An overhanging Douglas Fir stands guard at the primitive boat launch, it displays an old sign that tells it all "Cady Fly Only". Let it be known to all novices of the art and skill of fly fishing, only brave and tested warriors paddle these waters. The eight species of trout having seen every conceivable combination of feather, yarn, hair, tensile and thread lashed to a hook. Floating line, sinking line, monofiliment, flourocarbon and the finest Chinese silk thread, they can see it a mile away.
If you do happen to fool them you will be handsomely rewarded, the little ones are 3 pounds and the grand daddies are up to 15 pounds, yes that's right. Now you get it. The pristine forest of pines, fir and hemlock provide a back drop to the proving grounds by which "fling'rs of the fly" will gauge their prowess.
I've been blessed by the good Lord to have fished Cady for 20 years now and I'm humbled often by fish with a brain the size of a pea. These storied waters will honor you one day and shame you the next. Some how I still get the same rush of anticipation as I travel the tree lined dirt road which leads to the waters edge. My hands quiver at the site of a five pounder skimming the surface for emergers. The visions of a size 22 Olive Dun disappearing into a swirling vortex generated by a rainbow sided submarine. The moments of silence broken by sounds of trout splashing just out of casting range.
Once I mentioned these words to my old fishing partner Paul, "if one could choose the last waters that they would ever fish, indeed mine would be Cady Lake my friend".
This little guy was only 23" at six pounds.
Cady is a private lake with public access. If you venture to Cady leave a donation in the old lock box and say thank you to Larry the owner, a grand gentleman.