Father’s Day changes as you get older. Our kids now have kids of their own to celebrate with, and honestly, that’s exactly how it should be. Watching my son become such a terrific father is the best Father’s Day gift I could ask for. Seeing him build the same kind of family memories that Gina and I enjoyed over the years is pretty special.

Originally, Gina was supposed to spend a couple of weeks in Charleston helping Mia with River, but those babysitting duties got pushed forward until August. I originally was looking forward to a long, solo fly-fishing camping trip to Wilderness Unlimited’s Bidwell Ponds and Lake Margaret. I had visions of complete solitude, talking to nobody but trout. Then Gina announced she’d like to come camping too. Well…there went my peaceful conversations with fish. I changed the reservations, and suddenly my solo adventure became a camping trip for two.

The plan was to drive up Friday, visit Wayne in Orland, pick up ribs and tri-tip from Andy’s Meats, and head to Bidwell Pond #2. Gina, however, has priorities of her own. Mine involve trout. Hers involve brunch at the Brown Bear Diner near Redding. Since I’ve learned over the years that a well-fed wife dramatically improves my fishing experience, we stopped for a great meal before continuing on.  There is nothing I enjoy more than outdoor gourmet cooking for Gina.  Im getting my outdoor cooking mojo on.

Because Bidwell is catch-and-release and Gina had already informed me that she expected fresh trout for breakfast, I made a quick stop at the Cassel Pond to gather tomorrow’s groceries. The trout were happily eating Callibaetis mayflies. Naturally, I ignored all of that and threw PowerBait instead. Four trout in about ten minutes. Sometimes sophistication is overrated when time and food are of the essence.

We also stopped to buy firewood from the camp host at Cassel. We had met him last year, and given the opportunity to help out an old campground host while buying something we actually needed, we were happy to throw him a little business.

When we arrived at Bidwell, Cory, the groundskeeper, greeted us with a smile. He couldn’t have been friendlier and let us know he sold firewood, filled fresh water tanks for RVs, and even refilled those little one-pound propane bottles. That’s the kind of information you never know you need until you really need it.

The biggest surprise was discovering that there was exactly one other camper there for Father’s Day weekend. Apparently everyone else was off celebrating Dad somewhere else. Or maybe they heard I was coming and wanted the trout to have a fighting chance. Cory told us holidays usually aren’t very busy there, which was the complete opposite of what I expected.

Even more surprising was seeing Benson fishing Pond #2 with his friend Stu, who gets around with a walker but still climbs into a float tube. That’s dedication. We set up camp around four o’clock and watched the two of them on the far side of the pond catching fish after fish while I conducted some very careful scientific research on exactly why they were catching everything and I wasn’t. The thick Callibaetis hatch from a month earlier had pretty much ended. Very few fish were rising, and the trout had switched almost entirely to feeding on midges.

When Benson came in before dark, we helped him get Stu safely out of his float tube and back onto his walker. Watching Benson take care of Stu was honestly the highlight of the evening. Helping an older fly fisherman continue doing what he loves is what this sport is really about. Thankfully, Benson had also done all the homework for me. The trout wanted tiny dry midges, size 16 peacock-herl midges with a little Crystal Flash, suspended under a stealthy Australian wool indicator. Stripping a size 16 Prince Nymph also worked well. Typical Bidwell trout…picky enough to make you question every fly in your box.

The evening dry-fly fishing, however, was outstanding. Once the light got low, a size 16 Missing Link tied to 5X tippet became almost automatic as the fish finally started looking up. I ended up with six fish the first evening, around two dozen the next full day, and three more the morning we left for Lake Margaret. For Bidwell, that’s excellent fishing.

Gina absolutely loves Lake Margaret. The campsites are private, the scenery is beautiful, the internet and 5G somehow work great even out on the lake, and she enjoys being chauffeured around while I row the rental boat. I brought along a trolling motor this trip, and although it worked well, I think another anchor line would help keep the boat from swinging around whenever the afternoon wind picked up.

