best day steelheading...?

[Will Atlas]

ok, with this flood I'm getting itchy! I need to fish for some steelhead, and its looking slim to none on this weekend. I'll keep my fingers crossed, but until then gather round the fire children!!! I want detailed poetic descriptions of your BEST day steelheading. No need to say the name of the river if you feel so inclined (I know alot of people read this board). Maybe just the bioregion or something. So lets here it boys...here's mine.

It was midseptember and the nights were starting to get cooler. It was a saturday, so while the rest of the sane world snoozed away, we rolled out of our sleeping bags at 4:00 am. I felt like I hadnt ever gone to sleep as I rubbed my eyes and unzipped the tent flap. My mouth still tasted like hotdog and cheap beer from the previous nights exploits. It was going on 6 days straight steelheading and I was beginning to feel a little like a mountainman.

Excitement filled the air as we rigged out rods and pushed our boats out from the launch, in late summer there is no better time to catch a steelhead than dawn. Today however forcasters were calling for overcast skies, a steelheaders dream, and the day promised ot be special.

We reached the first run, one of our favorites and piled out. The run itself was probably about 85 yards long, with a soft riffle head, a slow deep tailout, and boulders roughly the size of a jagged basketball...perfect steelhead water. I fished through last, so I took my time working the riffle, slowly swinging my fly across the flow as I let my partners put some space between us. About 10 minutes into fishing, I heard a cuss from downstream. My friend had lost one at the bank. Five or ten casts later I watched my line swing lazily....still nothing, all of a sudden an excited yell came from my nearest fishing partner, his fish rolled, creating the swirl that only a truly substantial summerrun can. Line wizzed off his reel, joining the songbirds and the gurgling riffle as though it was a natural member of the early morning orchestra. about 30 yards into the backing the fish slowed. By this time I had reeled in camera in hand, knowing I was witnessing a special moment. His eight weight spey rod bent deeply as he worked the energetic fish, but gradually it became clear the fight would end with a fish on the bank. We landed it, a 31" inch hen, especially large for the river we were fishing. As it was of hatchery dissent a swift pop on the skull and we cut the gills. My other friend resumed fishing and quickly landed another smaller fish. As we pushed off from our run I felt excited, and rushed to reach the next run before another boat came down behind up, or worse the sun hit the water.

The late morning produced nothing, and we settled in to the slower part of the day, resigning ourselves to a pleasant float a few cold beers and some sandwiches rather than fish. Around 1 o'clock we pulled up to a grassy spot on the bank and my friend hopped out to do some fishing. While he worked his run, my other friend and I caught cat naps in the grass, sleeping off the beer from the night before and feeling our 6 days of 4 am wake up time. I woke an hour later with a raindrop hitting my face...our clouds had rolled in.

While we slept David has hooked 3 fish, landing one, and was eager to continue our float. Feeling groggy and slightly dissappointed to have gotten skunked on our last full day I rowed down stream and anchored at the last good run. I tied on a small buggy looking skater as the clouds moved over head and began fishing a long deep boulder filled run.

Fishing river right I threw double speys, mending and letting my fly wake across the fishy part of the run. I was beginning to wake up and the clouds were giving me confidence that my fly would soon find the willing maw of a summer steelhead. About 50 yards through the run, I reached the gut of the holding water. "alright", I figured,"If ever there was a time for a fish to strike this is it". I threw my double spey feeling the road load and the line slither out between my guides. I threw a mend and the fly began to swing.

about half way through the swing a deep swirl sucked the fly down and as the fish turned I could feel its weight. As calmly as possible I raised the rod tip and felt the weight of the throbbing fish. It stopped momentarily as if considering its options and then started swimming towards me slowly. "no way, this is too easy," I thought to myself. about 15 yards from the bank the fish thought better of it, and took off screaming downstream, adding two acrobatic leaps for good measure. It reached my backing as it entered the main body of the flow, using the current to its advantage. My old 13' spey rod flexed deeply as the fish exerted its will on me. Slowly however the fish began to tire and within about 5 minutes I had her on the bank, a 24" inch hatchery hen, a swift bonk, a knife through the gills and off I went, after all there were still clouds over head and there was 100 more meters of run to fish.

