Took the Bote board out the other morning to practice paddling. The Gulf was calm and I was surprised with the clarity of the water after all of the wind the day before.
After about thirty minutes of paddling up and down the beach I noticed some bait jumping out of the water. I paddled over to take a look. I could see the bait and then I noticed a large mass of fish below. It was a school of large jacks just cruising around the bait. I stood motionless as the jacks swam circles underneath the board. I could only watch as I did not have a fishing rod onboard. I did imagine casting a clouser towards the school and watching the aggressive jacks fight to see which one could eat it first.
Hopefully we will get some light winds over the next few days and I can try to create some real fishing memories. I may flub my casts and miss shots at the next pod of jacks or cruising snook but it'll be better than just standing there watching.
Showing posts with label fly fishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fly fishing. Show all posts
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Saturday, April 19, 2014
The Lure
Ever since I sold my boat last summer before moving from Washington to Florida the siren song of owning another vessel has been a weight on my shoulders. That is no longer the case.
Last weekend I had a three hour drive to a marathon on the East Coast of Florida and was hot to trot as I saw the boat of my dreams listed on craigslist. It was within my price range and had the exact outboard I wanted (Honda). Over the long stretches of pavement I kept thinking about the launching, storage, maintenance, and other associated issues of boat ownership. These thoughts became a major buzz-kill to thoughts of the wind in my hair and being able to fish almost anywhere. It was a heavyweight fight between the reality of ownership and the dream of boat ownership.
Reality won as thoughts from my past came flooding back. I started remembering how much I enjoyed fishing from a kayak back in the Pacific Northwest. I even wrote about the limitations of kayak fishing back in August of 2011 here. I came to the decision that I was happiest when I was the horsepower. I had already sold my kayak so I needed a new fishing platform. There are differences between saltwater fly fishing in the Northwest and Florida so I decided on a Stand up Paddleboard.
My new boat is a Bote SUP and I cannot wait for the winds to die down a bit to test it out. I have a ton of learning to do but I look forward to the higher casting position a SUP gives.
Here's to a summer of adventure and here's a little video of the board I just purchased.
BOTE HD 12'6" Stand-up Paddle Paddle Board from BOTE Board on Vimeo.
Last weekend I had a three hour drive to a marathon on the East Coast of Florida and was hot to trot as I saw the boat of my dreams listed on craigslist. It was within my price range and had the exact outboard I wanted (Honda). Over the long stretches of pavement I kept thinking about the launching, storage, maintenance, and other associated issues of boat ownership. These thoughts became a major buzz-kill to thoughts of the wind in my hair and being able to fish almost anywhere. It was a heavyweight fight between the reality of ownership and the dream of boat ownership.
Reality won as thoughts from my past came flooding back. I started remembering how much I enjoyed fishing from a kayak back in the Pacific Northwest. I even wrote about the limitations of kayak fishing back in August of 2011 here. I came to the decision that I was happiest when I was the horsepower. I had already sold my kayak so I needed a new fishing platform. There are differences between saltwater fly fishing in the Northwest and Florida so I decided on a Stand up Paddleboard.
My new boat is a Bote SUP and I cannot wait for the winds to die down a bit to test it out. I have a ton of learning to do but I look forward to the higher casting position a SUP gives.
Here's to a summer of adventure and here's a little video of the board I just purchased.
BOTE HD 12'6" Stand-up Paddle Paddle Board from BOTE Board on Vimeo.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
First Trip Back
I left the Olympic Peninsula in September of 2005 after closing up my charter fishing business. Leaving started a journey of jobs and cities I might never have discovered had I remained. My journey back to the peninsula began in the winter of 2009.
My first trip back to the coast was in February 2009. I had some vacation time so I decided to make the long drive out to the coast from Colorado. What made this winter steelhead trip on the coast unique was the lack of rain for the entirety of the trip. The upside was that the larger glacial rivers were low and fishable for my entire trip as well as the bright, sunny weather. The bad thing was that there just were not a lot of fish around.
I fished hard for the first four days with nothing to show for it. What I could have never anticipated was that the years away from steelheading messed up my mind a bit. My memories gave more weight to the fish I had hooked in the past and had minimized the skunkings. The tough fishing I had experienced vanished from my memories as the trip approached. Of course the hyped-up fishing reports and blogs on the internet did not help. I had this laughable notion that I could just come back and quickly start hooking fish again. The first four days were a rude awakening.
