Swing Flies for Six Days....

...on the seventh day--grab the gear rod...

...and pick up the biggest steelhead of my life thus far...



I got my butt kicked swinging flies then headed out to fish with my good buddy Stam. I thought with some convincing we might be able to pressure him into picking up the fly rod, maybe maybe if only for thirty minutes.... just a bit of peer pressure......maybe.

Justin and Justin (Justin squared) took off ahead of us searching for holy water while we ran shuttle and attempted to rationalize such a late start in between Sasquatch discussions....

We were all up before 5, ordering breakfast at 6, eating at 7:30? wtf.
wtf.

The water was gin clear. Confidence had slipped down to some lower hole, because it certainly did not sit up here. Water had come in and disappeared as if it were January 2009...oh wait, did we even get water then? hmmm.....

Checking out the Sage 290 gear rod, I flicked it out and damn if I didn't feel every rock along that river.......unfortunately I could see them too, so I lost hope there. Couple that with rock scraping fish waking madness as we dragged the boat and, well.., confidence?

I picked up a float rod, 'Viento", as we met a confluence and began fishing it thoroughly. Realizing how at home I was tossing the gear rod and letting line run the seams I was working smoother than my nymph rod....I kept the switch rod in its wrap up. I mended Power Pro a few times out of habit, surprised at its ability to mend. You know how I know you're...never mind.

I was fishing gear better than I ever had, and was feeling great about it. Floating along hitting the good water, my buddy chiming in with the hell yeahs when I rocked it and the full on bashing of my ego when I blew it, I was in near tears having such a good time.

Finally floating into a beautiful corner where we were ready to disembark from the boat and work it through, Justin squared corked us and fished through our beauty water before we could even yell obscenities...

Without discouragement, I fished into the lower section of the run as Stam worked the upper portion. Having not yet felt like I had fully covered it as he pulled the boat up to my feet, Stam basically told me to get in the boat or miss my float.

I had just taken a pathetic cast and said, "That's not where I want to be" as I stepped into the boat. Sarcastically he said, "Oh, you would rather be at work?" We cackled at that idea as I threw my next cast precisely where I intended: on the outer edge of the soft seam...a kill shot. One of those impressive inner hell yeahs you give yourself when you feel you have fished a run well and thoroughly, then throw one last cast in to seal the deal.

It was not 8 feet later, nor a push off the rocks for the rower before my float went DUNK! down. I was in shock as line peeled off my reel.

A fish splashed on the surface at the end of my line! He bulldogged around, wallowing in the far trench, he splashed on the surface again sending me into the confluence of feeling and seeing 'oh wow, that's a big one'...working himself into the inner trench down below me, this fish bulldogged some more... intently swam towards me and made it right up to the bow of the boat when Net Man Stam dipped in for a superior netting job from the tail. It was perfect. I couldn't speak, he was a HUGE fish.

I realized at that moment that I brought that beast in on a barbless hook and I think I was dumbfounded. Star struck.

To attempt to describe the sheer power of that Steelhead I got to hold in my hands fails me. Maybe one day soon I may put that into words.
He had been through much to hit the jig I put in front of him and I am, well....... in awe.

Thanks.

-k8