Sharphooks
Well-Known Member
Only a steelheader knows how many variables there are involved in order to have a crazy good day on the river. So many different things have to come together. Did you oversleep and miss the show? Too much rain? No, not enough rain....we need rain! Then there’s .... did anyone go through the hole before I got here? Did they know what they were doing? Do they know about that boulder patch you can’t see at this river height? Damn, the sun is out! No, too dark, no way they can see my gear in this light! Or....——maybe no fish? Am I too late? Did I miss the run and I should have gone upstream into the rainforest? And on and on and on....
In the salt chuck it’s: my outboard works, I’ve got gas, my hooks are sharp.... I’ll go give it a shot.
So I managed to get the last two days in on a coastal river before it shut down on 01 April—-it‘s near and dear to my heart and the fish have been known to respond very well to a dead-drifted fly
On the way in at dark last Wednesday, at least 8 or 9 cars were coming back from the river. That weighed heavy on me because it’s rare to see so many people at tide water on this particular river....I was sort of crushed seeing all that outbound activity——the river surely got pounded
So I’m up at 0-dark thirty on Thursday morning and WTF, three cars go by me in the dark heading for my spot
I literally almost got back in my truck and headed home—-there are very few spots to fish in this tidewater part of the river and just a few people would be too many. Meanwhile, I don’t enjoy fishing around other people so there’s that.....
I had the coffee jitters going on and was working myself into a frenzy. So I said to myself....Dude, calm down, shut up and at least go see how things look
So I get to the one spot that’s accessible for fishing a fly and three hard-chargers come out of the trees, miners lights on full blast....they’re carrying both jig and spinning rods—-they mean business. But Lordy Lordy, they walk right past where I want to fish—-they’re heading upstream and crossing the river—- I couldn’t believe my good fortune....nobody in my spot—-I had it all to myself!
I step in with a floating line (it’s a shallow gut and I can see it’s only about 6” deep)
First couple of casts, I’m shocked—-I hook a fish .....I get a few head shakes and it’s gone—-it happened way too fast and I was asleep at the wheel but now I’m on absolute high alert....when it happens that fast, my experience has been there are definitely some more fish around
Just as I’m sharpening the hook to make sure it was it’s in proper condition one of the guys who waded across the river has decided to come in my direction and fish the gut I was standing in, but from the other side....I went from full blown elation to fully crushed—-the gut was just a shallow narrow thing, a skinny braid off the main river, definitely too small for two people..... and he was fishing a spinner. If there were more fish around, no doubt he’d find them lickety split and then wouldn’t leave
But just as he’s about to take a cast his buddy yells at him from the other side of the river and says....”Dude, don’t waste your time there, zero fish , get over on this side where the fish are”....so he leaves....I’m back to elation again—- can’t believe my good fortune because Now for sure I have this spot to myself and I knew it was time to fasten my seat belt
It was getting light now, and I could see the water was getting a bit deeper and a bit faster—-I stepped out of the river, threaded a sink tip onto my rod, and stepped back in...instant Fish No. 2 ....like massive take-down, 5 summersaults, screaming run...the hook pulls but I’m in heaven....all I really wanted was to feel something big with shoulders on the end of my fly rod and I’d already had two of them—-the pressure was off! And good news I lost that fish because me fiddling about, releasing a fish would have gotten their attention and I already knew they were hungry types.
So I keep working through the hole....long story short...three more fish....all of them completely chrome, fresh in on a tide, gorgeous wild steelhead hung with garlands of sea lice....all of them taking huge line off my reel, each one of them entertaining me with 6 to 9 jumps.....one of them was pushing 14 lbs
I was flabbergasted—-5 wild steelhead on a fly (the same fly—-I never changed) by 10 AM ——are you kidding me????
I knew it wouldn’t get any better so I reeled in my line and decided to take the dog to the beach for a stroll down to where the river pumps into the Pacific Ocean....what a spot!
So the next morning big rain was predicted. Once again, I got up at 0-dark thirty to get into my spot while it was still dark. The same three guys show back up. The same three guys walk past my spot, wade across the river and leave me to my little piece of paradise. I was blown away to get that lucky break twice in a row!