Literally the next cast a fish hit the fly as violently as I have yet to experience. It hit so hard it almost immediately set the hook on it self and rocketed out of the water. Two leaps later, it was gone, m heart pounding from the burst of action in an otherwise slow day. I gathered myself and cast again. I was feeling it now, every cast it seemed I KNEW a fish would answer and 4 casts later a fish did. It was a soft subtly take, sucking the skater down, and in my eagerness I pulled the hook from its jaw. I cast again and the fish struck again, this time missing the fly altogether. My heart was beating a million miles a minute, "would a fish possibly strike three times in a row". I threw my last cast, and as the fly swung past its lie it exploded on it, determined to finish the job, I set up and alas the fish cartwheeled and spit my size 6 hook. "My god" I wondered how many more fish could possibly be lying in the run.

I stepped down and continued fishing, moving two or three steps per cast, and feeling the rhythm of the d-Loop and the forward stroke. 5 minutes later my fly landed mid current and I put a tight mend in the line keeping contact with the fly. It began swinging and before I could blink a fish had sucked it down into its watery grave. I raised the rod tip enough to know my steel had penetrated the bony jaw of the fish and positioned myself for the battle. Screaming run after screaming run into the backing. I must have gotten the fish within 20 yards of myself 5 times before he finally tired and came to the bank. Again a hatchery fish so I tore his ticket to the after life for him, deposited him in the bushed and fished on.

Now I know what you're thinking, had I been fishing in Washington my day would have been over. A two fish limit means stop fishing...but I wasnt, and 10 casts later as I swung through the tailout of the run the fifth and final fish rose to my fly. I set up and again felt the weight of the animal. it ran up river and across, by now a group of three sports had gathered on the far bank to watch the action as their guide had been less successful at getting them tangled with fish. The fish reversed its course and dove deeply. I felt the knicking of rocks on my leader and just like that...gone. I reeled up and took a seat on the bank, needing to collect myself. My hands were shaking, and I took a moment to wonder does it really get any better than this. I was snapped from my nirvana by one of the sports across the river, "hey man...what fly, I mean, what are you gettin' em on?".

"Oh, who me?" I said snapped from my thoughtful state and tring to hide a humongous grin..."Oh, maybe try a greased liner or something". I turned and walked back up the bank, smelling the light rain in the warm summer air and as I turned to admire the run one more time I heard the sport say to his guide, "do you think, I mean do you have any 'greased liners?'"

Ok that turned out longer than I'd hoped. but it was the most awesome hour of my young steelhead life.

Thank god for clouds, and more importantly, steelhead.

[Panhandle]

No poetry here.... 6 fish on the swing- in Oregon, in December, not a coastal stream- bodda boom-bodda bing!.... however, I've had much better days where I didn't catch a thing.

[Zen Piscator]

I hooked up 34 one day last fall and got a little under 2 dozen to the bank. Caught my biggest nate (35in) that day and fish on both the swing and nymph. It stayed hot till late november.

[KerryS]

Not sure what year it was but sometime in the late '90s and it was right before the middle river closed so I would say mid March. Usually I wouldn't fish Lyman at this time of year because it gets pretty crowded but on this day I had been upriver fishing and decided to stop and fish the bar on my way home. The time would have been around 3 in the afternoon. When I arrived at the bar to my surprise no one was fishing it except two old guys at the plunker's shack. I strung up and headed to the bar.

Mid way through I get a nice tug. A few minutes later I unhook a bright 12 lb. hen. Nice. Glad I stopped. Back into the run and a few casts later another tug. Cool, this has never happened to me before, 2 fish on within a few casts of each other. This time a 5 lb. hatchery hen. What is she doing here? Bonked it to give to the old guys plunking. Again I start fishing the run and within 10 more casts another fish on. This is unbelievable.

