Scotch Ale, Rainbows, and the Legacy of Ed Muskie

By Alan Yuodsnukis

An advance warning: if you are disturbed, upset, easily offended, or just bored by fishing reports that have no photos of actual fish, skip this post.  No gratuitous fish porn here. (After losing almost $600 in camera gear to two separate wading "accidents," I admitted defeat some years ago.)  There are, however, allusions to certain adult situations that may make some viewers uncomfortable.  There is also some bass fishing involved.  So stop here if you think there is any possibility that your head may explode if you read further.

For the past year or so, I have been on an old school fly tying jag.  By old, I mean 19th century, pre-Irish invasion, Scottish salmon stuff native to the Spey and Dee valleys.  This lovely Lady, in particular has been an inspiration,



along with these guys:



Unfortunately, I don't live on a Scottish salmon river.  And I'll never have the means to fish one.  But I do have access to rivers that are full of wild, hard pulling, acrobatic fish that will slam a swung fly and, lucky for me, are largely ignored.  Those fish eat a lot of these:



I've been looking for a pattern that looks (kind of) like those things, but also (kind of) like my favorite Scottish Lady. But everything I tied looked like this:




But, one day after a little inspiration from a different Scottish friend,


this came out of my vise:



She introduced herself as the Lady McEwen and said she wanted to go for a swim. So I took her (and a few of her sisters and friends).

I tied her to a short leader and tied that to a fast sinking Skagit head and let her swim through the top of a favorite run. She didn't find any fish, but while I watched her swim, I did see a good one make that beautiful, deliberate, I'm-the-baddest-thing-in-this-river-so-I can-eat-slowly-if-I-want-to, head to dorsal roll just below us.  That's almost always the sign of a good fish, and sometimes, a VERY good fish.  Little guys will splash and slash.  But the bruisers often eat with a delicacy that belies their size.  They don't get big by wasting energy. I stepped down, swung the Lady again...and didn't get a bump.  But I saw Mr. Big do his thing again.

Change of plan.  Time for a  floating head and a waker.  I do love Speys and everything about them, but if there are fish showing on top, I become an unapologetic dry fly trollop.  (As one fly fishing writer put it, "Fishing dry is our sport's equivalent to doin' it with the lights on.")  What can I say?  The flesh is weak.  I gave the Lady a rest, rejoined the 21st century, and tied on her crazy American friend, the Flying Circus:



On the first swing, just before the end of the arc, there was a boil and a splash ever so slightly behind the fly.  Now, I'm not one of those super-human lords of self discipline who normally has the ability not to strike when that happens.  Had I been fishing any other way, I would have pulled the fly straight away from the fish, hooked nothing, sworn like a drunken pirate, and hoped for a comeback on the next swing.  But I learned from a steelheading friend that it's a good idea to leave a short loop of slack between your top hand and the reel.  When a fish takes, drop the loop.  This gives the fish an instant to turn with the fly, so that when you do bring the line tight, you get a solid hook set in the corner of the jaw.  Or at least that's how it should work.  Anyway, I actually remembered to drop the loop.  The fly paused, slid backwards with the current for half a heartbeat, and then it was gone in a splash.  Fish on (yes!), but probably not Mr. Big.  The hit was too showy.  The pull was decent, but not powerful, and I thought probably from a middling size bass.  Turned out to be an 18 inch chub.

Mr. Big was still out there, then. Keep hunting. Step down, cast, swing. "Be there...right there....." Nada.  This time, two steps down. Cast. Swing.  At the risk of sounding hopelessly corny, moments like that remind me that fishing is like the rest of life.  There is the way you want things to happen, and then there is the way they actually happen.  Often enough, they aren't the same.  But half way through the swing, like it had been scripted and shot in slow motion, Mr. Big's head rose up in front of the fly, the fly slid into his mouth like a car going into a tunnel (really - that's what it looked like), a spiny dorsal followed the head, and the water was flat again.  Honest, if I hadn't had my eyes glued to the fly, I would have missed it.  Classic big smallmouth take.  The kind I see only a few times in a season.  I dropped the loop, came tight, and felt that immensely satisfying STOP that feels like a rock. But you know it isn't a rock, because you just saw a fish eat your fly.  There was a strong pull the other way, and the rod bent into a C.  And then nothing.  The fly bobbed back up to the surface.  A clean swing and a miss to end the inning. Crap.