The reality of steelhead fly fishing and my past memories couldn't have been further apart. I was unsure of where I should fish and really started to question my fishing decisions and my skill swinging the fly. I had entered a deep state of despair so I decided to take a break for a day and clear my head. I decided that a walk through the rainforest would be just the ticket to calm the static in my brain.
The next morning I arrived at the trailhead and just started walking. The hike was along a riverside trail but I was not wearing waders or carrying a fly rod. Three hours later I was well upstream and feeling much better. There is something calming about the simple act of walking and I sure needed it. I arrived back at the car feeling refreshed and ready to fish the next day.
During the walk I realized that I was probably not going to hook a fish during my trip. The low water and lack of fish were not working in my favor. I had to find another way to make the trip great. I came to the realization that the simple act of fishing the water well would have to do. I had to let go of all of the expectations I had before the trip and just simply enjoy spending time on the river regardless of the fish.
This realization did not come easy for me. It is hard to put aside expectations and push the ego aside and just fish for the simple act of fishing. Even today it can sometimes be difficult to go against the grain and do things your own way regardless of how everyone else is doing it (often with more success).
After setting aside my expectations and just working on fishing well you can imagine what happened. I ended up hooking a single fish about three hours of fishing "well." The fish was only on for maybe fifteen seconds but that single fish made the entire trip worth it.
I eventually moved back to the Olympic Peninsula about a year later. I try to remember the moment that fish grabbed the fly mid-swing whenever I am in the midst of a fish-less stretch or tempted to fish in ways I dislike just to catch a fish. I try to remember that fishing well is its own reward.
My first trip back to the coast was in February 2009. I had some vacation time so I decided to make the long drive out to the coast from Colorado. What made this winter steelhead trip on the coast unique was the lack of rain for the entirety of the trip. The upside was that the larger glacial rivers were low and fishable for my entire trip as well as the bright, sunny weather. The bad thing was that there just were not a lot of fish around.
I fished hard for the first four days with nothing to show for it. What I could have never anticipated was that the years away from steelheading messed up my mind a bit. My memories gave more weight to the fish I had hooked in the past and had minimized the skunkings. The tough fishing I had experienced vanished from my memories as the trip approached. Of course the hyped-up fishing reports and blogs on the internet did not help. I had this laughable notion that I could just come back and quickly start hooking fish again. The first four days were a rude awakening.
The reality of steelhead fly fishing and my past memories couldn't have been further apart. I was unsure of where I should fish and really started to question my fishing decisions and my skill swinging the fly. I had entered a deep state of despair so I decided to take a break for a day and clear my head. I decided that a walk through the rainforest would be just the ticket to calm the static in my brain.
The next morning I arrived at the trailhead and just started walking. The hike was along a riverside trail but I was not wearing waders or carrying a fly rod. Three hours later I was well upstream and feeling much better. There is something calming about the simple act of walking and I sure needed it. I arrived back at the car feeling refreshed and ready to fish the next day.
During the walk I realized that I was probably not going to hook a fish during my trip. The low water and lack of fish were not working in my favor. I had to find another way to make the trip great. I came to the realization that the simple act of fishing the water well would have to do. I had to let go of all of the expectations I had before the trip and just simply enjoy spending time on the river regardless of the fish.
This realization did not come easy for me. It is hard to put aside expectations and push the ego aside and just fish for the simple act of fishing. Even today it can sometimes be difficult to go against the grain and do things your own way regardless of how everyone else is doing it (often with more success).
After setting aside my expectations and just working on fishing well you can imagine what happened. I ended up hooking a single fish about three hours of fishing "well." The fish was only on for maybe fifteen seconds but that single fish made the entire trip worth it.
I eventually moved back to the Olympic Peninsula about a year later. I try to remember the moment that fish grabbed the fly mid-swing whenever I am in the midst of a fish-less stretch or tempted to fish in ways I dislike just to catch a fish. I try to remember that fishing well is its own reward.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
The Urgency of Fall
I awoke this morning to see a dusting of snow on the high peaks looming over the coastal town I call home. The snow makes sense when looking at the calendar but my mind revolts against the very idea that winter is bearing down on us.