Something was different this time. The fish doesn't make any great runs or anything but I can't move it. This is a very strong fish. After 10 minutes or so I get the fish up to shallow water for the first time. When I see the big buck my jaw drops. I have never had on or maybe never seen a steelhead this big before. I literally start shaking. Every time I got the large fish to the bank he would turn a swim back to the middle of the river. He was so strong there was no way I could stop him. This happened 2 or 3 times until finally he rolled over on his side at my feet as to say you win.

He was a big beautiful buck with all his spawning colors. I marveled at his beauty and his size. I measured the large fish with my rod. His tail at the butt of the rod his head was past the stripping guide on my 8124. Wow! I set the rod down to remove my fly and send him on his way. When I reached to remove the fly he decided he had enough of me and again took off towards the river. The huge steelhead was moving fast and I thought for sure he was going to take my rod with him. Just as the line was starting to come tight I managed to grab my rod. Plink, my leader breaks as the line came tight and the fish swam away with my GP still in the corner of his mouth. I stood there for a few minutes just shaking and wondering if this fish was really as big as I thought he was.

I grabbed the small hatchery hen I had bonked and headed back up to the parking lot. I gave the hen to the 2 plunkers at the shack and they asked me about the long fight I had with the big steelhead. I told them about it and showed on my rod where I had measured the fish. I don't think they believed me but didn’t say anything probably because of the fish I had given them.

When I got to my truck I broke down my rod and removed my waders and the rest of my gear then looked around for a tape measure but did not have one in the truck. During the 20 minutes drive home I was still shaking thinking about that fish. When I got home I found my tape measure and measured the rod where I had measured the length of the buck, 44 inches.

To this day he was the largest steelhead I have caught or seen.

[Zen Piscator]

44 inches, holy shit that is amazing!

[Will Atlas]

dear god, thats massive

[John Hicks]

Very nice guys, makes me jealous. My best day steelheading was this past February on the Queets with Steve Buckner and James Mello. Sitting on the flood plane eating smoked sockey that Steve brought back from A.K. I never did get a hook-up that day but I got the opportunity to see James bring to hand his first steelhead on the swing. Truly magical moment. Seeing James work the fish and Steve bark out directions on landing the Steel. I will remember that day forever.

[James Mello]

Very nice guys, makes me jealous. My best day steelheading was this past February on the Queets with Steve Buckner and James Mello. Sitting on the flood plane eating smoked sockey that Steve brought back from A.K. I never did get a hook-up that day but I got the opportunity to see James bring to hand his first steelhead on the swing. Truly magical moment. Seeing James work the fish and Steve bark out directions on landing the Steel. I will remember that day forever.

Makes me misty thinking of that day... Hey John, I need a beer.... get me one bitch! ;)

[John Hicks]

That's ok if it weren't for me you would still be drifting your sac under a bobber....Biatch!

[TallFlyGuy]

My best day was during the summer. It was hot, the sun was out, and I was a little early. As I am swinging my first run, some good-looking ladies just floated by me. I'm thinking, fish aren’t biting, but hey, you just can't beat the scenery.

Well after awhile, I finished the run and floated down to the next section. As I start swinging my fly, I notice the girls were on a sandy beach smoking something mighty peculiar. No big deal right. A couple steps, a couple more swings.......I can hear them giggling and doing the weird stuff ladies do. Can't describe it but, you know it when you see/hear it. Again, I'm trying to concentrate on my line, but, I admit, I'm sneaking peaks every swing. Swimsuits, summer, girls, who wouldn't right?

Then all of a sudden, one of the young ladies yells,

"Boobs out!!" That's when I saw the Boobies a bouncing and the girls a waving. Woo Hoo!!

Oh yea, that was the best day of steelheading I've had!!


