Excellent Year-Round Trout Fishing on the Mighty McCloud

The streamside trail was obliterated by a thicket of white fir and vine maple, a vegetative wall between me and fly-fishing glory … or so I thought. There was no choice but to belly-crawl toward the sunlit opening a dozen yards ahead. A few yards in, I was met by a coiled rattlesnake, its malevolent eyes cast my way. I froze. He licked the air, uncoiled and slithered downhill toward the river. I scrambled, cautiously, until I could stand again and get my carotid artery out of harm’s way.

As I learned on that first of many trips to California’s mighty McCloud River, the reward is worth the risk. This muscular stream harbors chunky, feisty rainbow trout pursued by titans of industry in the past and schlubs like you and me today. Some ’bows approach four pounds, and if that doesn’t trip your trigger, factor in the big brown trout that migrate upstream from Shasta Reservoir. This river is well worth a face-off with a venomous reptile.

A Worthwhile Journey

Tucked deep in California’s desolate northeast corner, the McCloud is a can’t-get-there-from-here kind of place worth the risk of flat tires and broken axles. Besides the chance to fish where millionaires once cast, you’ll be questing after the trout world’s master race. McCloud rainbows have colonized rivers from South America to Africa, and most in the Eastern and Midwestern U.S. claim lineage from this trout mother ship.

The river rises in the Cascade Mountains of far northern California, dominated by the regal presence of 14,179-foot Mt. Shasta. The vast aquifer adjacent to the mountain provides spring flows for this breathtakingly beautiful river, a glistening ribbon of long pools and frothing pocket water coursing a wild, torrent-carved canyon.

Easily accessible portions of the McCloud are near the town of the same name. Two sections of the upper river are reached via U.S. Forest Service roads south of Highway 89 about seven miles east of McCloud. The area provides many miles of small freestone stream fishing with both wild and stocked trout.

The magic begins when you descend into the deep canyon downstream of McCloud dam, reached via Squaw Valley Road south of town. It’s the start of a wild-trout, public-access portion of the river (much of the McCloud is still under private ownership). A short reach just below the dam at Ash Camp is worth a few casts and a glimpse at band-tailed pigeons that dart and swoop among the trees, but the real fun starts with a hair-raising drive on a forest road that’s equal parts boulder, rut and scattered car parts that ends at Ah-Di-Nah campground. You’ll be following in the footsteps of newspaper mogul William Randolph Hearst and his cronies, who maintained a “resort” where the campground now resides. Old foundations and an ancient orchard harbor ghosts of a storied past of cigars, diamond pinkie rings and bespoke cane rods. Upstream of the campground are four miles of red-ribbon water; two more miles can be explored downstream.

Make a short drive downstream to the road’s terminus and start your hike to the river’s most productive and popular reach. Plan ahead and make an online reservation, or do like me and show up for one of the five slots held daily for walk-in anglers (I’ve never been turned away). These three miles of river, now called the Kerry Landreth Preserve, are managed by the Nature Conservancy (if you want to make a reservation, do so at nature.org), where 10 anglers are allowed each day to clamber over boulders, skin knees, scrape shins, wade riffles and probe dark pools where the biggest trout dwell.

As much rock as river, it’s a boisterous mix of falls and runs, drops and rills between islets and brush crowding the banks to capture errant casts. Part of the joy of the McCloud is the way it challenges your technique and strategy, so bring your “A” game and a wading staff. The stream bottom is mainly ankle-turning rocks ready to send you on a refreshing swim should you stop paying attention.

When to Go

So how do you get a photo opp with a glistening, writhing rainbow in an Eden-like setting of lush forest and sparkling water?

May and June see the most prolific insect hatches, and stoneflies are the glamor bug. Salmonflies, golden stones and little yellow stones will rise, tempting rainbows and browns. A few caddis and mayfly species round out the menu.

July and August are torrid, discouraging many anglers, especially those familiar with the uphill walk that concludes a trip to the Conservancy water. The upper sections see sunbathers, swimmers and picnickers, but below the dam only dedicated anglers potter about. The water remains cool and shaded much of the time, so pack a varied selection of topwater and subsurface flies and explore. Golden stone and caddis nymphs are a start, with adult versions hatching at dusk. Until the rises start, drift your nymph around pockets and behind boulders.

Fall can be epic for its dry fly action, with blue-winged olives and October Caddis emerging. Until you see risers, turn over a few rocks and tie on something imitating the caddis nymph you’ll find in profusion. Bring a few streamers and lob them into the deep pools for a chance at the migrating browns from Shasta Lake.

Technical Fishing

This is not A River Runs Through It fishing. Seldom will you make a backcast due to the streamside dogwood and yew trees hungry for fresh flies. There is one advantage to the flora: the umbrella plant’s gigantic leaves create bankside shade on bright days, and trout will skulk there as most anglers are oblivious to the opportunity.

Nymph with a short line and high stick, using an indicator and weight on your leader. Pockets are small, requiring precise deliveries and careful management of your drift. If you’re skillful, hold your mouth just right and have performed a good deed that day, you may be rewarded with a take. Bring a net and land fish quickly or risk breaking them off on the boulder piles and snags that multiply once you’ve hooked a trout. (If you find an extra net languishing on a mid-stream boulder, please send it back to me.)

Four-weight rods are plenty for a stream that’s seldom more than 30 feet across, but use a 9-footer to help manage drag-free drifts, and spool up a weight-forward line to handle big nymphs. Take your time wading into position for the best drift and watch out for otters and ruffed grouse. The former will spoil your drift, while the latter will scare the bejesus out of you on your hike out. Oh, and watch for rattlers, too.

KNOW BEFORE YOU GO

• Things to consider before a trip to the McCloud River.

To get to Ah-Di-Nah campground, drive south from McCloud Ranger Station on Squaw Valley Road to McCloud Reservoir. Turn right on Forest Road 38N53 and follow signs to Ah-Di-Na. It’s only 18 miles but will take at least an hour if you value your tires, undercarriage and drive shaft.

In addition to Ah-Di-Nah, there are plenty of other Forest Service campgrounds in the area, as well as a few RV parks and motels and dining in McCloud, Burney and the surrounding area. Friday’s RV resort is the closest to the Conservancy water. The majestic and charming McCloud Hotel offers a peek at the town’s glory days. Toast the big one that got away at Siskiyou Brew Works in McCloud, and definitely order a pizza. Old town McCloud is worth a quick recon, with logging and railroad history on display.

You’ll be just a short drive from both Hat Creek and Fall River if your bucket list includes the fly angler’s NorCal trifecta. There’s more fishing just north in the Dunsmuir-Mt. Shasta City region as well, including the Upper Sacramento River and its tributaries.

If you’d like to hire a guide, I recommend The Fly Shop in Redding (theflyshop.com) and Jack Trout (jacktrout.com) in Mount Shasta.

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• This article was featured in the October issue of Game & Fish magazine. Click to subscribe.

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