I fished out the rest of the run and tailout with the waker, but came up empty.  At that point, the river gathers most of its volume and sends it in a fast, deep rush hard against the near bank.  Because of the powerful flow, the only thing left on the bank for the 100 yards or so where the river slams against it is a series of very large boulders and the trunks of blow downs either too big to be moved by the season's high water, or wedged too tightly among the boulders.  Any sand or smaller rocks that might make for good footing at the water's edge have long been washed away.  In fact, there is nothing to stand on below the water's edge; the boulders simply give way to more deep, fast water. It reminded me of the Niagara gorge, only with much, much warmer water.  Still, keep your feet dry, or you're going for a very fast, very wet ride. But it's nice looking water.  Just the kind of water where smallmouths will stack up among the rocks and food rich, oxygenated flow.

And man, was there food.  As I scrambled along on the boulders, I came across hundreds of stonefly nymph cases, countless caddis remains caught in spider webs, minnows schooling in the eddies, and the occasional crayfish darting away from my shadow.  At one point, two different species of mayfly settled on my vest and shirt.  What...wait...crayfish?  Too lazy to change the floating head back to the sinker, I clipped off the Flying Circus and put the Lady M back on.  I dropped her quartering upstream, flipped a couple of quick mends to sink her a bit, and then let her swim. She had just started to swing when there was a gentle pluck and that unmistakable pull and wiggle.  Chub number two, for sure.  Only that chub had spots and silvery flanks with just a bit of reddish blush.  A rainbow trout.  Not much of a fight on a 12 1/2 foot 6 weight, but a pleasant surprise.  From there to the end of the run where the river flow swings back out to the middle and then the far bank, more rainbows and a few middling bass grabbed the Lady on what seemed like every third swing.  All but that first trout came on the dangle or as I stripped the running line back in to make the next cast.  All but one of the bass came on the swing.  (Props to the bass for that .)

Those rainbows weren't noteworthy for their size - the biggest taped out at a shade over 16 inches - but rather, for their presence.  I caught them so close to a paper mill that I could hear the hum and clank of conveyors and tell management from rank-and-file by the color of their hardhats.  This mill is on the upper portion of a river that was once so foul, it was dangerous to wade. (Many people still think it is.  In a kind of twisted way, that's OK with me -  helps keep the riff-raff away.) In the late 60's and early 70's, there was more than one river like that in Maine, and many hundreds, perhaps thousands across the country.  That's when the good senator Edmund Muskie (D-Maine) drafted, pushed, prodded, and eventually passed through Congress the Clean Water Act.  So thanks largely to him, I don't have to go to Scotland, or Canada, or even northern Maine to find good sport with a swung fly.

The next one of these   is for you, Ed.

Willamette Steelhead Looking Up!

I recently took a trip to Skeena country and while I am still floating on a cloud from having a grand time there with two great friends, I managed not to get too spoiled from my dreamy week in BC (blog post on that trip still in the works).

Since returning from BC, I haven't missed a beat on my beloved homewater, the Middle Fork of the Willamette.  As noted in my prior post, I just started tying my skater in the purple/black color scheme and also since returning, I bought my third - yes third, Cabela's TLR switch, the 11' 7wt.  Why would I want yet another of these switch rods when I already had the 11' 6wt and 11'6" 7wt?  I'm not sure myself except to say these rods have totally got me buying into the utility of switch rods.  The 11' 7wt is obviously 6" shorter than the 11'6", but it has a markedly different feel to it - in my subjective descriptive terms, "lighter in hand, livelier".  Nonetheless, I love all three of these inexpensive jewels and am having a blast in the switch rod realm.