Tall

[Coach Duff]

The Tall Fly Guy sees his first "tandom rig" steelheading. Tall Fly Guy---WHO WAS BETTER THAN YOU THAT DAY? Good on ya baby! Coach

[James Mello]

My best day was during the summer. It was hot, the sun was out, and I was a little early. As I am swinging my first run, some good-looking ladies just floated by me. I'm thinking, fish aren’t biting, but hey, you just can't beat the scenery.

Well after awhile, I finished the run and floated down to the next section. As I start swinging my fly, I notice the girls were on a sandy beach smoking something mighty peculiar. No big deal right. A couple steps, a couple more swings.......I can hear them giggling and doing the weird stuff ladies do. Can't describe it but, you know it when you see/hear it. Again, I'm trying to concentrate on my line, but, I admit, I'm sneaking peaks every swing. Swimsuits, summer, girls, who wouldn't right?

Then all of a sudden, one of the young ladies yells,

"Boobs out!!" That's when I saw the Boobies a bouncing and the girls a waving. Woo Hoo!!

Oh yea, that was the best day of steelheading I've had!!


Tall

Bad part was, the young girl didn't do it, and you ended up with middle aged mom and grandma doing the boobs out thing... Must have been hard to see boobs that looked like an old signal light ;)

[James Mello]

That's ok if it weren't for me you would still be drifting your sac under a bobber....Biatch!

I keep telling you, it's a chronomid that's under that there bobber!

[Salmo_g]

There is no one best day of steelheading after chasing these fish for more than 30 years. Every day's a good day, but some are more memorable than others. I'm always a bit sad when a friend asks me about a steelhead that he remembers seeing me catch and I can't seem to recall the day at all. Thank God I've been able to fish some over the years.

1982 was the second year of the special catch and release season in March and April on the Skagit and Sauk Rivers. This idea was the brain child of WDG biologist Ted Mueller. The rivers were closed during these months for the conservation of wild steelhead. The Darrington Rod & Gun Club had been conducting a wild steelhead broodstock program under Ted's supervision since 1977, when the Sauk first entered this period of being closed at the end of February. The first returns were due back to the Sauk in 1981, but since the river was closed to fishing during the season when any of the special ventral fin-clipped fish might return, monitoring of the program was going to be impossible. Ergo - a catch and release steelhead season. Conservation would be realized, and anglers would hopefully note any ventral clipped steelhead they caught.

A couple friends were floating the lower Sauk with me one March day in 1981. Don Mackey and Bob Strobel fished the right bank at Tommy Dellinger's while I fished the left, at the car body hole. Don hooked a nice bright hen of about 11 pounds. Later when I floated across and we rejoined, he told me it had a missing ventral fin. Well, we knew at least one smolt from the broodstock program survived to return, but it was the only one any of us caught that season.

1982 was an even better season for me. I think it had something to do with getting more accustomed to fishing the late steelhead season. I'd moved to the Skagit Valley in 1977, when the river systems closed at the end of February on the Sauk and mid-March on the Skagit for steelhead conservation. With the newly expanded fishing opportunity in 1981, I took as much advantage as I could to fish the Skagit and Sauk in the often nicer weather that prevaled as the winter moved toward spring.

The last weekend of April was decidedly spring like. I stayed in Rockport with some friends the night of April 29th, intending to close the season out by fishing the last day the rivers were open. One of my friends and I decided to begin that day at Sauk Bar before daylight, only to see Bob York show up within a few minutes. The only real surprise in that was arriving before York, since he was notorious for arriving at his favored pool ahead of everyone else. We all fished the pool through for over an hour without moving a single fish. Dan and I had planned to float the lower Sauk to finish the season, but he was convinced that there were fish at Sauk Bar. Fishing the long bar once through had satisfied my curiousity, and I wanted to follow through with a float. Dan cooperated by spotting my truck at the old gov't wagen trail, and I launched my canoe below the gage hole near what has become known as the hippie hole. He intended to return to Sauk Bar to fish out the day. He was tenacious like that. We wished each other well, and I shoved off.