The urgency of the season we call Fall is a blur. A blur because this season happens to be one of the best for outdoor pursuits, especially fishing in the Pacific Northwest. The remnants of this past summer are still available. Summer steelhead and saltwater salmon still give us one last taste of the warmer months that seem just like yesterday. Salmon are now pouring upriver with every rain and high tide. Sea run cutthroat prowl saltwater beaches and rise to dry flies in the fog draped river valleys.
There are too many options in the Fall. As I try to decide where to fish later this week I feel an urge that cannot be fulfilled. I still have places, rivers, and beaches I dreamed of fishing this summer and fall. Those dreams are burned into my memories and as long as winter stays away I keep the delusion alive that I still have a chance to take advantage of them. Like an addict I think if only the weather stays dry or the ocean breezes stay mild I could still take advantage of all that the Pacific Northwest offers. It is a fool's errand. Winter will eventually arrive. There is no stopping it's steady march towards our shores.
I will eventually accept the truth and start looking forward to what lies ahead. I just need another couple weeks.
The urgency of the season we call Fall is a blur. A blur because this season happens to be one of the best for outdoor pursuits, especially fishing in the Pacific Northwest. The remnants of this past summer are still available. Summer steelhead and saltwater salmon still give us one last taste of the warmer months that seem just like yesterday. Salmon are now pouring upriver with every rain and high tide. Sea run cutthroat prowl saltwater beaches and rise to dry flies in the fog draped river valleys.
There are too many options in the Fall. As I try to decide where to fish later this week I feel an urge that cannot be fulfilled. I still have places, rivers, and beaches I dreamed of fishing this summer and fall. Those dreams are burned into my memories and as long as winter stays away I keep the delusion alive that I still have a chance to take advantage of them. Like an addict I think if only the weather stays dry or the ocean breezes stay mild I could still take advantage of all that the Pacific Northwest offers. It is a fool's errand. Winter will eventually arrive. There is no stopping it's steady march towards our shores.
I will eventually accept the truth and start looking forward to what lies ahead. I just need another couple weeks.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Why I C&R
I can only imagine the shape the rod and reel are in now. Thirteen years being dragged along the jagged, rocky bottom of the Pacific Ocean by the daily currents can not be good to metal and graphite.
We've all dropped fishing gear into the water. Most of the time it is not a big deal. I've lost an uncountable number of flies over the years due to clumsy hands. Last winter I came within a second of seeing my entire supply of sink tips vanish after fumbling my shooting head wallet into a glacial river as I changed tips. The worst for me was losing an entire rod and reel overboard.
I was fishing right where the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the Pacific Ocean meet. There are some shallow rocky spots north of Tatoosh Island that can be fantastic places to catch rockfish on the fly at the right tide. The fish were finning all over the surface and the fishing was great. I unhooked a rockfish and left the fly dangling in the water right next to the boat and the rod leaned on the gunwale. As I was putting the rockfish in the cooler I heard a dragging noise. The noise was the fly reel moving along the deck. A rockfish had grabbed the fly sitting inches below the surface next to the boat and turned towards the bottom. I started towards the rod being pulled towards the edge of the boat. I felt like I was moving in slow motion as I swung around the console and saw the rod go over the edge. It felt like it happened in slow motion but I know the time between the fish grabbing the fly and the rod being swallowed by the ocean was just a matter of seconds.
I look back and realize that the lesson of that day is that harvesting rockfish results in a severe financial consequence. One more reason that catch and release can be a good thing.
We've all dropped fishing gear into the water. Most of the time it is not a big deal. I've lost an uncountable number of flies over the years due to clumsy hands. Last winter I came within a second of seeing my entire supply of sink tips vanish after fumbling my shooting head wallet into a glacial river as I changed tips. The worst for me was losing an entire rod and reel overboard.
I was fishing right where the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the Pacific Ocean meet. There are some shallow rocky spots north of Tatoosh Island that can be fantastic places to catch rockfish on the fly at the right tide. The fish were finning all over the surface and the fishing was great. I unhooked a rockfish and left the fly dangling in the water right next to the boat and the rod leaned on the gunwale. As I was putting the rockfish in the cooler I heard a dragging noise. The noise was the fly reel moving along the deck. A rockfish had grabbed the fly sitting inches below the surface next to the boat and turned towards the bottom. I started towards the rod being pulled towards the edge of the boat. I felt like I was moving in slow motion as I swung around the console and saw the rod go over the edge. It felt like it happened in slow motion but I know the time between the fish grabbing the fly and the rod being swallowed by the ocean was just a matter of seconds.
