This past Tuesday I took a day off and headed into my favorite backcountry steelhead river. This price of admission is steep–like the trail in and keeps the hordes away. The payoff? This river cranks out steelhead. I’ve never been skunked down there . . . ok, once but the water was totally blown out. Doesn’t count.
I fished the fly rod hard, working the first good hole hard. Every possible drift, around rocks, in front of rocks, the soft pockets behind the rocks, I covered it all. I spent about 30 minutes on that. I gave up on that hole with that method and ran a spinner through the same water I had just thoroughly worked. Fifth cast and my rod bucked hard . . . and then it was over. Huge fish, heavy water, broken line. Odd.
I continued to work upstream hitting all the good holes with the fly rod. Nada. I took a couple photos of the natural development of a log jam.
Year one:
Year Two:
I made one throw away cast with the spinner and saw a fish turn and chase, slamming it ferociously. Sadly, the hen steelhead had eaten my spinner deeply and she was hooked in the gills:
She was pumping blood and it wouldn’t clot–fish blood doesn’t, and that she would die from her wound. There are no hatchery fish in the river and you can’t keep wild fish. I considered keeping her anyway though she wouldn’t cut well but decided against it, that her body was better spent feeding the river where it would do more good. I watched her swim away weakly . . . .
I continued upstream, fishing less enthusiastically but further upstream than I have ever fished before and it was worth it. I found lots of good water that I’ll hit again and I was eaten twice more, though neither fish got stuck. I didn’t mind.
For now, my thoughts are turning towards spring and fly fishing for trout but I know I’ll be back next year and can hardly wait . . . .