The Island Pool had treated me well often enough, but nothing happened there on this last chance of the season. Same song, second verse at the little slot downstream on the opposite bank. I couldn't buy a fish from the log jam I'd seen Mackey pull a bright hen from a few weeks prior. I was glad though, as I'd not even recognized the holding water potential of that spot. Before reaching the car body, the river dropped past the riprap that demarcated Dellinger's farm.

A beautiful riffle dropped into this pool in those days. Pointy-topped water that went nowhere. A soft current in the left corner, gradually becomming stronger as it moved toward the right bank. Fishing doesn't get any easier than this. My 8 1/2' fiberglass rod comfortably cast the 8 wt floating line that I'd removed the forward 15' from and replaced with an equal length of High Speed, Hi-D. Since I still thought fly fishing was all about tapered leaders, I hadn't evolved to my present laziness of using a level leader. I tapered my leader from 25 to 8# Maxima in about 5', but it was a tapered leader nonetheless. Fly selection was pretty simple too. My Wheatley carried only three patterns on size 2 and 4 hooks. A few purple and black maribous for change up, the orange maribou for off color water, and mostly my "red bait" that populated most of the clips in the box, and only in size 2. It's not like winter steelhead are selective.

This pool fished more easily than any that morning. I worked out a few more feet of line with each cast, and before I reached my usual working length of line, I got a good solid rap from a fish. I recall thinking, "well isn't it about time, this being the final day of the season and all." It didn't come back although I repeated the cast, and shortened my line and repeated the process of extending line and the length of the cast. I reached my working length and began two-stepping my way down the pool. I hadn't made but a few casts when I connected, more solidly this time. It was a good fish, a bright hen, and it played well, with several runs and jumps clear of the water. When I slid it into the shallow water, I was even happier to see that it was a good size fish, too, at 15 pounds, easily. I unhooked her and released her back to the pool, and retied my fly to the leader.

I fished the remainder of the pool without any disturbance to my casting and wading cadence. The morning was clear and bright; Sauk Mountain was stunning in the spring sunshine. I walked back upstream to my canoe and was about to toss my rod in before shoving off. Before doing so, I thought about that first rap I had when I began fishing the pool. I thought maybe it was a different fish than the bright hen I had landed.

So I waded back in and repeated again the process of working out my line. Just as before, I hadn't quite reached my usual working length of line when the same rap was repeated. Only this time it stuck, and a good steelhead thrashed at the surface of the water and began a long downstream run. I always appreciate a steelhead that shows me that backing line is necessary. It seems so few do so. Thankfully, this fish wasn't one of them, but the 100 yards of dacron on the Princess was more than enough. I played the fish longer than usual, longer even than the good sized hen I caught a short time earlier. It was apparent that this steelhead was even larger, so I began walking upstream and toward where my canoe was beached. I had a camera in my pack, and thought I might want to record this fish, should I land it. I grabbed my camera, stuck it in my pocket, and then gradually led the fish into the shallow water. A large buck lay on his side well short of the shoreline, as he was both deep and thick bodied.

I snapped a couple shots and then pulled a tape from my vest and verified that he was just shy of 40". I then measured his girth before unhooking the fly and moving him to deeper water so that he could remain upright. I reflected on what had just transpired for a moment, and then, out of character for me, I let out a loud war whoop. Hey, it's only a fish. But it was only a fish in the way that getting laid for the first time is only sex.

This time I walked back to my canoe, tossed my rod in, and shoved off. I stopped at the car body hole, but only stayed long enough to make a few half-hearted casts. This particular day of steelhead fishing couldn't get any better. I shoved off again, and paddled down to the old gov't wagon road and carried my gear and canoe to my truck. There I found a pen and paper, and that buck penciled out to 23 pounds. I wouldn't catch another steelhead close to that size for another year. And although big fish came and went, I wouldn't land a larger one for another 13 years. Such is the verisimilitude of steelheading.