Of course, wanting to play with my new toy, I've been taking it and my new purple/black and black/blue skaters out on my homewater.  Thankfully, my homewater has been doing a great job of helping me come down from my high from my recent trip to Skeena country.  As noted on my prior post I got a 28" buck before work last thursday on the TLR switch and black/purple skater combo in my favorite bank fishing run a short drive from my home.  Some other surface steelhead successes have continued to follow and I have been enjoying the ride while it lasts!

I went on a short local float with Tony Torrence this past friday and in the first run, Tony and I split things up with me being dropped off at the top and Tony fishing mid to low.  As I got into the "armpit" or top inside corner at the head of the run, a little hen came up and gulped my black/blue skater in the chop made by the basketball sized rocks in the shallow water.  I brought this little gal to hand and she made her way to my cooler.

We fished a few more runs with no action, then we came to a nice run that comes around a bend.  Again, the dry fly guy gets the top and Tony probed the lower section with a skagit/tip.  I was tight to some bankside brush so I was working on crisp, cack handed single speys with a shallow D-loop to avoid snagging the obstructions behind me.  I got a bit frustrated when, despite carefully watching my D-loops, one of my short casts got tangled in some shoreline vegetation.  After uprooting some brush to get my fly loose, I went back to work.  After a few more casts, I had my Rage head and a couple strips of running line out.

It was midday by this time and the sun was high in the sky under bright, clear conditions.  I persisted with my new black/purple skater anyway, but I had to deal with the glare on the water and the sun in my face, making it literally impossible to see my fly on the water, no matter what color foam I would have tied to the top of my fly. 

I told myself that I'd "listen" for a rise, if indeed one were to come.  A few casts later, I got my wish.  I heard a quick splash at my fly and thought I was able to see a disturbance on the surface.  Before I could contemplate what had happened, my Hardy was screaming and a chrome form was seen leaping out of the water - a large chrome form!  I got the rod switched over to my left hand so I could start reeling against the fish with my right hand.  I made some headway after two more jumps and a few more blistering runs.  I worked my way to shore and eyed a little gravel bar that would make a convenient area to beach what was probably a mid teens hatchery buck.  As I got the beast close to shore, the hook pulled out............. 

My heart was pumping over the thrill of battling a creature possessing such power.  I think that as I get older, losing a grand fish at the bank is still never easy, but I find myself feeling more gratitude than disappointment in these instances.  After all, that steelhead gave me the thrill I was after, what more could I ask for?  Steelhead have truly blessed me beyond measure.  I cannot even begin to give back a fraction of what steelheading has given me.  Even though I would have loved to have gotten my hands on that fish, I don't need to subdue every hatchery steelhead I encounter.  The experience is much more precious than fillets in the freezer.

With what appears to be the making of some decent fall surface steelheading on my local ditch, I have become even more flakey and irresponsible than I normally am - neglecting things like housework, yard work, car repairs, cleaning the garage, etc., in frantic efforts to get on the water at any given opportunity.

This past sunday, I had a small window of time to fish before going to church to rehearse with the praise team.  I hit my favorite run at first light.  I started off with my purple/black skater, but I couldn't see it in the glare so I changed to a black/blue skater with orange and white visibility posts.  As I got to the bottom of the run, my skater came into the hang down and a steelhead gulped it down.  I came tight to the fish and after a minor tussle, I worked my way away from the bank to gain leverage on the fish.  I ended up with an average size hatchery hen that I managed to get pulled up on shore and as I went over to retrieve my prize, the steelhead gave a flop and got back into the river and took off.  No fish cleaning duty this time.

As I continue to shirk adult responsibilties, I squeezed in an evening session after work today.  I hurried to my reliable spot and again, down low in the run, my purple/black skater was approaching the bottom of the swing and I noticed a bulge behind my fly.  Just as my heightened senses deciphered the subtle sign, a quick, aggressive attack came to the fly and my Hardy Marquis was growling at that instant.  Apparently, the steelhead took the fly on the turn and the noisy reel even got the attention of Brad, who lives in the house on the banks of this run.  The steelhead took about 10-15' of line and just as I was figuring on how to transfer the rod to my left hand, the hook pulled out.

