Ventura Mountains still holding Trout in remote creeks.
Tucked deep within the rugged Ventura Mountains of Southern California lies a little-known creek that harbors a thriving population of rainbow trout. This hidden jewel is Reyes Creek, a serene and golden gem I stumbled upon while searching for rewarding fly fishing opportunities just a few hours away from the urban sprawl and relentless pace of SoCal’s concrete jungle. My account here captures the quiet beauty and untamed spirit of this special place, perfect for those seeking a peaceful escape into nature’s embrace.
Please fish Reyes Creek’s wild rainbow trout ethically: use single barbless hooks and practice catch and release. Thank you!
It was early january and I had just renewed my fishing license. I was iving in the high desert and itching to get my wading boots wet and explore
Arriving just as the US Forest Service office opened to purchase an Adventure Pass, I took the opportunity to ask about any creeks that might still hold fish in the area. The ranger explained that “there aren’t many people trying to fish this area nowadays,” mostly because most of the creeks haven’t been stocked in decades. However, she mentioned there is a nearby campground where some fish might still be found. She also gave a helpful warning that the road leading there could be challenging, with snow patches and sections possibly washed out from recent weather. Since the Forest Service won’t be regularly patrolling the area, she advised me to be very cautious and prepared for any surprises. Grateful for the valuable tip, I thanked her and eagerly headed down the road, ready for whatever the wilderness had in store.
The road began winding its way through sprawling farmlands and vast cattle ranches, areas that many folks often don’t realize exist tucked away in rural California. After crossing a few dry washes, the pavement gave way to a dusty dirt track, pocked with deep ruts demanding careful maneuvering. Though I never had to engage 4WD, I was certainly grateful to have it at the ready. About halfway along, the road clung closely to towering sandstone cliffs, tracing invisible fault lines beneath our wheels. According to a Forest Service ranger I met, California Condors are occasionally sighted soaring above these rugged canyons, a rare and awe-inspiring spectacle. I pulled over to take in the majestic scenery—an expanse most will never have the chance to witness firsthand. To the east, snowy peaks pierced the sky, while farmland stretched unbroken for miles around me; off to the west, the distant Pacific Ocean glittered on the horizon. I could just make out the winding watershed below, the very place I hoped to find Rainbow Trout darting in crystal-clear streams.
When I turned off onto the road leading to Reyes Creek Campground, I was pleasantly surprised to discover a small, quaint settlement nestled right along the creek’s edge. I continued on to the campground itself, eventually parking my rig in the quiet day use area. As is almost always the case, I soon encountered a small group of hikers who immediately noticed me rigging up my trusty fly rod. Curiosity piqued, they couldn’t help but ask what I was up to. After a brief, friendly conversation and a doubtful chuckle, they wished me good luck on my fishing adventure. Feeling encouraged, I made my way down to the creek. To my surprise, there was a healthy flow of water, complemented by an abundance of small pools and hidden pocket waters perfect for trout. I approached the water carefully, crouching low and moving as quietly as possible, scanning for any signs of fish. Then, just out of the corner of my eye, I spotted it—a trout actively feeding right on the surface! I had to quickly assess my positioning, mindful of the overhanging oak branches that threatened to ruin any poorly placed cast. Knowing I only had one shot at this beautiful rainbow trout, I took a deep breath, preparing to make that cast absolutely perfect.
The cast was absolutely horrible, with the fly landing nearly two feet away from my intended mark. However, as I silently muttered a few foul words under my breath, I was just about to pull the fly out of the water when another trout lightly sipped at the Caddis. Startled, I missed the hookset completely. Despite the missed opportunity, I now felt confident there were fish present in Reyes Creek. I decided to move further up the creek, above Reyes Creek campground, giving the fish I had just located some time to reacclimate and settle down before I tried again.
There is a hiking trail that runs along the upper stretches of Reyes Creek, offering a mix of serene pools and short, bubbling runs that invite exploration. I spotted plenty of fish darting beneath the surface, but unfortunately spooked them each time before I could get a good cast off. As I continued further upstream, the trail became more challenging and grew overgrown in several spots, slowing my progress. After hiking about three-quarters of a mile, I decided it was best to turn around and focus on fishing the holes where I had seen fish earlier. These wild Rainbows are incredibly sensitive to movement and any shadows that fall across the water, making stealth essential. The thick canopy of trees and dense chaparral lining the creek create tough conditions for fly fishing. I’m pretty sure bait fishermen or those casting small spinners might have better luck maneuvering their lures through these tight spaces.
There were plenty of “long Distance Releases,” with the trout eagerly spitting out the size 14 caddis flies. It was clear that it was time to downsize my approach, switching to a more delicate size 18 pattern. That subtle change was the trick that unlocked the day’s success! I ended up landing 8 vibrant rainbow trout, ranging in size from 6 to 14 inches, each one putting up a spirited fight that made the effort all the more rewarding.
After thoroughly exploring and exhausting every corner of the campground section of Reyes Creek, I decided to make my way toward the area where the small, quiet settlement was located. Seeing a clear "no trespassing" sign posted, I respectfully chose to turn around without hesitation and quickly jumped back into my trusty Xterra. As I re-entered the main forest service road, my eyes caught sight of a wide stretch of open, sunlit grasslands that seemed to beckon for further exploration.
This section of Reyes Creek is beautifully lined with dense, vibrant tules and slender, delicate willows that sway gently with each passing breeze, creating a peaceful and natural canopy along the water’s edge. The pools here run longer and deeper than many others upstream, offering plenty of inviting undercuts and shaded retreats where fish can find shelter and rest from the sun. I could clearly see fish darting back and forth in the shadowy depths of these deeper holes, their quick, flickering movements adding a subtle, lively pulse to the otherwise tranquil and serene flow of the water. As I stood there, taking in the scene, I noticed the weather beginning to shift rather quickly. Dark, heavy clouds started to accumulate on the distant horizon, and increasing gusts of wind stirred the water’s surface and rustled the foliage around me. Despite this impending change, I still decided to give it a go. Tying on a well-crafted Pheasant Tail Nymph with practiced hands, I cast my line out with quiet hope, watching intently as fish cautiously approached the fly—only to spook and dart away at the last moment. I worked that section of creek for a solid twenty minutes, trying different angles and casts, until the winds became too strong and unpredictable to continue casting effectively. Then, just as I was about to call it a day, a sharp crack of lightning struck a peak off towards the east—the direction I needed to drive to get back home—and that was my unmistakable cue to pack up and head out.
Upon driving back the long, winding 25-plus miles of rough, dusty dirt road, I finally arrived once again within reliable cellular range. Feeling a deep sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, I quickly posted photos of my catch to my Instagram and Facebook pages. Within just 10 minutes, my phone buzzed nonstop with eager messages from fellow anglers, who were just as excited, sharing their own thrilling stories and experiences from their adventures at Reyes Creek.
