The Upper Sacramento River in Northern California is traced by railroad tracks for almost 40 miles. There is a campground that offered access to the tracks and therefore more trout water than we could fish in a summer let alone a weekend.
The program worked something like this: alarm, water, coffee, oatmeal, bar, suit up, walk the tracks, drop down, fish. There were spots we knew and fished often which became a bit of a trap. We’d play the hits, catch some fish and go home. It was a four-hour drive, just far enough to be prohibitive as a weekly habit when you calculate time in the truck vs.
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