So as of now, I've hooked into 5 steelhead in the past 4 trips out to my local water.  Not bad for a guy who persistently skates flies over these hatchery steelhead.  I am a wild steelhead advocate, but gotta admit that these local hatchery summer runs provide at least a distant semblance of being on a BC river (adding some poetic imagination doesn't hurt).

I encourage anybody who fishes for these hatchery summer runs to give surface fishing a try.  The cooling conditions of fall make for the best surface steelheading of the whole year and the remainder of the fall season could be good.  Winter steelheading is right around the corner and I'll be fishing wet for most of that time so why fish wet now when my local steelhead are looking up!

 

New Skaters

I've recently been tying my Purely Functional Skater design (dubbed "Little Wang" by my fishing buds) in blue/black and purple/black recently.  I just started tying the blue/black right before heading to BC last week and a few BC steelhead seemed to like it (a future post is in the making on that wonderful trip). 

Since coming home from BC, I've also tried tying my skater in Black/Purple and a 28" hatchery buck gave his nod of approval during a short morning session before work today. 

Summer Days

As summer has progressed slowly into fall, I've been reflecting on some great times on the water.

In early August, I had a wonderful few days on the water with my good friend Keith Tymchuck.  Keith and his wife Jennifer and daughters Blair and Bailey spent several days camping along the North Umpqua.  Keith kindly saved a campspot for me and Wendi joined for a couple days as well.  I met up with Keith for the evening session on the day of my arrival and we fished each morning and evening for the next three days.

Keith reported that our friend Craig Coover went over and joined him the day before I arrived for an overnight stay.  Apparently Craig raised a steelhead at dark at one of our favorite runs.

Keith and I fished pools between the lower fly water on up to the Camp Water each day and got blanked for the first couple days.  On day three, we hit some new water that I was able to show Keith.  On one of these runs, sun was on the water so I put one of Mike Papais's wets on, the sunny rat.  About mid way down the run, I had a good pull, could not get it to come back.  Keith fished over the spot, still nothing.

On our last evening session, we started at a run new to us.  Keith showed me this spot and we really like it.  A good stretch with two nice runs.  I started at the shorter top run, fished through then got into the second run and fished short casts on the near side of the chop.  As I started getting into the heart of the run,  a steelhead came up with a quick gulp and fish on.  This is a tough spot for landing fish with no gravel bar or sloping bank.  I got a good  scrap from this little hen, probably in the 4-5lb range.  I had her up to shore and was about to grab her tail and she was off, a perfect release.  We fished a few more spots to close out the eve with no further action.

The following day, we debated on whether to start at either of two favorite runs.  We gambled on going for one of them first then doubling back to the other, hoping to get both before they were occupied by other fisherman.  We did get the one run at first light and Keith went through first and I hit the pocket water above before going in behind Keith.  When I got to the first exposed rock, I put my cast right in front of it and the current pulled my skater downstream along the wake along the side of the rock.  A steel form appeared and casually gulped the skater.  The line came tight as the current pulled the belly against the fish.  I kept my rod still, waiting for the fish to turn after feeling the pointy thing it it's mouth......instead, I then felt the tension on the line being released as the fly somehow slid out of the fish's mouth - dang!!

I went back with a smaller skater and a small wet, nada.  Keith came up and fished over the spot, still nothing.  Oh well, it was a great thrill seeing that steelhead come up for the fly, it looked to be in the 9-10lb range.  Funny thing is, I just happened to be at an angle where I was able to see that fish come to to fly, but the actual rise was very subtle.  I wonder how often this happens on fish we don't see??

Keith and I then took off for the other run we were hoping to get - funny story here- we approach the pull off and see another SUV coming from the opposite direction.  Keith puts his left blinker on and pulls in.  Just then the SUV puts it's blinker on and pulls in as well.  Come to find out it's a couple guys I know who are friends of friends.  We ended up just telling them to take the run, but we were a bit disappointed at missing the opportunity to fish the run.  Oh well, no point in competing for water.