I take three casts and boom, I’m into another fish. It’s still dark and I’m already into FiSh No. 6 for the trip. I’d just turned it loose and stepped back into the river and got my line out when a gear guy shows up—-he’s carrying three rods and a pack and proceeds to step in about 10 feet below me with his float, pretending he doesn’t see me. He casts over my line and instantly hooks a fish, but then just as fast, he loses it
I knew that was it for the morning—-no way he was going to leave after hooking a fish And no way was I going to get into a discussion about river etiquette —-I didn’t have the energy and I was already glowing from the 6 fish I’d already hooked. So while he’s screwing around with his gear I look up at the sky and issue a plea to the bearded Dude above...please Lord, I said, please let me hook just one last fish, Fish No. 7, my lucky number, but a big one, a big one that tears this pool apart.....
Next cast, I get the huge take-down I asked for. The fish is instantly in the air, clearing the water by a clean meter....and then it’s off to the races, my 100 year old Hardy Brass Faced Perfect screaming hysterically like a stuck pig
SO this guy of course sees all this go down and comes running at me with a.....WTF....with a landing net!!!!!!....
Dude, no net, leave me alone, I say. I don’t ever use nets , no nets unless I’m in kill mode and this river is 100% C&R so no freaking nets!.
But he’s on a rampage. He get’s into this narrative about how I absolutely MUST use a landing net, everybody uses landing nets, and the only net we’re not allowed to use is a tribal gill net....you know, so we don’t hurt the fish???? etc etc.
I look up at the sky again and issue plea No. 2 to the bearded guy above—-—-Dear Lord, please make this fish take a 100 yard run downstream so I can get the F away from this idiot—-the Lord complies and the fish takes off like a freight train for the crashing waves below and I get to run off down the river bank and get away from this weird duck with his bizarre net manifesto
OF course after Mr. Landing Net saw all that go down, the run was toast. He would pound it into oblivion. So I left the river at 9 AM and drove back home
That’s one thing I’ve gotten good at in my old age—-back away from the table when you’re happy——don’t slobber at the trough.
I’m still on Cloud 9—it so easily could have gone the other way....and what was so bizarre about that spot....it’s basically a dead-end.....upstream of where I had all that action the water peters out to a few inches then there’s an impassable hump of gravel....the river was that low from zero precip ...not sure why all those fish were hanging out where they were....they would have had to back out and go around to the main river to head upstream
So....yes, a hugely lucky, lucky trip. Exactly what I needed to whittle away the winter blahs!
In the salt chuck it’s: my outboard works, I’ve got gas, my hooks are sharp.... I’ll go give it a shot.
So I managed to get the last two days in on a coastal river before it shut down on 01 April—-it‘s near and dear to my heart and the fish have been known to respond very well to a dead-drifted fly
On the way in at dark last Wednesday, at least 8 or 9 cars were coming back from the river. That weighed heavy on me because it’s rare to see so many people at tide water on this particular river....I was sort of crushed seeing all that outbound activity——the river surely got pounded
So I’m up at 0-dark thirty on Thursday morning and WTF, three cars go by me in the dark heading for my spot
I literally almost got back in my truck and headed home—-there are very few spots to fish in this tidewater part of the river and just a few people would be too many. Meanwhile, I don’t enjoy fishing around other people so there’s that.....
I had the coffee jitters going on and was working myself into a frenzy. So I said to myself....Dude, calm down, shut up and at least go see how things look
So I get to the one spot that’s accessible for fishing a fly and three hard-chargers come out of the trees, miners lights on full blast....they’re carrying both jig and spinning rods—-they mean business. But Lordy Lordy, they walk right past where I want to fish—-they’re heading upstream and crossing the river—- I couldn’t believe my good fortune....nobody in my spot—-I had it all to myself!
