A Holiday to Remember
by Joe Bigas
In 1991 I fell in love with the Shasta-Trinity wilderness. A friend, raised in Dunsmuir, had been trying to get me into those woods for 25 years. We camped at a little lake at 7,000 feet. It was about an acre, with a view of Mt Shasta to the East, the Trinity Alps to the West, and if you climbed the peak behind the lake, you could see all the way to Lake Trinity (Clair Engle) to the South. The lake had fish in it, but I'll be darned if we could catch any with our power bait.
A few years later, as a novice fly fisherman, I found myself on the 4th of July in the sleepy little town of Mt. Shasta. That day, however, it wasn't so sleepy. They had an all-day street fair and afternoon parade. I fled to the woods for a few hours of peace and quiet. Returning to the lake where I had camped a few years ago, I couldn't believe my luck to find it deserted. I quickly launched my float tube. My equipment was new and I was eager to use it. I kicked out to the middle of the lake. The air temperature was 74 degrees and there was a gentle breeze putting a slight ripple on the water, but no fish were rising. Somehow I only had my dry flies with me. Oh well. I cast several times to nothing in particular and BOOM! Fish on. The wind gently blew me in a different direction. I cast again and BOOM! Fish on. Time and time again I cast where the wind blew me, never seeing the fish until they hit. About 2 hours and 24 fish later I packed up the truck and headed back to town.
That was a 4th of July I'll never forget. I wish you the best of luck this 4th and all summer long. - Tight lines, Joe