Keith and I then ended up closing out the morning's session at another run that is new to us.  Glad we did.  I had fished this water in full sunlight in the past, but it's a whole different deal with shadows on the water.  What a beautiful dry fly run!!  Starts off as a gentle riffle, then comes into nice bedrock structure in the lower end.  The flow is gentle enough that it is pretty much a self mender and my skater was easily visible most of the time.  I could see a shark attack coming at any moment.  Alas, no such thing happened, but Keith and I were thrilled that we discovered this beautiful piece of water that will be more fully explored on future trips.  This run reminds me of some runs on BC rivers.

All in all, a wonderful trip and Keith was kind enough to chauffer me around the whole time, plus he kindly held my campsite for me.  Wendi come over friday night so we got to visit with Keith and his wife Jennifer and daughters Bailey and Blair.  Our friend Mark Stangeland and his family came over to visit one of the days as well.  Mark said he's had a good season so far, hooked/landed a good number of  steelhead so far, lost a few more, and getting his clients into fish regularly as well.

 (An evening on the Willamette with Tony Torrence)

The surface bite on the Willamette had slowed down in August for some reason, hope that changes soon.  However, I took my son in law Shaun on a float on a sunday in late August and he hooked two steelhead on wets on a dryline.  One was on a #2 Yogi (Keith's fly) and the other was on a #2 peacock bodied green butt skunk given to me by a guy Stephan from Germany that I met in BC in 1999.  The one steelhead was brought to hand, then it slipped out of Shaun's hands, swam between his legs and broke off.

The other one got off due to Shaun's new Echo Ion reel jamming.  Shaun had also just bought one of the Cabela's TLR switches for $80, the 11'6" 7wt and broke it in nicely.  I also bought the same rod the week prior, so now I have two 80 dollar Cabela's rods.

In the latter part of August into September, I continued with trips to the North Umpqua, often on solo ventures.  During one of these trips,  I ended up going over on a  thursday evening.  I fished a favorite run until dark.  Right in the sweet spot, a steelie explodes at my skater and misses.  Same cast, nothing.  Changed to a smaller GB skater, shortened up a few strips and when I worked back out to the same cast  length, the fish explodes at the mini skater and misses again.  Same cast, no comeback.  I changed to one of Mike Papais's flies, the undertaker.  Shortened up and again, at an "8 strip" cast, I feel a good yank at the fly but no hookup.  I was bummed figuring that the fish either felt the hook on the grab or felt the resistance on the other end.  Ah well, I cast again and as the fly came out of the chop, yank,..... fish on.......  At first the fish kind of did some short runs and came right in and when it got in close, it started to get serious about putting up more resistance.  Just as I was starting to think about things like how I was going to beach the fish and imagining a photo of a steelhead with Mike's fly in it's mouth, the hook pulled out.  Turns out the steelhead actually bent the hook on Mike's fly!  I think Mike's fly was so juicy that the steelhead really chomped down hard on it. A bad word may have came out of my mouth, not sure, no one else was around, but I was actually happy that I encountered what I assumed was a steelhead within my first 20 minutes of the trip.

(Mike's Undertaker was so juicy, a steelhead chewed it up and bent the hook)

I grabbed a campspot since Wendi said she might come over friday eve.  It was nice to have a break from sleeping in my car.  I pitched my tent in the dark and cooked a quick gourmet dinner of a pair of brats.

The next day, I fished several favorite runs and discovered a couple new spots.  It seems exploring is sometimes worthwhile and gives a break from fishing the same old places.  Nice day, no fish.

The following morning, I made a quick couple passes through a favorite run before heading back to help at a church event.  No morning steel materialized.   I ended up doing some pruning work the day before during mid day.  I went back down to a favored run, tied my pruning saw to a stick and cut down and pulled down some of those annoying branches that keep catching our lines/rods when we forget to make a low, sidearm cast.  Folks may appreciate my manicuring next time down there.