I step in with a floating line (it’s a shallow gut and I can see it’s only about 6” deep)
First couple of casts, I’m shocked—-I hook a fish .....I get a few head shakes and it’s gone—-it happened way too fast and I was asleep at the wheel but now I’m on absolute high alert....when it happens that fast, my experience has been there are definitely some more fish around
Just as I’m sharpening the hook to make sure it was it’s in proper condition one of the guys who waded across the river has decided to come in my direction and fish the gut I was standing in, but from the other side....I went from full blown elation to fully crushed—-the gut was just a shallow narrow thing, a skinny braid off the main river, definitely too small for two people..... and he was fishing a spinner. If there were more fish around, no doubt he’d find them lickety split and then wouldn’t leave
But just as he’s about to take a cast his buddy yells at him from the other side of the river and says....”Dude, don’t waste your time there, zero fish , get over on this side where the fish are”....so he leaves....I’m back to elation again—- can’t believe my good fortune because Now for sure I have this spot to myself and I knew it was time to fasten my seat belt
It was getting light now, and I could see the water was getting a bit deeper and a bit faster—-I stepped out of the river, threaded a sink tip onto my rod, and stepped back in...instant Fish No. 2 ....like massive take-down, 5 summersaults, screaming run...the hook pulls but I’m in heaven....all I really wanted was to feel something big with shoulders on the end of my fly rod and I’d already had two of them—-the pressure was off! And good news I lost that fish because me fiddling about, releasing a fish would have gotten their attention and I already knew they were hungry types.
So I keep working through the hole....long story short...three more fish....all of them completely chrome, fresh in on a tide, gorgeous wild steelhead hung with garlands of sea lice....all of them taking huge line off my reel, each one of them entertaining me with 6 to 9 jumps.....one of them was pushing 14 lbs
I was flabbergasted—-5 wild steelhead on a fly (the same fly—-I never changed) by 10 AM ——are you kidding me????
I knew it wouldn’t get any better so I reeled in my line and decided to take the dog to the beach for a stroll down to where the river pumps into the Pacific Ocean....what a spot!
So the next morning big rain was predicted. Once again, I got up at 0-dark thirty to get into my spot while it was still dark. The same three guys show back up. The same three guys walk past my spot, wade across the river and leave me to my little piece of paradise. I was blown away to get that lucky break twice in a row!
I take three casts and boom, I’m into another fish. It’s still dark and I’m already into FiSh No. 6 for the trip. I’d just turned it loose and stepped back into the river and got my line out when a gear guy shows up—-he’s carrying three rods and a pack and proceeds to step in about 10 feet below me with his float, pretending he doesn’t see me. He casts over my line and instantly hooks a fish, but then just as fast, he loses it
I knew that was it for the morning—-no way he was going to leave after hooking a fish And no way was I going to get into a discussion about river etiquette —-I didn’t have the energy and I was already glowing from the 6 fish I’d already hooked. So while he’s screwing around with his gear I look up at the sky and issue a plea to the bearded Dude above...please Lord, I said, please let me hook just one last fish, Fish No. 7, my lucky number, but a big one, a big one that tears this pool apart.....
Next cast, I get the huge take-down I asked for. The fish is instantly in the air, clearing the water by a clean meter....and then it’s off to the races, my 100 year old Hardy Brass Faced Perfect screaming hysterically like a stuck pig
SO this guy of course sees all this go down and comes running at me with a.....WTF....with a landing net!!!!!!....
Dude, no net, leave me alone, I say. I don’t ever use nets , no nets unless I’m in kill mode and this river is 100% C&R so no freaking nets!.
But he’s on a rampage. He get’s into this narrative about how I absolutely MUST use a landing net, everybody uses landing nets, and the only net we’re not allowed to use is a tribal gill net....you know, so we don’t hurt the fish???? etc etc.
I look up at the sky again and issue plea No. 2 to the bearded guy above—-—-Dear Lord, please make this fish take a 100 yard run downstream so I can get the F away from this idiot—-the Lord complies and the fish takes off like a freight train for the crashing waves below and I get to run off down the river bank and get away from this weird duck with his bizarre net manifesto
OF course after Mr. Landing Net saw all that go down, the run was toast. He would pound it into oblivion. So I left the river at 9 AM and drove back home
That’s one thing I’ve gotten good at in my old age—-back away from the table when you’re happy——don’t slobber at the trough.
I’m still on Cloud 9—it so easily could have gone the other way....and what was so bizarre about that spot....it’s basically a dead-end.....upstream of where I had all that action the water peters out to a few inches then there’s an impassable hump of gravel....the river was that low from zero precip ...not sure why all those fish were hanging out where they were....they would have had to back out and go around to the main river to head upstream
So....yes, a hugely lucky, lucky trip. Exactly what I needed to whittle away the winter blahs!
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