Started out around 9:00am at the tee-pee burner – I decided to go with the lighter rod and sinking tip just for the ease of it and the fact that the water has been warming up so I was assuming feisty, grabby, upward-looking fish. One half pounder to hand. Fished tarpon bend as Dirk, Trevor and Casey were putting in for a float – I will definitely have to query them tomorrow to see how it went – I moved down to Supply Creek and then behind the market with only two or three soft grabs. I packed up and went looking for matsutakes which ended up with a similar success rate – I should have went to a damper, north-facing slope rather than the drier slope I scrambled along for some time. Still, though, a fine sunny day both astream and in the woods.
Category: Steelhead Sanity
Stand in rain or clean house?
rain, sun, rain
Started out early in the rain, then things briefly cleared to warm sun in the early afternoon, then a walloping downpour came through late afternoon. It came slowly over the western edge of the valley looking like a giant wave. Only one small steelhead to hand, but a slow and steady stream of mystery grabs to keep it interesting. I was “asleep at the reel” for the best grab of the day. Some late salmon showing in the runs. Water was the color of very light tea and all of the traditional runs were very fishable at 1,900cfs. No wind ever really appeared until the very end as the downpour commenced; making for a simple, quiet outing along the river now completely bathed in fall. If nothing else, everything just seems quiet now and it’s easy to loose track of time altogether while working through the water. I fished the new (to me) spey rod that Jonas from Norway sent me and it took me awhile to get in the groove, but once I did, I settled into an easy rhythm with it. The pace of the day was easy, and the schedule was just right, getting me home in time for an early dinner. Despite the lack of fish, it’s days like these that make me want to go back again and again.
Down Among the Stones
I can’t see any of what lies below. Only a guess, a feeling that the little seam on the far side ‘seems’ like the place to sit. Just a hunch that they are there lying in wait unfettered by the fast water rushing by. Their sleek bodies slide through it all, waiting for a cue, maybe a change in the current, or the fall of night, or, this morning, the light dawning over leaden skies full of rain. They know those stones where they can just sit and watch it all go by. They see the crawfish poke its head briefly up, colored burnt orange and then disappearing under the cobbles again. The water drops slowly at night and, still, they just sit and wait.
This weekend will mark two weeks without swinging a fly line. While I’ve been out to the river for a couple of brief walks, I’ve yet to participate for any length of time in the refreshed riverscape that is appearing all over. In other words, I’m approaching desperate status for some extended water time.
In the Lair of a Sea Monster
Everything is big here. The streamside boulders are big, the run, itself, is anchored above by a house-sized boulder. The river flows deep, but with a pace that suggests big things are here hiding among the boulders, lying in wait. At the bottom of the run the river bellies out into a broad tailout before plunging through a long, fast stretch of broken water. This was my third time here – each time previous I had those mystery grabs on the long, deep slow swing. This afternoon, bathed in honey-colored light, was no different. Twice, on consecutive casts I had the slow pull from down deep, sending a shiver through me and leaving me cursing in a frustrated, hushed mumble. There are sea monsters in here…
Emerald Velvet
A golden maple leaf
While falling
Tells the story
Of Spring, Summer, Autumn.
Dropping on yesterday’s wind,
Beneath clouds hanging low
Clouds hiding more mountains behind.
Soft hiss of light rain on water,
This river now whispers winter.
Down here
A quiet singing surrounds
Sounding like
Emerald velvet sliding
Over little slate pebbles.
The Wonderful Life of Cobblestones
Always afterwards.
And, with a pause,
A recognition,
Smack dab in the middle.
This is it!
Then returning,
Ascending maybe,
Into this intensely focused moment.
All around,
Quiet work takes place.
All these things, for now,
Hushed and hurried
In a purposeful way.
Everywhere there is movement.
And it’s just a moment
Passing too soon.
Old-New water revisited
It’s been a wee bit over a month since I visited this place on a smoky afternoon.
DEFINITELY worth keeping in the back pocket for future trips.
Prototype Christmas Gift
Playing with the alignments, colors and, of course, the flies for a gift. I ended up placing the flies upside down in relation to the hanger on back, so I will have to do a version 2 which is OK since I figured out a better way to secure to mounting posts for the flies and I will color the wood inside a light brown perhaps.
Lessons on Humility whilst Standing in a Steelhead Stream
It just had to work again. Nature likes persistence. I was wrong…
Modeled predictions – Yesterday provided satisfactory results all around. The plan was to improve upon everything this morning – just make it a little better. Found a new lie to fish through, contemplated a schedule (early), tailored some flies for the situation, prepared some food, and went to sleep trying not to think about how the morning was going to be one of those memorable days when I had hooked enough and decide to head home early to have a leisurely day off at home.
Actual observations – Arrive on time, confidently and patiently rig up, get the waders on while chatting with a fellow showing up for work on the nearby road project. Same pre-dawn scene at the bank. Steaming water, and brilliant glow behind the mountain. It’s a fair bit warmer this morning, too. Ohh, this is even better than I was expecting! I walk straight down to the crossing for East-West run. On the wade across a pod of about eight or so fish pushes over the riffle, see me, then turn back down. Getting better all the time. I arrive and start high up on the run so I can fish down into the far side lie methodically and, of course, patiently.
As the sun first peeks through the trees on the ridgeline a focused intensity permeates the air. Water vapor oozes everywhere in wispy tendrils that catch the first rays. The river slides purposefully over the cobbles beneath. Everything seems at work. Fish roll up and down the run, some of them splashy affairs that might suggest steelhead. Along the far bank are various slicks and seams that call out for a fly to swing through them. The casts, mends and swings are perfect throughout. Along the way a half pounder is hooked and jumped as the fly swings around on the dangle.
At one point , I catch myself absent of all thought. The usual upstairs chatter is missing for a few moments. Those moments. Fish show here and there, the run is fished through. I start at the top again, changing to a lighter pattern. Halfway down a half pounder is hooked and released. Nothing else doing. The sun is well up now and morning is kicking in. I head back upstream to fish the very bottom of North-South and only one grab to show.
A sure thing comes up short of expectations. But it provides the perfect lesson. And finding emptiness is rarely bad…
Shaken Rain 