I look back and realize that the lesson of that day is that harvesting rockfish results in a severe financial consequence. One more reason that catch and release can be a good thing.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Friday, December 31, 2010
The year in review....
2010 was a great year.
The year started with a big move back to Washington State. The job situation didn't work out as expected, but being able to deal with unexpected issues and make changes is just part of life.
Summer was a blast. Lots of hiking and exploring. Checked out two fisheries I had always wanted to fish when I lived here previously. The true lesson is do not put off taking advantage of opportunities, and I know that I will strap on the pack and hit both of those fisheries again next summer. One highlight of the summer was one of the most visual skating dry fly takes I have ever seen. I can still picture the fly skating two feet in front of the exposed boulder and the fish coming up and exploding on the fly.
Summer also brought a couple trips back to the great big blue, the Pacific Ocean off of Neah Bay. This past summer wasn't the best year for salmon off the coast, but a good time was had and a few fish were caught. Next year I hope the silver runs increase and I can get out there and chase some on the cast fly.
This past year also marked my first serious attempt at gardening. There were successes and failures, but it is amazing how much quality food one can grow in a small residential lot. We were frankly getting a little tired of green beans, potatoes, and summer squash. Hopefully, this upcoming summer gives us a normal June and September weather wise.
I'm looking forward to 2011. I have a couple more trips to places I have always wanted to fish, along with more exploring of places I started learning last spring and summer.
Also for 2011, I hope we can all make time to send letters and attend meetings to speak for wild fish. I know I struggle to find the time, as it's easier to focus on fishing and life and ignore the fight that often seems as useful as pounding your head against the wall but wild fish are still just hanging on. It reminds me of one of my best days this past summer. I hooked four and landed two beautiful wild steelhead in about an hour and a half of fishing time. Going by fishing results, I was fishing over a huge run of steelhead. But this river now has a run of wild summer runs that might be 100 fish. I'll remind myself of that every time I hear people talk about great fishing. The trend is still going down, no matter how hard so many seem to be working at catching the last one.
Happy New Year!
The year started with a big move back to Washington State. The job situation didn't work out as expected, but being able to deal with unexpected issues and make changes is just part of life.
Summer was a blast. Lots of hiking and exploring. Checked out two fisheries I had always wanted to fish when I lived here previously. The true lesson is do not put off taking advantage of opportunities, and I know that I will strap on the pack and hit both of those fisheries again next summer. One highlight of the summer was one of the most visual skating dry fly takes I have ever seen. I can still picture the fly skating two feet in front of the exposed boulder and the fish coming up and exploding on the fly.
Summer also brought a couple trips back to the great big blue, the Pacific Ocean off of Neah Bay. This past summer wasn't the best year for salmon off the coast, but a good time was had and a few fish were caught. Next year I hope the silver runs increase and I can get out there and chase some on the cast fly.
This past year also marked my first serious attempt at gardening. There were successes and failures, but it is amazing how much quality food one can grow in a small residential lot. We were frankly getting a little tired of green beans, potatoes, and summer squash. Hopefully, this upcoming summer gives us a normal June and September weather wise.
I'm looking forward to 2011. I have a couple more trips to places I have always wanted to fish, along with more exploring of places I started learning last spring and summer.
Also for 2011, I hope we can all make time to send letters and attend meetings to speak for wild fish. I know I struggle to find the time, as it's easier to focus on fishing and life and ignore the fight that often seems as useful as pounding your head against the wall but wild fish are still just hanging on. It reminds me of one of my best days this past summer. I hooked four and landed two beautiful wild steelhead in about an hour and a half of fishing time. Going by fishing results, I was fishing over a huge run of steelhead. But this river now has a run of wild summer runs that might be 100 fish. I'll remind myself of that every time I hear people talk about great fishing. The trend is still going down, no matter how hard so many seem to be working at catching the last one.
