Nat Greene Flyfishers    December 2006

It was a beautiful day last week, following a series of the same. The morning air was crisp. No, it was down right bone chilling cold. My friend, Mitchell Barrett, was headed for Redding to fish the Lower Sac. He had wanted me to join him, enticing me with the reports of warm weather and great fishing. He had been down the week before and caught several Salmon and Trout from the bank and was looking to repeat. I just didn't feel like driving the two hours to and fro, so I passed and elected to try the Upper Sac at Cantara. It was so darned cold I started thinking maybe I had made the wrong decision.

I arrived at the Cantara parking area, a short distance from home, and got into my waders and winter fishing gear before starting to walk downstream.

Passing a meadow, I noticed a herd of rather small deer near the edge of a wooded area. There must have been 8 or 9 of them. When they saw me they headed for cover in an unusual hurry. I scouted the river looking for a likely place to try my luck. My clothes were heavily layered and I was quite comfortable. The thought of entering the cold water was more unnerving than the actuality. If you are dressed properly it isn't bad at all.

I pushed through a brushy area and peered through to the river. There, in a prime fishing spot, sitting on a rock near the water, was another fisherman. Since I had been the only car in the parking lot I was surprised to see him.
He was a heavyset guy and bearded, as am I. His whitish beard was a lot longer than mine and was a bit stained around the edge of his mouth. He appeared to be trying to tie on a fly and was having some difficulty seeing the eyelet. I knew what that felt like. He had the finest gear (For you fishers, Simms waders and boots, Winston rod, almost identical to my equipment).

I said, "Hi, ole man. How's it goin'?" His blue eyes flashed annoyance. "Old?" He said. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

I ignored the remark. "How's the fishin'?"

"Lousy" he said. "It's a darned shame. I decide to take a couple of days off, at the busiest time of the year for my company, to try this river in the new winter season, and I can't buy a fish!"

"Maybe I can help. I own the Dunsmuir Fly Fishing Shop

"I know who you are." He shot back, cutting me off.

"If you'll let me help you rig up, and put you in the right place, maybe we can turn your luck around."

"All right, have at it." He said, as he lit up his pipe.

"Where you from?" I said, as a tied on a large stimulator dry fly trailing a small nymph tied off of the hook, about 18 inches back.

"Up north of here." He said. "I shouldn't even be here, it's so busy right now. Seasonal business."

As he entered the river, in the spot that I pointed out, I said, "What does your company do?" "Umm, we expedite and ship internationally. I head the operation." With that, he expertly cast the flies, putting them in the exact spot that I had pointed out. He no more than drifted the fly about 3 feet when it disappeared and a beautiful 16-inch Sac Rainbow was on! He managed to land and release 2 more as I watched and cheered him on. Now, happy as a clam, and with an entirely different demeanor, he thanked me, said goodbye, and headed back upstream.

"Hey!" I yelled at him, as he was quickly disappearing, "What's your name?"

"Call me Kris!" He yelled back, "Thanks again! Have a happy holiday!"

Back at my car, I wondered, "How had the old guy gotten there?"

"Oh well." I thought. "Hmm! Call me Kris?"

I hope that you, dear reader, and yours, have a very special holiday season.

Enjoy your wilderness!

Bob Cratchit

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