Having the day off, but feeling a bit sick... I decided to take a break from the steelheading, cast/mend/swing routine, and went to a spot where I know some big bulls would be chowing down on some Humpy eggs. Gearing up with a tandem flesh/egg combo under an indicator, I made my way down below some obvious redds. The first few cast resulted in a couple whities, but a half a dozen later, I connected with something solid. A nice'n fat 18” or so Dolly puking up eggs. Sweet, I thought this is going to be cake. Then the rain started. That seemed to be the trigger for the pinks to get really aggressive at anything floating by. I couldn’t make a single cast with out one picking it up for a run. After few of those, and not really being able to sight cast to any bulls I decided to head to a steelhead/coho run that I haven’t fished all summer.. Thinking maybe a big streamer at dusk would convince a fresh silver or maybe even some steel to take. Some good fun with a 6wt and some heavy Flouro tippet. Fishing through the first run with no tugs on the “bigblack” I decided to switch up to the “babyblack” at the beginning of the next run. Starting up top at the riffle is a fishy little slot, that in years past has produced some nice fish for me. First cast and strip through… babyblack get HAMMERED, but no hook up. Shit, there goes my chance, because it’s starting to get dark, real fast. Pull in the fly check the hook point, yup, still sharp. Toss it back in there… Gotchya! Wait, this isn’t the same fish, a good SRC, but not the same fish. I play the cutt up to the bank, take a look at the nice orange slashes and send him on his way. I turned and quickly tossed another cast into the slot. Not noticing, that during all the high sticking to get the cutt to the bank… I had managed to somehow loop the flyline around my backpack, hood, and neck. A fact that I instantly found out when my line went tight and all I saw was about 10 or so pounds of steel doing backflips down the run, with the line quickly burning around my neck until it cam to a hard stop. Cutting off my air for longer than I felt comfortable not breathing. Pulling the rod to the side to try to get some slack back from the fish, gave me just enough time to yank my line over my head and free it from under my hood. In the process dunking my new oiled AATF hat in the drink. Shit… But I got the f**ker now!! He quickly took that slack, gave me a couple more crazed flips and then the line went limp. Damn… Just as well, this rain sucks, and where is the trail??