OK already! Here I am on the second day of a four day weekend, not fishing. Just reflecting on steelhead past. If this rain keeps up, I'll be able to go out on the street again and cast and get a pretty good drift and swing.

Sincerely,

Salmo g.

[Will Atlas]

great post salmo...you should scan that photo of the steelhead and post it here. I'd love to see a beautiful wild steelhead with all these rivers blown.

Will

[Coach Duff]

Salmo, I'm just curious. You can read water that's a given. But why did you go to the high speed hi D? Why didn't you "manipulate" one of those fluff balls using the currents down to that baby? BECAUSE IN WINTER, LINES CATCH FISH BROTHER!!!:D Just thought I'd throw that meaningless drivel in for a chuckle. Somebody has to keep ya honest. What kind of canoe were ya using back then? I did some canoe drifting on the Shanendoah river in Virgina for small mouth bass in the early to mid 90s.. Floating in a canoe made things a little more special it seemed to me. Napping by a canoe on a grassy bank river in lazy weather after hitting a bunch of smallies on poppers was good times. Thanks for the canoe memories. Good memories. Coach

[Smalma]

Salmo -
Thanks for bring back some memories of the that special spring fishing on the Sauk during the 1980s. Expecially during the first half of that decade the Sauk produce any number of special days and fish that were even more special. The unique combination of light fishing pressure, great fish and a wild river lead to some unforgettable times.

BTW - While Mueller was the area bio at the start of the Sauk wild broodstock program he was the regional bio when the Sauk went to the CnR season. The idea for that season came from the desk of the young bio that took over his duties as the area bio whose area included the Sauk.

Tight lines
Curt

[Will Atlas]

hmm, wonder who that young bio was;)

[Salmo_g]

CK,

I have two framed prints of that fish. I think I know where the original slide is, but I'm not really sure. If it's where I think it is, it's a big box with 20 years of slides in it, almost all unlabled. Kind of a retirement project.

Coach,

I could have fished several different lines effectively in that sweet water. I went to a 15' HS,HD sink tip in 1977 when that line was introduced by SA because I found I could more easily fish it effectively in more places than all the other lines I'd tried up to that point. I know you're giving me a deserved ration, and that's OK. A line is necessary to deliver the fly. Might as well choose one that does the job well, and is a delight to fish.

In that year I had a 16' fiberglass canoe made by a guy that called them Wilderness West. I beat that poor thing up pretty bad from 1975, floating places it wasn't intended for, like the lower few miles of the Cascade (now that was a mistake!) and the Sol Duc in low water, the NF Stilly, and the Sauk and Skagit were pretty mild by comparison. It was all cracked up beyond further repair, and in 1984 I bought an Ouzel by Easy Rider. I still have and occasionally use that boat.

Smalma,

Sorry. Didn't mean to slight ya'. Ted didn't give proper credit when he explained it to me, I see. And the new area bio wasn't THAT young!

Thanks for the gift. Before it went regional, and then national, that fishery was the best. I feel like a fool in hindsight. I should have taken all of March and April off during those first few years, and fished it like York. It was a world class fishery in my back yard, and I didn't appreciate it half enough. I appreciated it enough to stop driving to northern BC for steelhead, tho. Weekends were wonderful. Sleep in til 7, read the paper over coffee, drive upriver about 9, fish, catch steelhead, go home and play with the kids.

Sincerely,

Salmo g.

[Smalma]

Salmo -
At that time I don't think any of us realized what wonderful opportunity we had in our own backyard; thought it would last for ever. I can remember drifting the upper river and not seeing a soul and having first water all day long - in some cases the first rod on the water in days. With those big aggressive fish willing to move considerable distance to take - one can only describe the experience as WOW!!

