Alive Again

Venturing almost as far from civilization as is possible in these parts, Ralf and I spent yesterday exploring some new water and visiting a few of his favorites. It was a perfect day for steelheading, mild with temperatures reaching into the 50s by afternoon and a light drizzle falling for most of the morning. In the steep glacial valley the clouds hung close the precipitous mountain sides, draped in moss and studded with the hardscrabble firs and spruce which predominate the region. The river looked good too, after falling for almost a week it still had a touch of color and enough flow to give us confidence in our presentations. A month of fishless swings had my confidence at a low ebb, but this time of year anytime the line is in the water good things can happen.

About 11:30 we crossed the river and walked up to a nice run where two braids came together, pushing hard against the left bank and creating a soft bucket in the head. Ralf chose to fish the tail, a long ambling piece of water and I shuffled up to the top. The run was fishy and swimming my white, pink and orange offering through I felt I was covering the water well. maybe 15 casts into the run the line tightened with an almost imperceptibly light tug. Waiting but focused I let the fish take the fly, turn and then set in a sweep towards the bank. Instantly it was rushing down and across river leaping downstream, then upstream again, far into my backing. After one of the strongest fights I have seen in some time the fish finally came to hand, a thick shouldered buck, bright and probably 12 pounds. Minutes later Ralf would hook and loose another fish on the leap.


We fished the rest of the day only landing a few bull trout, but the afternoon sun was glorious and the memory of the leaping fish is forever etched in my memory. We also had an encounter with a bobcat. Apparently unperturbed by our presence he sat watching us fish for almost an hour, at one point allowing me within 30 feet to snap a photo. A day like that revitalizes the will to fish, sharpens the focus and highlights just how preciously short the season is. In a land dominated by its glacial past and present fish arrive to the spawning grounds late. From now until freshet we will see some of the best fishing of the year and I for one am really looking forward to it.

afternoon visitor

Why Steelhead?

In a post a few months ago I asserted, unequivocally that steelhead were the finest sport fish on the planet. As might be expected, that assertion raised some eyebrows and elicited this response from my buddy Matt Klara,

"I roll my eyes so hard that it gives me a headache. :) Of course you are completely entitled to your opinion. Just my personal opinion, but variety is the spice of the fishing life. Steelhead are great fish, but the approach to catching them, while relaxing and sexy, can get pretty damned boring. I think it all comes from the fact that they aren't actually feeding. The approach to trout and salt is completely different because the fish are feeding. You have to think at a higher level in my opinion. Sure steelhead rivers are beautiful, but so are the Rockies, Patagonia, the Bahamas, the Delta Marsh, Cape Cod, and on and on. The flats (especially pressured flats) are probably the most challenging fishing environment there is when all possible fishign skills are taken into account. Pounding out casts down and across is certainly no comparison to sight casting for fast moving, ultra spooky fish. And, because of my passion for variety, I find myself (stupidly) offended by your bold claim about steelhead. How many species of fish have you actually experienced in order to make said claim? While I admire those anglers who choose to devot their entire angling life to one species, it just isn't for me."

Granted hombre. I respect your passion for variaty (even for Carp fishing I think), and frankly I shouldnt be trying to convince other people how great steelhead are. In fact I should just shut my mouth, stay off the internet and go on fishing like a singleminded lunatic, BUT....

maybe I didnt explain myself entirely. Your criticism in part hinges on the fact that other types of fishing are far more challenging than steelheading, the presentation more exact, the fish spooky and feeding. Of course those situations demand a type of precision, knowledge of foraging habits and the ability to hang on tight when a gigantic tarpon or permit starts screaming at 15 knots. That said, I think steelheading is a lot more difficult than many believe.

Making the fly swing across the surface of the water isn't hard in and of itself. However, a good presentation in moving water, with variable depth, structure, speed, etc can be very difficult. How many dudes fish all day without presenting the fly properly and never even know it? Fishing the flats for bones you can instantly tell when you've made a poor presentation, the fish spook, turn the other way and the game is over, however given the lack of feedback in steelheading alot of it comes from feel. Understanding the depth and speed at which your fly is swinging, and the likelihood that the fly is fishing well comes from a feel for presentation which I believe can only come from countless hours on the water. that and a little bit of black magic, juju and fishwhisperness. I for one don't consider myself an expert, and the more I fish, the more this is apparent.

Another factor which your critique missed is the challenge of reading water, knowing which buckets, runs, reaches will hold fish throughout the season. Conditions are highly variable for steelheaders and the most successful angler considers the conditions carefully in their decision of where and how to fish. Again, this comes from hours and hours on the river, and is the type of intimacy that cannot be learned by traveling. Anglers who catch the most fish, have a few home rivers they know well for summer and winter. I cant say I know much about the migratory behavior of bonefish, tarpon, carp, and other species but what I do know about steelhead is that are highly migratory, ghostlike apparitions with a remarkable ability to be here one day, gone the next. As a consequence, understanding the interplay between environmental conditions, migratory behavior and all the angling variables described above is what a successful steelheader must strive for.

