It rained last night, but this rain was of a different sort. After a winter of frigid, chilling rain, which saturates the landscape this rain felt very distinctive. Every spring, with the trees budding out, the flowers awakened from their winter slumber, there is a noticeable shift in the smell of the air, and the feeling of the rain on the skin. This is type of rain that seems to quench the land, feeding yet more life into the vibrancy of springs new growth.
With these rains come the last trickles of late spawning wild, winter steelhead. In rivers all around the Northwest coast, bright females, laden with loose eggs will slide into their natal streams and deposit their offspring into the river of their ancestors. Among the dark males and spawned out females desperate to return to the ocean and recover their strength, these fish can be found. Close to tide, in the green, mysterious broken water lays the last bright fish of winter.