Inevitability

 

With the poor steelhead returns in recent years, the odds of encountering a surface friendly player can seem like a near impossibility as I ply my favorite steelhead waters time and time again. 2020 was my worst dry fly steelhead year to date, with just a small handful of steelhead risen and hooked, and none landed.  I went the entire 2020/2021 winter season with nary a grab nor a rise.  As I write this,  the 2021 summer returns appear to be a bust as well, at least on my local waters

The current downward trend in steelhead returns appears to have begun in 2015, when the run size was only about 15% of average on my homewater.  With the exception of the 2016 season,  summer steelhead returns have been down significantly. 

So what's a dedicated dry fly steelheader to do in the midst of all the doom and gloom?  As for me, I continue making regular trips to steelhead rivers, regardless of the lack chrome feedback. Casting and swinging through favorite runs is always worth doing for its own sake. Even after prolonged periods of unanswered casts, I still feel that juicy anticipation as my waker swings over familiar holding lies or through areas with features that my instincts have taught me could give up a crushing rise.

I was recently corresponding with Bill McMillan about the low returns we have been having over the past several years. Thankfully,  Bill was encouraging optimism:  he recalled a period of low returns in the early nineties and then came a rebounding trend in the later nineties.  Bill's words reminded me of the resiliency of steelhead and optimism coming from Bill, who has studied steelhead for most of his life, restored hope within me as well.

I know that many folks won't bother fishing for steelhead if the odds of hooking one is poor.  I am actually thankful for those who are mainly concerned with actually catching fish, because low returns gives me much needed peace and quiet on the river.  The solitude renews my soul.

I just recently engaged in a discussion on Speypages regarding the question of why we continue doing what we do, presumably in the context of the new normal of low returns.  That question made be realize how all encompassing dry fly steelheading is in my life.  I have a cycle where I love tying steelhead dry flies and I am abundantly blessed that there are people who value my flies enough to purchase them from me.  This allows me to maintain a stash of mad money, which in turn allows me to purchase some new equipment every year.  New equipment leads to constant tinkering with gear and every new setup I obtain requires tweaks in my casting technique.  Seeking a pleasant rhythm of consistency with my casting is a constant pursuit when I am out on the river.  This ever evolving cycle keeps me totally immersed in dry fly steelheading where I always have something that is keeping me engaged in various aspects of the pursuit.  In the end, the whole process is so enjoyable in and of itself, that the lack of steelhead feedback does not ever prevent me from seeking regular river time.

I suppose as I continually participate in this dim witted endeavor, I have come to mentally count on "Inevitablity".  That is, the warped thought process that says if you continue to fish a dry fly for steelhead you will eventually come across a steelhead that is dumb enough to rise up and crush your fly.  Nevermind that numbers are as low as they have ever been, that even the gear guys haven't been getting them and no one else is mentally unstable enough to bother fishing for them.  Oh, and it's been over nineteen months since I landed one on a dry fly.

On July 11, 2021, I hit a local steelhead run as I often do through the course of the summer season.  It was a morning like any other:  I arrived in the early glow of dawn where it takes some time for there to be enough light to see my surface fly with consistency.  It is for this reason that I choose to start my morning's fishing in a run that flows smoother and slower where it is easier to visibly track my fly in low light.  I fished through this greasy run with my typical anticipation especially in the areas where rising steelhead have been encountered in seasons past.  As usual, no risers in this water.

By the time I completed fishing that first run, there was enough light to more easily see my fly in the morning shade so I headed to another run with more chop.  I started higher than I normally do, just out of impulse.  As mentioned about new equipment, I recently acquired a beautiful Flywerks Quantum 16' 7" 7wt made by Steve Godshall and a modern Hardy 4 1/4" LHW Perfect.  Not surprisingly, I want to fish this dreamy combo at every opportunity.  Anyway, I must have figured that with the longer casts that I make with the giant rod and 65' Ballistic Vector XL line, that starting higher in the run would allow me to cover the upper parts of the run with a longer cast.  

I had extended casts until I got the head and 5 strips of running line out as I made the distance I was satisfied with for this water, about 110'.  I then started stepping down the run with each successive swing.  When I was just a few steps down from where I started, I watched my black "bivisi bomber" as it came to the edge of some choppy water closer to shore.  I had been wondering if the high water of recent winters had filled in the areas near shore where steelhead held consistently in the past.   Just as I pondered my uncertainty with the water I was fishing, a sudden explosion came to my fly and my line drew tight instantly.  (Gotta love steelhead surface attacks like this where a guy can do no wrong!)  The steelhead quickly put a satisfying bend in the long rod as it took off on a run and then leaped clear of the water.  I could see the perfect form of a moderately sized steelhead in the arc of it's jump.  A few more runs and jumps ensued until I was able to draw the stubborn steelhead close enough for me to draw the long rod up and over me where I could get a hold of the leader.

I led the spunky hatchery buck into some quiet water near the bank and was able to get some photos before I dispatched it by slicing it's gills to allow it to bleed while I entered my catch on my electronic harvest tag and then went back to fishing for a few more minutes.

Not surprisingly, there was no companion steelhead in the area that would rise to my fly so I had likely found the lone needle in the haystack.  I mused over how the surface attack and fight of  a steelhead just never gets old.  The mechanics of wrestling with a steelhead on a two handed rod came back to me readily, even with my long dry spell.  

Before leaving for home, I grabbed my folding knife out of my wader chest pocket and went to work gutting my steelhead.  Being in sight of passing traffic in the distance,  I made sure to nestle against backside vegetation with my back facing any public eyes to conceal my activity.   I then walked back to my rig, holding the steelhead along my side in hopes obstructing it from view.  No one was at the parking area so I placed the steelhead on the ground at the back my rig while I tore down my rod.  

Just as I was prepared to leave, an older gentle man pulled in. I couldn't tell if he was a fisherman,  but to play it safe,  I kept my back to him as I grabbed the steelhead and threw it in the back of my rig.  Turns out, this guy was a fisherman who lives close by but just realized that this was an area people fished.  He asked if I had done any good and I automatically replied "nope", then immediately felt ashamed of lying to a stranger.   

I just get a crazy sense of cageyness when I have found dry fly steelhead success while having the river all to myself, with no one else fishing due to the dismal returns.  I have even been known to disengage the clicker on my reels to remain incognito when other anglers are around in hopes of quelling the racket of any hooked steelhead I am lucky to encounter.   Engaging in this quirky behavior involves securing the reel handle with a rubber band to the rod.  I have had steelhead break the rubber band on it's initial run as I then fumble with a free spooling reel.

Of course, even with my good fortune of finding this dry fly steelhead, I fully realize that such encounters will be few and far between this season and I'm good with that - I trust in the inevitability that if I just keep trying, I will find another one.......