Steelheading is a percentage game and with only so many swings in a day, increasing the likelihood that your fly is in front of a fresh, rested fish is the only way to ensure consistent success. So Matt, you make alot of good points, and I understand the reaction to the standard issue steelhead bravado BS but, if steelheading were easy it would be called trout fishing. and that shits boring.

Then again, steelheading is crowded, boring, and there are no fish...anywhere. dont go steelheading, stay off the rivers, and go to rocky ford. Its very challenging and rewarding!

Matt Klara is a water resources engineer and writes for sexy loops. his work can be found here: http://www.sexyloops.com/matts/index.shtml
Matt's Weds Column
http://www.sexyloops.com/indexwed.shtml
Despite his trout and carp fishing tendencies he is an excellent steelheader and caster of one and two handed rods.

Just wanted to say

steelhead is the baddest, sweetest, most sexified fish on this glorious planet of ours. Thats coming from a dude who tends to like most kinds of fishes. Traveling with some familial types in a tropical destination of their choice right now. Spotted a pod of some 100 bone fish today off a dock, didn't even get my heart beating. Damned steelhead have ruined me. I used to even enjoy bass fishing. Somehow a fish that spends its whole life sitting next to a log growing slovenly fat just cannot stack up to a wild, ocean traveling chromer that spends three years traveling the high seas between the NW and russia.

Somewhere in the North Pacific

Somewhere in the north pacific a big, mean, three salt steelhead is headed for home. With the shortening days comes the irresistible biological fact of reproductive maturity. These fish are bound for sacred waters. In the heart of steelhead country, from the little coastal streams dripping with the maritime rains and wintry mosses to the tremendous, raw and brawling glacial rivers of the Cascade, Olympic and Coast Ranges. These oceanic fish cruise day after day, in no particular hurry. Just below the surface at times, at others making dives to depths to avoid the predators of day, or perhaps to find food themselves. These fish are the oceans perfect traveler, chrome and white, their ocean camoflauge disguises them from enemy and prey alike. Their long, muscular bodies and clear, almost ghostlike fins have traveled thousands of kilometers. All waiting for this year, when they in all their quicksilver brilliance will ascend the rivers of their birth. They're coming, and I'm....waiting.

Fall

God I love fall. If you're a fisherman and you don't get a special kind of giddy feeling at the thought of fall fishing you better check your pulse and I'm not talking about some baetis hatch on the Yakima here. Fall is when the inland rivers are choked with steelhead, water temps hover in the 50s and fish will move four feet to hammer a number 8 hairwing or skater. Fall is also when huge, prehistorically badass wild chinook salmon enter our rivers, the last of the pink snagging assclowns are off the river and the coho really start to come in in good numbers. Yes, fall is the time when most of us seriously consider quitting our jobs, leaving our women and sleeping under a bridge on our favorite steelhead river just so we can savor every last minute of it.

A sweet fall fish on the dryline, hella manly or something. Hangdown...



Of course fall is poingiant to. The leaves are changing, the river is cooling down and pretty soon those inland rivers will slumber for the winter. When the first snow falls at snoqualmie pass you know it wont be long until the water temps drop below 45 and the dryline game is done. Well, soak it up whlie you can, record numbers of fish in the Columbia ment record numbers of douchnozzles out there flailing around with bobbers but with the weather getting shitty, most of them are home watching the NFL. Me, I'll just keep fishing that floating line, hoping for one more grab to put the icing on whats already been a memorable season.

Check out the photo of Ryans river sleigh and the fall colors post photoshopage. (boat for transport only)

Welcome to the blog

Welcome to the apocalypse steelhead blog. Don't know what inspired me to start this rag of "self expression" I just figure I'm sick over how much I love steelhead and there might be some other junkies out there who can relate. So thats really it, we'll see where it goes. Dont make too much of the title, I'm not some crazy bible thumping whack job moron but we might well be living in the last days of steelhead fishing. Personally I hope to god we aren't and I'm willing to fight tooth and nail to save the wild fish that we all love so much. Cause fuckin eh, wild steelhead are something else. Who doesn't remember their first. Or the first time you got your ass absolutely handed to you. Steelhead drive us to madness, alienate us from family, girlfriends and nonfishermen generally. No one who hasn't experienced the high these fish could bring would ever even consider standing ass deep in a near freezing river with snow, sleet and hail pounding down all day. But fuck, when you're tailing a three foot long sauk hen with 4,000 foot snow covered northcascades towering over you its all worth it. So, thats what I do. Yeah occasionally I work, go to school or do whatever the fuck else the rat race demands but most of the time I'm not fishing I'm daydreaming of it.

Now dont get the wrong idea, I'm not some ass clown, chest thumping lip ripper. I loath people with that mentality, I also loath bobber fishing cheesedicks (more on this later) . How could you possibly thiink of nothing but pure, overzelous, exploitation of these amazing wild fish when we're all watching them slip away. Every wild fish is a gem, and anyone who sees it that way is alright in my book. So thats it. Hope you all enjoy the blog.

Oh and I thought I better start this off with a little nod to all the chromer loving bastards out there. Here's one from the northcountry