I feel very fortunate to guide the lower Sacramento River and often marvel at the size of the native, wild, rainbows that thrive in it’s cold currents winding through a city of 90,000 people. Matt, Dan and I all hoped to find rainbows concentrated behind spawning late-fall Chinook and welcomed the heavy overcast skies as dawn broke over the horizon. The morning light revealed a touch of color in the water that only heightened our anticipation as the hum of the jet fell quiet and lines were cast. A couple of drifts into the morning and both rods bent simultaneously under the strain of redsides; a symbol of what would continue throughout the day. Mid-day rains triggered a baetis hatch so intense, we paused to witness it unfold, reveled in virtual solitude under the watchful eyes of bald eagles and pinched ourselves. What a river!
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