You mentioned the wild brood stock. The spring of 1983 was just unbelieveable as far as big fish went. I can remember going through the brood stock pond and handling just monster fish. The large brood fish was a 31.5# and I remember 2 females that were over 25# (actual scale weights as scales, lengths and weights were taken from all the fish). More then 20% of the 55 some fish in the pond were more than 20#s. I personally caught as many such fish in 1983 as I have in all the rest of my 45 + year career of steelhead fishing.

Tight lines
Curt

[Salmo_g]

One evening that spring six steelhead of 18# and up were caught in the lower end of Sauk Bar. I didn't hook a one of 'em; I was down in the Mixer wading in a log jam untangling a friend's steelhead of a lifetime that taped out at 23#. Finally we hiked back up to the bar, and York was releasing his 5th consecutive big fish of the evening. I did get a barely 20 a week earlier. All in all, it wasn't bad for the amount of time I spent fishing. That was an unusual season, no doubt about it. I think that was the same year Gary caught a Sauk hen that taped 45".

One point about the brood stock fish. They weren't representative of the population. The anglers wanted big fish as brood stock, thinking that would result in greater numbers of large fish returning in subsequent years. They often released average sized fish, hoping to fill the truck with 3 and 4 salts.

If marine survival for Puget Sound steelhead ever returns to those levels, good times are possible again. It will be more crowded, however. Too many knotheads somehow got the misinformation that fly fishing for steelhead would be a productive way to spend their free time.

Sincerely,

Salmo g.

[Jason B]

That's ok if it weren't for me you would still be drifting your sac under a bobber....Biatch!

LOLOLOLOLOLOL I have a couple of friends I can say that to!!! :D

[Jason B]

Salmo -
At that time I don't think any of us realized what wonderful opportunity we had in our own backyard; thought it would last for ever. I can remember drifting the upper river and not seeing a soul and having first water all day long - in some cases the first rod on the water in days. With those big aggressive fish willing to move considerable distance to take - one can only describe the experience as WOW!!

You mentioned the wild brood stock. The spring of 1983 was just unbelieveable as far as big fish went. I can remember going through the brood stock pond and handling just monster fish. The large brood fish was a 31.5# and I remember 2 females that were over 25# (actual scale weights as scales, lengths and weights were taken from all the fish). More then 20% of the 55 some fish in the pond were more than 20#s. I personally caught as many such fish in 1983 as I have in all the rest of my 45 + year career of steelhead fishing.

Tight lines
Curt

HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ HOLY SHIZZ :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek:

[bigtj]

A couple weeks ago I was fishing up in BC on the Morice. We had gotten a tip about a run that had been producing well and we decided to drift to it the next day. We stopped and fished that spot hard river left, it looked really good but no grabs. Well something told me we hadn't hit it right so the next day we decided to walk and wade in the same area. It was a major hump to get to that spot through the brush and my other buddies opted out for easier holes. I finally got down there about 1 in the afternoon. Fished it on a quick pass river left and not a tug. Sat on the bank to think about it and realized I needed to try things river right. So crossed over to the other side and within 5 minutes - wham. Then wham, wham, wham. An hour and 55 minutes later I had hooked 8 steelhead landing 3, lost a really nice fish on a hard fight, and also got a silver to boot, on just 2 passes through the run. Most of the fish were average sized - about 30" - and I did lose one about 36", but I didn't really care about size or losing 5 fish, they were all great fish. At that point I had to head back - the slog back to the truck was waiting - but it was by far the most exciting ~2 hours of steelheading in my life. The weather, the light, the trees and the solitude the quiet - everything was perfect. It was like being on my own planet.

Needless to say next year I'll be trying that run river right first time around.

