I finally was able to get out for my second steelheading trip of the winter. In an ordinary year I would probably have a few dozen trips under my belt by now, however life's other demands have been consuming much of my time. Boy did it feel great to actually get out on the water!
I had been drooling over the possibility of having Sunday morning free for the entire week, and I was watching the water levels intently in hopes that one of my favorite rivers would be dropping into prime shape. Almost as if divine intervention occurred and God himself placed every variable perfectly into place, I could not have asked for a better day on the water. Sunshine and blue skies all day, warm weather, perfect water conditions, and lots of catching.
After a short hike from my car I arrived at the first hole. There was no indication of angler activity aside from the oversized footprints left behind from my size 14 wading boot. At approximately 8:45 I started fishing and shortly before 9:00 I received an arm-wrenching tug from a hot 7lber who completely demolished my spoon.
Less than 30 minutes later I was into my second fish of the day. It was slightly smaller and colored up but put up a great fight regardless. Kramer worms only catch boots… at least the orange-tailed worm.
A few holes upstream, I watched my 3/8 oz. spoon swing its way through a tailout next to a large boulder, and following in hot pursuit was a big darker shadow who took a savage swipe, and came up just inches short of the 2/0 hook. I continued working the hole over with differing tactics, none of which were able to elicit any attention from the big fish, so on I pressed.
It wasn’t long after I was greeted by another nice 7lb fish that fell victim to the 50/50.
After a bit of hiking, and a few more drive by misses, I realized I had wandered further from that car than I felt comfortable with by myself, so I turned around and started working my way back. After what seemed like an endless amount of hiking, and a semi-brief conversation with the only other angler spotted all day, sunlight was quickly fading. I contemplated hiking straight back to the car but my intuition was able to convince me to work over the water I started the day at. I am sure glad I did.
It was easy to believe there could be more than 1 fish in this hole. It had depth, structure, and ideal current speed making it the perfect home for a nice steely. As I worked my way down the run without any action, I took what would be the last cast of the day.
Halfway through the swing, my line stopped. I lifted up to free my spoon from what I believed to be a snag and felt a small headshake of irritation from a big steely. I set the hook and the water exploded with a big leap from a mid-teener. After a thorough ass kickin’ I was able to work it in close to the bank when my line snapped. I dove for the tail of the fish in hopes of getting my lucky spoon back and successfully got my hand around the tail!
It was a pleasure seeing such a magnificent fish return to this river, and to then watch the fish dart back to the depths of the run. Knowing that fish like that still exist, gives me a sense of hope that if we are able to preserve what we have, advocate for wild steelhead, and treat them with respect, they may be able to stick around for a while longer.
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