On the day before leaving for my trip to BC, a morning's fishing proved uneventful, but with the longer shadows with fall approaching, I was still able to find a pool with a bit of shade remaining at noon.  I was daydreaming when I heard a rise as my fly come into the bottom half of it's swing.  Turns out the rise was to my fly!  A little hen was pulling against my vintage glass rod with my Green Butt foam skater in it's mouth.  I landed this little beauty and measured in at about 21".

Dry Line Contributors Wanted

Just thought to put an invitation out to anyone who has a dry line steelheading story or perspective to share to please feel free to let me know and I can set you up to be a contributor on this blog or I can copy/paste your story and pictures here as well.

I find it great fun to share fishing stories with others and to exchange ideas about dry line steelheading with folks who have the same specialized interest within the sport that draws us together.  After awhile, it probably gets old listening to the same crazy guy rambling on here so it would be great to add some variety and I'd be glad to see other folks posting stories here.

Chrome Report from Steve Turner

It's great to have a network of fishing buds that share the passion of seeking steelhead on the surface.  It's fun emailing back and forth sharing fishing stories and keeping the steelhead fever stoked.  My good friend Steve Turner recently emailed the following report and it was such a stellar fishing story that I thought it was too good not to share here.

Steve's email:

Mornin’ Gents,

Report from the D:  The fish are freaking stacked in the runs like sardines!! (Well, OK, that might be a wee bit of an overstatement, but there are most certainly some fish around!)

Charlie and I drove to the river in the pre-dawn only to find several rigs already parked and the best spots already staked out so we decided to head downriver and fish the water in the middle to lower sections of the run. I opted to start in above a gentleman who was fishing the middle run while Charlie continued further downriver and dropped in well below him.

I watched this fella go one for two in the heart of the run, and saw another single-hander directly across the river from us hook and land a fish just before he slipped, went for a short swim-about, then dragged himself to shore and headed back to his boat to dry out. Once the guy below me finished fishing his way through the run, he turned, gave a wave, wished me luck and headed out. 

I continued fishing my way down, swinging an Undertaker on a dry line until I arrived at the holding lie. I decided my best bet might be to show the fish something different, so I tied on Todd’s now infamous “Little Wang” - black with a green butt.

At the lower end of the bucket, just as the LWGB was sliding out of the chop and into the softer water, a huge bulge appeared behind the fly, then a gaping white maw absolutely crushed the poor little penile creature. It was one of those super-hot fish that went totally ballistic at the sting of the hook, melted line off the reel at an incredibly insane clip, then exploded way upriver in a hell-bent for destruction, end-over-end catapult while the fly line was still way downriver, making me wonder if it was even possible that this was the same fish I was currently doing battle with.

It was one of the best tussles I’ve had in quite some time! I was finally able to tire her enough to lead her into shallower water. I could see she was a beautiful wild hen and I didn’t want to chance harming her just for a picture, so I quickly snapped this shot just before tailing her, slipping the hook out and gently sending her back on her way. Really a special fish - nickel bright, super broad across the back and perfectly formed. Although the picture makes her look a bit smaller than she actually was (they always do, don’t they?! =), I’d guess she was pushing the 10lb mark, maybe even a touch heavier.

 

Charlie fished a Pom Skater through the lower sections and at one point had a steelie absolutely explode all over his fly, somehow miraculously managing NOT to impale itself on the hook in the process. Unfortunately, try though he might, he was unable to coax it back for a second go-around.

As I finished fishing my way through the run I noticed that a sled had somehow sneaked in and parked just above me (My hearing must be even worse than I thought). It turned out to be Tom Larimer and his camera  crew shooting some footage for an upcoming spey fishing video. Tom’s an old friend of both of ours and we had a nice visit with him and his crew, then we headed upriver to the uppermost run which had by this time been abandoned by it’s earlier occupants.

