I love this time of year, the mist moving through the trees
overhead, the fog coming off the river. The rivers swell then drop only
to repeat over and over for the next six months. Days on end constantly
monitoring the river levels looking for peak days and opportunities elsewhere.
All I want to do is catch a steelhead...one a day is enough. Better
put, there is a reasonable chance to catch one a day. The reality of winter
steelheading is just that, "a reasonable opportunity to catch one," it's what keeps us looking for the "one."
I took an exploratory trip a couple weeks
ago. My buddy Jamey and my new puppy Boone went to check out the
river. No luck that day but we didn't work too hard at it. It felt
good to be out. As Christmas approached the storms started building and I
wondered if I should drag my boat to the coast for the holiday. I decided
not to. We made it home the day after Christmas and I fished the
following day.
We found a swollen river in the dark. One
boat was already down and another was waiting for better visibility. We
rolled down into the first rapid and it was big, as expected at this level.
Slid into a nice little run knowing it would fish at this higher level. No fish for us here. We float down to another spot only to find
someone else just finishing up. Around the corner we find walk ins on
both sides. After a nice little float we finally find some open water but pass on it guessing it had just been fished, besides, I like the next run
better. Mistake, we find the first boat down. We're out in front so
we pass another run and go for the one I've done the best in at this level.
Open water, the river is up, we should find fish here. We don't.
On we go around the corner, open.
I have fished this run a hundred times,
it's textbook. There's a top and a bottom and I've never scored in either
but my partner in crime, Jamey, has. The top run has given up several fish
for Jamey over the years. As usual I step into the lower end ready to
take my beatdown. Every time I look down this run I wonder why it doesn't
give it up. It's perfect minus the lack of structure. The river has
the same pace all the way across with a bar about one third of the way
across and then a deep section which is out of my reach. This is a tight
to the bank kind of place, real tight and navel deep. You can't make it
all the way down to what looks to be the bucket...too bad. At the bottom
the river moves left then turns right.
Half way down I start wondering if the
fish even come up this side of the river. We've caught them on the other
side several times but never here, makes you wonder. As I get to the
bottom my casting starts to get worse, the willows are to close and too many
and the wind is now blowing down river. Something about fishing with a
hood on always makes me cast sloppy, maybe it’s the lack of peripheral vision
but its pouring cats and dogs. So I have to decide if I'm going to cast
and step or move below the outreaching branch and take my chances. I take my
chances and move down only to bail out half way through my cast and take a
couple more steps. Did I step past one? Hope not. Next cast,
eleven sloppy strips and a decent cast my line pulls tight. You ever get
that pull, you know the pull where the fish basically stops your fly and moves
with it never turning? I wait what seems like five seconds and gently
lift my rod and there he is. What do you know! I look up river and
give a call, "fish!" I know Jamey will bust down to lend a
hand; hopefully he brings the net. Nope, no net. We get the fish in and it's a decent little native. Just as I suspected, hooked in
the middle of his tongue, he never turned on it. We forgo the hero shot
and Jamey holds the fish while I snap a quick photo then the fish darts off.
We had a couple more chances but couldn't
get the fish to the reel, a good day for sure. Maybe tomorrow the river
will reward us again.