Gina loves a campfire but Lake Margaret has a ban on open wood fires.  Nate gave us  permission to use our Howler R1 propane fire pit if we cleared all the pine needles away from the fire pit .  The evenings were fun as we watched our favorite TV shows by firelight and ate frozen deserts looking at bright stars and counting Starink Satelites.

Our Memorial Day trip to Lake Margaret had produced incredible fishing with lots of healthy rainbows between 18 and 24 inches, so I was anxious to see if that had simply been a magical weekend. It wasn’t. Even though the lake had dropped nearly ten feet, the first evening from four until dark produced nonstop action. I actually started fishing junk flies under an indicator, but it almost became too easy. The fish were grabbing the indicator before they even noticed the fly. After a while I started changing patterns simply because I wanted to see what wouldn’t work.

Lake Margaret continues to fascinate me. Water temperatures range from around 55 degrees where cold springs and streams enter the lake to nearly 75 degrees in the shallow bays. Some weed beds stay bright green while others have already turned brown depending on the water temperature. The trout simply line up wherever the colder water enters the lake. Unlike many stillwaters, there isn’t much Callibaetis or chironomid activity. The primary food source appears to be damsel flies and Tui chubs.

I’ve been told the lake holds a remarkable population of trophy brook trout and brown trout that spend much of their time chasing chubs instead of insects. Several people recommended streamers for those fish, but honestly, I was far too busy entertaining the planted rainbows. One surprise was catching a tiny four-inch rainbow, which suggests at least some natural spawning is taking place. I also noticed what appeared to be at least three different strains of stocked rainbows swimming around the lake.

The quality of the fish continues to amaze me. They reminded me of Wildhorse Reservoir—fat, healthy trout that pull much harder than stocked fish have any right to. Stripping blobs was almost automatic, and I even landed two doubles. Junk flies consistently outfished damsel nymphs and adult damsels, much to my surprise. Most of my dry-fly fish came on size 16 Missing Links and Callibaetis cripples, even though I never really figured out exactly what the trout were eating. Stomach pumps and autopsies didn’t reveal much. Apparently the trout decided to keep that little secret to themselves.  Flies hat worked – Squirmy Wormies, Copper Johns,  Black AP’s, flow bugs, big midges, blobs,  San Juan Worms,

We enjoyed fresh trout every day. Some fillets were bright pink while others were much lighter in color. My guess is the holdover fish are feeding on something completely different than the freshly stocked trout, but I’m still not sure exactly what gives some of them that deep salmon-colored flesh.

The fishing numbers were the best I’ve ever experienced at Lake Margaret: twenty fish the first evening, sixty fish the next full day, and seven more before we headed home. We vacuum-packed a few trout for the freezer. The limit is five fish per person per day with ten in possession, so we had plenty for several future breakfasts.

Every trip in the Synabeggo gets a little more refined. This trip’s big improvement was adding a portable shower. A bucket of heated water, a simple shower pump, and pre-soaped washcloths gave us the luxury of taking showers whenever we wanted. Who knew something so simple could feel so civilized? Bidwell also deserves credit for the excellent solar-powered showers at Pond #2. After a long day of fishing, having the option of a hot shower or a cold rinse is one of those little luxuries that makes camping feel a whole lot less like camping. I’m beginning to realize that I’m becoming surprisingly comfortable with the idea of glamping…as long as there are trout involved.

In another first, Gina booked an online continuing education class for the five-hour drive home. Thanks to Starlink, we were able to attend the entire course while rolling down the highway. Gina sat in the back at the desk, watching the presentation and handling the interaction for both of us while I listened from the driver’s seat. It made the long drive fly by, and by the time we pulled into the driveway, we had both earned our CE credits. I have a feeling this may become our new favorite way to knock out continuing education. Now that’s what I call multitasking.