I didn't get enough fishing in over the weekend
so I headed out to
my "favorite stream" (right Terry?) this morning hoping for a little more action. (Beware of another long read, John.)
On the first cast of the day, my float popped under and I set back into nothing. I knew it wasn't bottom--not nearly shallow enough--so I cast back into the same seam and, sure enough, the float popped under a second time. I set back hard and this time was met with several heavy headshakes. What happened over the next 10 minutes will be forever etched in my memory.
The fish immediately peeled off 10 yards of line. No big deal--he was still a good 20 yards from the drop at the bottom of the hole (which led into whitewater), and I was able to gain some line on him before too long. When he took it right back a second later, though, and went into a series of twisting headshakes and short runs, I began to feel that this fish was packing something extra. Boy was he ever.
Out of nowhere, he came alive like no fish ever has on me before (not even mid-upper teens natives), and
peeled off 40 yards of line like it was nothing--40 yards of line, that is, 10 yards over the drop and into whitewater. I couldn't believe it. I still had tension on him, as he had settled into a pocket behind a boulder, but I knew I had to move towards him fast or he would be back on another run and gone for good. I waded down the slippery tailout as quickly as I could while cranking up slack to keep the tension on. He thought about running a couple times, but I had enough pressure on to discourage it for the time being, and it wasn't long before I was at the edge of the drop, ready to engage him again.
I cranked down and lifted back, and, yeah, he came alive again. He made several thrashing leaps--in whitewater--as he worked his way down, up, and in between the boulders. I must have looked ridiculous standing there in the low morning light with a pair of sunglasses on and my mouth hanging open, but it was all I could do to watch. This fish was incredible.
After a solid 5 minutes, he began to wear down to where I could think about controlling him. Ok, great; now all I had to do was coax him back up the drop into the tailout and find somewhere to land him. This was much, much easier said than done. All it took was a slight turn to the side and this fish was back down the chute, more or less out of control again. It took 4 seperate attempts to get him back into the hole (me going downstream further was not an option).
I began to lead him up the hole, thinking I had won, but it wasn't over. As soon as he got 20 seconds of rest in that calmer water, he turned on again and took another 15 yard run for the drop. You've gotta be kidding me! I went after him and was barely able to catch him before he went down again. Once again, I began to lead him up the hole.
Like I said, it was a slippery tailout, and, as (bad) luck would have it, in between trying to watch where I was stepping and trying to keep an eye on this fish (which was doing his best at darting for boulders, wood, and anything else he could find), I stepped onto an unseen boulder and went into the drink. It wasn't too deep, but my knee smashing on the bottom and my pullover acting like a sponge in the cold water combined to make it plenty uncomfortable.
Despite this unwanted addition the the battle, the fish stayed on, and I promptly got back up to continue leading him up the hole (and stop getting wet). When the time finally came, allmost as if he pitied the stupid fisherman, he came into the shallows and went onto his side without much struggle.
He wasn't a very big fish--maybe 10 pounds--but he was one of the thickest hatchery fish I've ever seen. He was in fairly good shape, considering it's late September, and I was certainly hungry for steelhead, but there was no way I could kill this fish.
As soon as I worked the jig out of his snout (the perfect hookset was undoubtedly the saving grace in this fight), I took him out into the current. He bolted as soon as he was submerged. Man, they don't make many hatchery fish like that one.
I still had the majority of the morning ahead of me, and I fished through some more great holding water looking for another fish. My opportunity came at an unexpected time, and I got a very poor hookset. It was one of those sweeping takedowns in a shallow spot, which clearly appeared to be a hang-up on a ledge I could see, but when I raised my rod to free the jig, the ledge gave a headshake and flashed on the surface. Too late.
Oh well. Where I'm from, 2 hookups in a morning of fishing isn't bad, and you can bet I'll be back at it later this week. I have to be, as college starts back up next week!
Andrew