Happy New Year!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Respect the Pineapple
Some pics WSDOT took of the bridge at the mouth of the Sol Duc. Also noticed a tree across the river just above the first bridge across the Sol Duc (coming from Forks). Be careful out there, especially as the bigger rivers drop into fishable shape.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Apathy
I had a chance to go to the WDFW Director's roundtable in Aberdeen last night. It was a great opportunity to learn about the budget issues effecting the department and talk directly to Phil Anderson, the Director of WDFW. Along with the director, there were numerous staff members there to respond to questions. The director discussed the budget and seemed eager to hear from the public about any ideas to save money and fishing and hunting problems. It was a full house with a great question and answer period with Phil Anderson.
While it was a full house there is a certain segment of the fishing community completely absent from these meetings. There were very few young people present. I am 38 years old and felt like a young kid at this forum. During the numerous questions, there were only two other questions besides mine that specifically dealt with protecting wild fish. Where are the wild fish advocates? Where are all the passionate anglers that post enthusiastically on internet fishing boards about catch and release and protecting wild steelhead?
Yes, the meeting wasn't in a large Puget Sound city, but Aberdeen is one hour from Olympia. It's not that far to speak to the head of the agency and meet and learn from area biologists and fish program managers.
When you wonder why WDFW continues to use old ideas in their management, look to who goes to these meetings and speaks to the decision makers.
While it was a full house there is a certain segment of the fishing community completely absent from these meetings. There were very few young people present. I am 38 years old and felt like a young kid at this forum. During the numerous questions, there were only two other questions besides mine that specifically dealt with protecting wild fish. Where are the wild fish advocates? Where are all the passionate anglers that post enthusiastically on internet fishing boards about catch and release and protecting wild steelhead?
Yes, the meeting wasn't in a large Puget Sound city, but Aberdeen is one hour from Olympia. It's not that far to speak to the head of the agency and meet and learn from area biologists and fish program managers.
When you wonder why WDFW continues to use old ideas in their management, look to who goes to these meetings and speaks to the decision makers.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
It Begins
It's that time of year, where chrome bright winter steelhead start moving up the rivers. The first part of the run is now mostly hatchery fish, but there are still a few resilient early natives mixed in. Yesterday I met one.
It was a classic NW Winter day. Low cloud cover, mid-40's temperature, and drizzle where the green of the forests is almost washed away by the oppressive gray pushing down from the sky. The river was dirty with about one to two feet of visibility, adding another surface of gray to the pallet. I worked my way downstream floating and fishing. I arrive at the run I wanted to focus on and start fishing. The fly is swinging well and about twenty casts into the run I feel a grab, and then nothing. The grab always feels like lightning going through your veins, but the lack of connection is always disappointing. This time of year, the question with a large grab is "what was that?" Was it a king, coho, or steelhead? A question I will never know.
I continued to work down the run as the current mellowed the fly started ticking the bottom and hanging up occasionally. The answer was a lighter tip, so I looped on five feet of T-14 and continued to fish. Then a swing was interrupted once a again by a pull. My mind quickly shifts back to fishing from gazing at the bald eagle squawking on the tall river side tree. I feel a second pull, then feel line start coming off my reel, and then come tight to a fish. Instantly the fish is running. I look towards the line streaming downstream and see white, the color of backing. Then a jump, and all I can see is a distant flash of silver in the air. I start moving down the gravel bar gaining back some of the line. This fish is strong and feels heavier than the fish I saw jump. I wonder if I have foul hooked a salmon because of the heavy feel. But I can gain line easily when the fish stops so that thought passes. Another couple fast runs and one of my favorite types of jumps happens. The fish jumps ten feet to the side of where your line enters the river. I work the fish quickly towards the beach. As I get it in the shallows I see that it is a steelhead with a big fat adipose fin and any thoughts of being foul hooked are gone when I see the fly lodged in the fish's mouth. I quickly grab the leader and tail this magnificent twelve pound hen as the hook falls out. I take a quick look at the perfectly clean fins and release my grip. She quickly charges off back into the gray water. After the release I am struck by this fish. The power and speed combined to make this one of the hottest fish I have ever hooked, including fish on rivers notorious for their hot steelhead.
