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Starting Time: 7:00 AM
Location: Skykomish River
Method of Persuasion: Jigs
Setup: Okuma Celilo 9'6" 4-8 Pound Test Rod, Shimano Stradic Reel, 10 Pound Test Hydrofloat
For a gardener, I imagine there are few things more satisfying than finding good soil to work with. Soil that not only has the ability to retain vital nutrients, but the potential to provide a future residence for a worthy plant. I'm thankful Brian decided to call me, for Brian and his son, Mason, were just the type of "soil" I was looking for. The Saturday prior to our excursion, we trained in the classroom, hand crafting jigs, weaving yarn balls, and studying the key elements of Steelhead holding water, in preparation for the instruction to come.
You know those days when you beat your alarm clock one minute to the punch? The type of morning when your eye lids pop right open like an oven roasted popcorn kernel, and caffeine becomes a memory of the past? Yes, It was one of those. After the crank of the key and the subsequent awakening my slumbering, red plated "beast" of a Civic, I was off like a Steelhead hooked on 6 pound fluorocarbon leader. And no, I do not endorse the use of fluorocarbon; that Izorline allows me to keep a few nickels lining the bottom of my pockets, while gracing me many Steelhead to the bank. From the eyes of a Steelhead guide, it distills down to the following, over immaculate line clarity: float speed, color and depth.
The first 20 minutes of our instruction consisted of blank casting (no live ammunition), until Brian and Mason, were casting like Bass Pro's and mending line like the practiced hands of a seamstress. How a great dividend was paid, following their diligent practice. After dialing in to the water, off we shot down the river, identifying seams, pockets of holding water and deftly placing casts to the opposing bank. Mason's first cast landed in the "belly of the run;" his float slipped underneath the water, but slack prevented a proper hook set. 5 minutes later, the water engulfed Brian's float, his rod loaded a light head shake, and then straightened back out. Hands weary from tying and having run out of patterns to stimulate the now "stale" bunch of Steelhead, it was time to "run from this slot" and "gun" to the next.
A wise angler once shared with me the importance of "creating a circuit of three to six well known slots." On any given day, it is highly likely one of your 6 slots will hold a willing biter. Not only has this led to my personal success as an angler, but how it has forever changed the way I approach water and the style of angling that I teach to my students. So, after a short refresher, we parked our frozen wading soles in the second slot. Brian sailed out his first cast. Two tastefully placed Hydrofloat mends, a carefully selected color and the proper feeding of line later, his float took a dive. Two seconds prior to the "sinking" portion of the run, Brian diverted his gaze as Mason and I redirected ours, watching Brian's float sink faster than a speeding bullet; I'll let you fill in the dialogue, facial expressions and banter you'd imagine after this scene... So it goes, Steelhead: 4, Anglers: 0. Moving on, Brian whipped out his second cast. And yet another. Just as his float was about to exit the slot on his fourth attempt, it shuddered, hesitated and began to inch beneath the surface; it was like spectating a descending escalator at Bellevue Square. He waited patiently for the float to disappear and subsequently executed a picture perfect hook set. "Fish on!" Brian chirped. Finally, he was rewarded with a bending rod and four adrenaline pumping head shakes, two ingredients exclusively manufactured by the Winter Run Steelhead.
For the appetizer, this intelligible fish immediately finned it's way to the tip of his rod, faking exhaustion. Responding quickly, we loosened the drag and sent a few shocks down the line to stimulate a run. With no response, I attempted water landing procedure; after a failed landing attempt, he shot off like a lever action Winchester 94 Carbine. One line stripping run upriver, two surface attempts and numerous underwater head shakes were in store with this young buck. Watching Brian play this Steelhead was like watching a locksmith precision cut a worn key; it was a treat indeed. The back and forth style of fighting from this particular contestant was reminiscent of the swaying motion of the conifers during a winter wind storm. As cortisol and fatigue set in, our Winter Buck lifted his dorsal fin, and opted for a trade. In exchange for his two fillets and a trophy picture of father and son, we provided him an intimate gander at my GoPro 3 Black Edition, and a blue penned catch code and date on Brian's catch card.
Though it would be desirable, not every outing ends with tangible success, manifesting in the form of a Steelhead. These wild creatures, reverent and defiant in nature, have gambled the odds and come out on top in the salt and glacial fed waters. Hatchery Steelhead or Native, both have been inducted in the 1% club; they demand a great deal of respect. The pursuit of Steelhead is an art, one that cannot be described through digital ink, nor conceptualized through the simplicity of a photograph nor YouTube video. For those of you who have yet to cast a line, I'd like to introduce you to the sport. Others who have filled their creel in seasons past, I challenge you to walk the river bank with me, in pursuit of your trophy fish. Fly or gear, the pursuit of meat or of the art, we all pursue the vitality and electricity only the pursuit of Steelhead fishing can bring. Keep those line mends succinct, my friends. Reel Priorities, out.
Rock to rock. Cast by cast.
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