It was approaching noon and beginning to get really warm, but we decided to give it a quick go anyway, so we put tips on and divvied up the run with Charlie going up to the top and me starting in about mid-way down. I had neglected to throw my tube flies in the sling-pack (which is typically what I fish on tips) so for kicks I tried something really different and lashed a size 6 low-water Night Dancer onto six feet of 10 lb. Maxima and attached that to 10 feet of T-14, fully expecting never to see that fly again.

I’d made maybe half a dozen casts and had just reached the full length of my shooting head, when about midway through the swing, the rod darn near got ripped out of my hand. The take was so violent that even Charlie saw it from his station way upriver.

It didn’t take but a few seconds to realize that this was not a typical Deschutes river fish, given the super-long, super-strong runs even with mega pressure applied. After a lengthy battle, I was finally able to tire her enough that Charlie, who had come down to help land her, was able to get a hand around the wrist of her tail. I’m guessing this was a stray B-run fish from the Clearwater. We snapped a couple of pics and then allowed her to continue on her journey. I know, I know. She’s just a hatchery brat, but I have a soft spot where the Idaho bound fish are concerned and just couldn’t bring myself to harvest her.
 

We decided to run into town during the heat of the day to grab a burger and shake at Big Jim’s in The Dalles, then return to give it one last shot when the sun left the water - which we did, but unfortunately with no further excitement. Given water temps that were pushing seventy degrees by this time, the fish may have been less active than they were in the morning when temps were closer to the comfy sixty degree mark.

I gave Charlie one of my coveted Little Wang GB's to fish the evening session with, and he really liked it. (Shocker, eh?!  =) In fact, he asked if I could get some info on the foam you use Todd, i.e. type, size and maybe where you typically get it.

Anyhoo - that’s the haps from the D boyz!

Steve

Double Dose of Mojo - Floating with my Bride and Hardy meets Cabela's

My wife Wendi decided that she'd float with me in my drift boat for the first time yesterday afternoon.  We did a short local stretch for a quick afternoon/evening float.  Wendi brought her phone, some paperwork, and some sale ads and was good to go.

I hit a few spots in the nice shade on river left as evening approached.  I fished a favorite run with anticipation, but the glare made it tough and I regretted stopping there because of having to bang into rocks in that shallow stuff which jolted Wendi around and made her back hurt - note to self, next time pass that spot up.

Hit another favored run with high hopes, nothing.

I figured to close out the evening at a nice classic run near the take out.  I came in a bit lower in the run to avoid banging the boat around on the rocks near shore.  Wendi was on her phone with an insurance guy getting car insurance quotes while I walked above the boat, figuring to allow myself space to extend my line enough so that by the time my fly would get even with the boat, I had a good working length of line out.  I had my Ambush head and a strip or two of running line out the tip.  On about my second cast, my fly was even with the boat and I was looking down at my reel to look at a bit of loose running line I had after the cast.  Just then, I heard a good splash at the fly and saw the rise in the periphery of my vision, and fish on!  I managed to keep my loose line from tangling and the steelie took off.  After a few back and forth runs I had the fish just about banked on the gravel bar and it somehow caught some traction and took off across the run again.  I got the steelie back in and it started heading for my anchor rope so I put some pressure on to keep it from tangling.  I got it cleared of the anchor rope then had it coming back to shore and the hook pulled out, Dang it!!  Ah well, again, can't bonk em all, got a good fight out of him/her.  Looked like a typical 8-9lb steelhead, fairly bright with a hint of pink.

The Green Butt LW strikes again, plus Wendi saw the whole thing from the rise to the end of the battle, she was quite entertained.  She was going to video me with the fish on, but she was still on the phone and her battery was running low.  Also, I was using my brand new Cabela's TL R 11' 6wt switch rod that was on sale my local Cabela's and it was a deal that I couldn't pass up.  Maybe my new toy has some mojo.  Didn't know $80 could buy me so much fun.  My 3 7/8 Perfect and 9wt Ambush were an ideal match on this little rod.

So I had a great day with my three B's - my Bronco, my Boat, and my Blonde.