I fished for a few more hours with the only other grab was a small bull trout, but I am struck by what a rare experience I had today. Early run native winter steelhead were historically much more abundant than they currently are. Decades of hatchery plants along with non-selective harvest have made this segment of the steelhead population a rarity. The fact that native fish continue to hold on in the face of everything we can throw at them amazes me. Sometime we fishermen get to see and hold a trace of the past, but far too often we are only left with the stories from old timers of what it used to be like. At least for today those are not just stories.
It was a classic NW Winter day. Low cloud cover, mid-40's temperature, and drizzle where the green of the forests is almost washed away by the oppressive gray pushing down from the sky. The river was dirty with about one to two feet of visibility, adding another surface of gray to the pallet. I worked my way downstream floating and fishing. I arrive at the run I wanted to focus on and start fishing. The fly is swinging well and about twenty casts into the run I feel a grab, and then nothing. The grab always feels like lightning going through your veins, but the lack of connection is always disappointing. This time of year, the question with a large grab is "what was that?" Was it a king, coho, or steelhead? A question I will never know.
I continued to work down the run as the current mellowed the fly started ticking the bottom and hanging up occasionally. The answer was a lighter tip, so I looped on five feet of T-14 and continued to fish. Then a swing was interrupted once a again by a pull. My mind quickly shifts back to fishing from gazing at the bald eagle squawking on the tall river side tree. I feel a second pull, then feel line start coming off my reel, and then come tight to a fish. Instantly the fish is running. I look towards the line streaming downstream and see white, the color of backing. Then a jump, and all I can see is a distant flash of silver in the air. I start moving down the gravel bar gaining back some of the line. This fish is strong and feels heavier than the fish I saw jump. I wonder if I have foul hooked a salmon because of the heavy feel. But I can gain line easily when the fish stops so that thought passes. Another couple fast runs and one of my favorite types of jumps happens. The fish jumps ten feet to the side of where your line enters the river. I work the fish quickly towards the beach. As I get it in the shallows I see that it is a steelhead with a big fat adipose fin and any thoughts of being foul hooked are gone when I see the fly lodged in the fish's mouth. I quickly grab the leader and tail this magnificent twelve pound hen as the hook falls out. I take a quick look at the perfectly clean fins and release my grip. She quickly charges off back into the gray water. After the release I am struck by this fish. The power and speed combined to make this one of the hottest fish I have ever hooked, including fish on rivers notorious for their hot steelhead.
I fished for a few more hours with the only other grab was a small bull trout, but I am struck by what a rare experience I had today. Early run native winter steelhead were historically much more abundant than they currently are. Decades of hatchery plants along with non-selective harvest have made this segment of the steelhead population a rarity. The fact that native fish continue to hold on in the face of everything we can throw at them amazes me. Sometime we fishermen get to see and hold a trace of the past, but far too often we are only left with the stories from old timers of what it used to be like. At least for today those are not just stories.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The Last Days
This summer seems to be winding down. It's been a great summer to return to the Pacific Northwest after a long absence. Coming from the brown desert to the lush green of the Olympic Peninsula has been fantastic. Getting back to coastal fishing has been a blast. It seems like I've fished far less but every trip has been savored. I almost forgot about the diversity available here. From ocean salmon fishing, rainforest steelhead, sea-run cutthroat and resident rainbows it has been a summer to remember. It's been great to run into a few native fish, especially the native summer runs. I missed that connection to the past while chasing browns in the Rockies. I know soon the rivers will be filled with runoff, salmon and then the beginning of the winter steelhead run.
Not only has this summer been good to me in the fishing department, but growing a garden has only added to the connection I feel to this place. We've been enjoying fresh food for a couple months now, but one can also sense the change of seasons in the garden, although it feels like a quicker end. We'll soon be planting overwintering crops and flower bulbs awaiting the first warmth of spring to give us a colorful reminder of another summer to come.
A couple days coming up to fish and the question is one that confuses all fall fishermen in the northwest. What the hell do I fish for? I think it may be an all of the above trip.
Not only has this summer been good to me in the fishing department, but growing a garden has only added to the connection I feel to this place. We've been enjoying fresh food for a couple months now, but one can also sense the change of seasons in the garden, although it feels like a quicker end. We'll soon be planting overwintering crops and flower bulbs awaiting the first warmth of spring to give us a colorful reminder of another summer to come.