[Will Atlas]

wow, strong work. I'm saving my pennies to fish up there someday soon.
Will

[Coach Duff]

I was on the Grande Ronde 10 years ago for 4 days. All the regulars were there. Bob York was his usual pitbull self, scooping us in the dark.:beer2: John Farrar was doing his thing. It was another year on the Ronde. Everybody on the river was hitting fish. Lots of fish. Buttloads of fish. I watched a guy land 14 in front of Jim Vincent's motorhome. I saw 3 spoon fishermen land 33 between them before lunch. I saw fish caught on skaters, wets, sink tips, floaters, spoons, dink floats and jigs, spinners, you name it, it was working. Except whatever combination I was using. I felt like Pigpen in "Peanuts". There was a cloud of skunkdom floating above me. In 3 days I saw more steelhead landed than in the previous year combined on all rivers.:eek: Everytime I made a cast I expected a pull. And the pull never came.:( 9 year olds were hitting fish with Scooby Doo rods, I got nothing.:confused: No pull, no boil, no nothing. It came to a head when a guy walked in above me and asked to fish down behind me river right right below the gate there. He then told me it was his first time steelheading. He hit three in half an hour. With one of my flies I gave him.bawling: I hit none. Zero. Goose Egg. That night, I hit the bed in my hotel in Lewiston shattered.:beer1: I had to leave the next day about three PM for the drive to Seattle. I drove to the Ronde at sun-up crossed the river and fished the big rock below the gate river right. I was guessing by this point. The confidence was just not there anymore. I was "rattled" I'll admit it. Things seemed different. No one was hitting fish. No one. The river seemed dead. Great I thought, perfect end to a trip.:hmmm: The water was up a bit so I put on a sink tip and a Purpil Peril digging deep into the well to find some faith. 2 hours later I had hooked 7 and landed 7. I've hooked more before and since a few times and landed 6 on one day twice, but never 7 for 7. The best day of my steelheading life.:thumb: The fish I landed were the only fish I saw that day. I floated above my body the whole ride home. If that isn't steelheading in a nutshell, what is? I guess that' s why we live for it. God I love those steelies!;) Tight lines Coach Duff

[Salmo_g]

CK,

BC steelheading isn't as cheap as it used to be, but it's not a bad bargain. Main expenses now are gas to get there and license and day tickets, unless you drink a god awful lot. Go with a friend and split the gas cost.

Sincerely,

Salmo g.

[Will Atlas]

when I graduate college, I'm spending an entire year steelheading...I plan on spending a good couple weeks in the Skeena region. Also...anyone looking for a shuttle on Ronde or deschutes.... ;)

[solduc]

best day of steelheading? i've been fortunate enough to spend most of my life fishing for steelhead. looking back that may have been a curse, as i have pretty much ruined my life pursuing these fish. as the years pile on, the memory begins to blur, but can recall some truly fantastic days on the dean and skeena tribs. spent many days on the snake and grande ronde when the fishing was easy and double digit days fairly routine. but those memories of endless "shucking and hulling" of fish fade in comparison to recalling a particular fish or event, fishing with family and friends, and the rivers we shared.
late sept. 1978; hiked up alone to favorite rainforest river that has a small run of native summer steelhead. camped where a major tributary joined the main flow. "cinch hole" as it was known then by the few fishermen that bothered to make the hike. i had just moved back to the coast after spending a year in maupin on the deschutes and felt like i was pretty good at catching fish. elk were bugling in the meadow and big chinook were rolling in the slack water. it was good to be back home. fished the next morning without a touch with the standard flies in those days, skunks, mcloud uglies, etc.. Had been rereading haig-brown at the time and so had tied a few steelhead bees for the trip. i had never purposely fished on top for steelhead. they skated beautifully through the tail out with no takers. standing at the bottom of the pool, soaking up the scenery when a steelhead porpoised a short cast upstream. instinctively covered the rise and immediately the fish ate the drifting fly in a slow head and tail rise. image is still etched in my brain. after a long delay i lifted the rod and much to my surprise the fish was hooked. nothing else particularly remarkable, but that one fish, that one event, in some way, made a difference in the life of this steelhead fool.

[Salmo_g]

Solduc,

It's still known by that name.

Experiences like that do strange things to an otherwise normal and productive citizen.