I strangely started to get used to coming straight home from work, with no fishing to be had. Wendi was getting too accustomed to seeing me at home so much,. It was not like me to be passing up so much fishing time.
As the cooling weather of fall has come upon us, there has actually been some steelhead starting to come over the falls since late August/early September. A small bit of hope was restored in me and I started getting out on evening sessions after work - I felt normal again. Water temps have come down to the mid 60's, still a bit warm, but good enough to hope for some hatchery surface action.
My trips out have been typically unsuccessful, but I keep trying anyway, of course with a skater on the end of my line. My crazy theory is: "most normal people adjust their methods to suit prevailing conditions, but with me, I prevail until conditions adjust to suit my method!!"
Yesterday evening was a typical opportunistic jaunt to a local run after work. Wendi was working late so I didn't feel too bad about shirking responsibilities at home. As I drove off from work, I contemplated over which local run to fish. Since I hadn't really been getting any fish in any of them it would not really make much difference where I ended up fishing.
I figured I'd just hit the particular run that was most consistent at holding fish last year. My thought process was that if any fish were around at all, this run would be the best barometer of such.
I started at the top of the run as I usually do, even though it is shallower in this year's lower flow. I continued on through and thought that if I got done with this run early enough, I'd hit another one that I had not fished in awhile.
As I got to the lower section of the run, I was tracing the swing of my chartruese "stinger wang" foam skater. The upright umm... indicator post was pretty visible in the softening flows of the bottom of the run in the pleasant evening glow. As the fly was swinging through the soft transition from the main flow into the inside seam, my "internal dialogue" was going even with my long, long stretch of going without surface grabs. Whenever I swing through juicy water I find the self-talk happening. I was muttering stuff like "come on, eat that fly...gotta be a fish there....come on you dumb fish, etc", then as if in response to my utterings, slurp, fish on!
The rise was a rather subtle gulp, but I think after enough time spent chasing surface steel, I immediately knew it was a steelhead, just by the appearance of the rise. It seemed that the stinger hook on my skater took immediate hold of this fish. The line came tight and a few headshakes followed, then the steelhead swam towards me and I hurriedly recovered line to keep up with the fish. It's times like this when I am glad that I switched to reeling with my right hand several years ago.
As I got tight to the steelhead, I was nearly to the point of having the leader butt at the tip of the rod, then of course Ms. Steelhead decides to utilize her short game fighting tactics with some near shore tug of war going back and forth. Knowing this was a hatchery steelhead, I backed myself up the bank and beached her. I was overcome with feeling blessed by this rare, if imperfect and unlikely prize. With the small numbers of steelhead around, it felt like finding a needle in a haystack.
|Chartruese Stinger Wang does the trick|
|A Rare Prize|