A couple days coming up to fish and the question is one that confuses all fall fishermen in the northwest. What the hell do I fish for? I think it may be an all of the above trip.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Freak Out
The drift started uneventfully, worked my way down river stopping and swinging through one run in the cold morning shade. That was interesting. The rod, guides, and reel froze up quickly making working a good length of line with a short head pretty difficult. No fish, so I kept moving downstream. As I approached a drift boat plugging a tailout I saw them jump up as a steelhead took their plug. "Not a bad sign," I thought as a drifted past into the next run.
The next run already had anglers from boats in it, but they were focused on the lower end and drift fishing. I walked down to one of the anglers and asked if I could work the head of the run, further upstream. "No problem," was the response I was hoping for so I walked back to the raft, grabbed my rod and stepped into the water. I flipped my line out and thought my fly looked funny. I grabbed it and realized it was frozen solid... it was more number 2 pencil than a fluffy intruder-ish type fly. I warmed it up and started working my line out swinging the fly through the water. I was about to start stepping downstream after working my line out when I felt that pull. The cold probably slowed my reactions down as line started coming off the reel... but quickly the frozen thoughts warmed up and I went crazy. I lurched back on the rod like I was going to set the hook on a tarpon. I picture myself with my back angled 45 degrees from my hips pulling the rod backwards. Of course, I'm gonna blame the loss of the fish on a dull hook, a grab closer to the hangdown, or something other than the fact that I went beserk after months away from steelheading and then a massive slump since moving back to the Northwest fishing interior rivers enjoying record runs of steelhead. I'm sure a muttered a foul word or two before getting back to business and working this run twice before drifting further downstream.
I didn't encounter any other fish that day, but I swung some beautiful water and tried some water types I might have passed over on previous trips with the hope that come warmer temps and warmer seasons (spring) some native fish might be resting just primed to jump all over a swung fly.
Hope to get back soon and find my steelhead slump-buster. Hope these pictures get you thinking about swinging flies through emerald green glacial streams for your slump-buster, however long or short the slump is.
The next run already had anglers from boats in it, but they were focused on the lower end and drift fishing. I walked down to one of the anglers and asked if I could work the head of the run, further upstream. "No problem," was the response I was hoping for so I walked back to the raft, grabbed my rod and stepped into the water. I flipped my line out and thought my fly looked funny. I grabbed it and realized it was frozen solid... it was more number 2 pencil than a fluffy intruder-ish type fly. I warmed it up and started working my line out swinging the fly through the water. I was about to start stepping downstream after working my line out when I felt that pull. The cold probably slowed my reactions down as line started coming off the reel... but quickly the frozen thoughts warmed up and I went crazy. I lurched back on the rod like I was going to set the hook on a tarpon. I picture myself with my back angled 45 degrees from my hips pulling the rod backwards. Of course, I'm gonna blame the loss of the fish on a dull hook, a grab closer to the hangdown, or something other than the fact that I went beserk after months away from steelheading and then a massive slump since moving back to the Northwest fishing interior rivers enjoying record runs of steelhead. I'm sure a muttered a foul word or two before getting back to business and working this run twice before drifting further downstream.
I didn't encounter any other fish that day, but I swung some beautiful water and tried some water types I might have passed over on previous trips with the hope that come warmer temps and warmer seasons (spring) some native fish might be resting just primed to jump all over a swung fly.
Hope to get back soon and find my steelhead slump-buster. Hope these pictures get you thinking about swinging flies through emerald green glacial streams for your slump-buster, however long or short the slump is.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
How things have changed
Found this passage while re-reading Steelhead Paradise
"Tackle...
At the other extreme, I have a strong prejudice against the huge, two handed rods still widely used by British fishermen. I have found them very clumsy to handle, and not necessary on any streams I have ever fished either for steelhead or Atlantic salmon. My friend, Al Swinnerton of San Francisco, advised me that the Alta in Norway is just such a river. The swiftness of the current, the huge wet flies used, and the large size of the salmon all combine to dictate the use of unusually large and powerful tackle. It is only under such a set of circumstances, however, that I would concede the desirability of employing these old-fashioned 'telegraph poles.'"
