Peninsula Fly Fishers

As Long as We're in Chico

It was shortly before one thirty in the afternoon, the sun hung warm in the sky and the call of geese on the water could be heard echoing along the high cliffs of the Sacramento River in the town of Redding. Hustle and bustle was all around us and yet Dave Black and I heard none of it for we were intently concentrating on little flourescent green indicators floating lazily down the edge of current. I had a delivery to make to friends in Chico and had asked Dave to go along. After talking to him, it occurred to me that Chico was not far from Redding and the lower Sac. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to do some you know what.

I called The Fly Shop and talked to Duane. Sure, they did half-day trips on the river. When did I want to go? Tomorrow. Sure. Ross was available. I booked it

We drifted the water from the convention center down past the third bridge, using Prince nymphs #14, PMD's #16, and pheasant tail nymphs#16. We were on the water only five hours, but what a five hours it was.I had Dave saying over and over, "When you've got fishing like this, why go to Alaska?" Dave caught the most fish, but what the heck, the weather was perfect-o-mundo--in the middle 70's, the first week in March, no rain. What more could a guy want or need? Certainly the cry for FISH ON rang out a lot and best of all, we often said it almost together from opposite ends of the boat.

J.C. Poulton

Peninsula Fly Fishers 1976-2021
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