My, how things have changed. Now, these old-fashioned "telegraph poles" are standard equipement on almost all steelhead rivers... of course they really are not telephone poles any more with the shorter and lighter weight spey rods. I know I really enjoyed fishing a 5/6 Loomis Metolius this fall. It held up throwing relatively large flies with tips on both the Deschutes and a Lake Erie trib. The trout I caught still were enjoyable and I didn't feel overgunned on the one bright lake-run steelhead I briefly hooked.
Hopefully, I'll still remember how to cast an old-fashioned "pencil" on smaller waters and the salt.
"Tackle...
At the other extreme, I have a strong prejudice against the huge, two handed rods still widely used by British fishermen. I have found them very clumsy to handle, and not necessary on any streams I have ever fished either for steelhead or Atlantic salmon. My friend, Al Swinnerton of San Francisco, advised me that the Alta in Norway is just such a river. The swiftness of the current, the huge wet flies used, and the large size of the salmon all combine to dictate the use of unusually large and powerful tackle. It is only under such a set of circumstances, however, that I would concede the desirability of employing these old-fashioned 'telegraph poles.'"
My, how things have changed. Now, these old-fashioned "telegraph poles" are standard equipement on almost all steelhead rivers... of course they really are not telephone poles any more with the shorter and lighter weight spey rods. I know I really enjoyed fishing a 5/6 Loomis Metolius this fall. It held up throwing relatively large flies with tips on both the Deschutes and a Lake Erie trib. The trout I caught still were enjoyable and I didn't feel overgunned on the one bright lake-run steelhead I briefly hooked.
Hopefully, I'll still remember how to cast an old-fashioned "pencil" on smaller waters and the salt.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Feels Just Right
Finally have put stakes back down in the Pacific Northwest. It just feels right to be back after a long absence (September 2005).
It's always interesting how people determine what defines "home." For me, it seems the draw has always been the place, and the Pacific Northwest just feels right. After 15 years of living in one area, I guess it's normal to feel connected to the area. 4 years away does little to make that feeling go away. Of course, Central Oregon is different from Western Washington but a desert river with steelhead, salmon, and native trout beats a desert river with foreign brown trout. While the NW fisheries have been so damaged by hatcheries, one can still find native fish in their proper place, not just found in a few high mountain lakes and streams.
I look forward to exploring new areas and of course spending some time relearning fly fishing for steelhead. My few trips so far have been a lot of fun, of course without touching any steelhead. The lack of fish has not been without rewards though. The smells and sounds of the river are always a treat. From the juniper and sage along the river trail to the odor of rotting salmon resting along the river bank after hopefully having a successful spawn to create the next generation.
I've been watching the river flows for my favorite coastal river, and it looks like anything I learned about the river last February will be worthless, as the massive flows will wipe the slate clean and make each trip this winter a scouting trip. What's strange is that this is exactly what I love most about this stream and I look forward to tromping through the tangle of stream side brush with the ground covered with a new layer of glacial mud.
This blog will serve as a sounding board for me. I will post about fishing, tying, conservation, and basically any random thing I feel like.
It's always interesting how people determine what defines "home." For me, it seems the draw has always been the place, and the Pacific Northwest just feels right. After 15 years of living in one area, I guess it's normal to feel connected to the area. 4 years away does little to make that feeling go away. Of course, Central Oregon is different from Western Washington but a desert river with steelhead, salmon, and native trout beats a desert river with foreign brown trout. While the NW fisheries have been so damaged by hatcheries, one can still find native fish in their proper place, not just found in a few high mountain lakes and streams.
I look forward to exploring new areas and of course spending some time relearning fly fishing for steelhead. My few trips so far have been a lot of fun, of course without touching any steelhead. The lack of fish has not been without rewards though. The smells and sounds of the river are always a treat. From the juniper and sage along the river trail to the odor of rotting salmon resting along the river bank after hopefully having a successful spawn to create the next generation.
I've been watching the river flows for my favorite coastal river, and it looks like anything I learned about the river last February will be worthless, as the massive flows will wipe the slate clean and make each trip this winter a scouting trip. What's strange is that this is exactly what I love most about this stream and I look forward to tromping through the tangle of stream side brush with the ground covered with a new layer of glacial mud.
This blog will serve as a sounding board for me. I will post about fishing, tying, conservation, and basically any random thing I feel like.
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