Epic Day

Traditionally the word "epic" referred to a long story surrounding a heroic main character.  Today the word expresses wonder or awe at the overall awesomeness of something.  When the word first gained modern popularity it was almost annoying how often people were using it. Epic fails, epic wins, epic stunts, you name it and you could find it being done, epically.  Fortunately, the "epic" spouting has calmed down.  The word has been changed forever thanks to the flexibility of the English language.  There are some word trends I wish we could forget. "Porn" this and "porn" that. I may sound like a prude, but I would be glad to see that word stay a red-light district term and keep away from the world of angling, but that's a whole other topic.  As for the word "epic", it was overused for a time, but I'm okay with it being around today. And sometimes things are just... well... epic.

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I awoke to the unobtrusive sound of crickets issuing from my phone.  "Text me when you leave your house" was the message I sent Shane the evening before.  Rubbing my eyes, trying to read the text, I made out "Wakey wakey." Ha ha, good old Shane.  Groggy but determined I forced myself out of the bed I had crawled into a mere three hours previously. With determination I had stayed up till 3ish in the AM to ensure a whole homework-free day on the water.

I pulled into the gas station parking lot, threw stuff into Shane's pickup, we grabbed some breakfast, and headed out for some unseasonably warm, winter fishing.  The sun crept over the hills, slowly illuminating the sparse cloud cover with hues of pink, red, and blue.  Good vibes were in the air as we pulled up to the water. That new fishing trip excitement is infectious. There's something about a whole day full of angling possibilities that gets me giddy. I think most serious anglers can relate.

Suited up, we started beating the exposed riverbed with our wader clad feet. The best fishing spots require foot work (without a boat), and we put that theory into action most outings. Ice cracked underfoot. First casts... Shane's indicator sunk, set, fish on!  My indicator moments later... dunk, set, fish on!  A double on the first casts of the day.  It was as if the Beach Boys were singing their immemorial tune "Good Vibrations" in the background. It was a sign of good things to come.

And so it went throughout the day, the weather was great, the flies did their trick, goodhearted banter with jokes went on, and the fishing was productive.

The fly that did the trick for almost all my fish was a white bugger-like fly tied on a Gamakatsu 211 Jig hook (tutorial to come, eventually).  Jig flies are something I have been experimenting with for about a year now, with great success.  They're nothing new to tie flies with, but rarely seen being fished on a fly rod, especially under an indicator.  Apparently it works.  I fished white in tandem with a hotwire hare's ear trailer the whole day, and Shane fished olive with a san juan worm trailer.

You really never know what you're going to get on your line in any given day, location, or run.  The fishing had already been great and it was not yet noon.  We came up to one of our favorite spots and began catching fish pretty quick.  After we had been there for a bit I decided to drift one right up close to the bank.  The indicator sank and I thought it might have been a snag. After the precautionary hook-set (because you never know) I felt a heavy, throbbing headshake.  A few moments later I could make out the form of a stout fish, doing what Adele would do if hooked, rolling in the deep.  I hollered at Shane, and being the faithful friend and fishing companion he is, he scooped up his net and hurried over to help.  Once landed we could see it was a beautiful hybrid.

A few casts later, a little more upstream, but in the same run, a similar thing happened.  This time it turned out to be a hearty bow.  This was one of maybe three fish that took the hare's ear the entire day, but I think that was because I fished it on a tag end a couple feet above the jig fly, so as to not hinder the jigs swimming motion under the indicator.  One thing I have noticed with these jig flies is that twitching your indicator is actually a good thing, where it gives the fly movement and the weight of the jig still keeps the fly "in the zone."  Often the indicator would tank immediately after a twitch, similar to fishing with chironomids.

I'm not entirely certain what is was about this day, but the big hybrids were out and hungry.  A little later in the day we were exploring some water that looked promising.  Shane's indicator did what we like it to do and he connected with another fantastic hybrid.

On one instance my indicator went down and I set only to find myself hooked up with what felt like a carp, or massive trout.  Carp have a distinctive bulldog fighting style and with their mass they do not move around as quickly as a trout does.  It fought well for being in nearly freezing water.  It was a wonderful surprise, and on a white jig fly no less.

There is something about trout colors in the winter.  They get so much brighter and the fish appear so much healthier.  It would be a crime not to take a picture of how beautiful some of these fish are.

Not much later in the day, and in the same place Shane picked up his dandy I set into another thick hybrid.  I have no idea why the hybrids were so active, but I'm not arguing!  

Shane stuck another beaut, unfortunately the camera's settings got changed when it was stuffed into a backpack, and I didn't think to check them.  I think you can still get a sense for the quality of fish it was from the pic. 

It was one of those trips that leaves you on a fishing high for days.  It felt like "indian summer fall" kind of weather and the fishing matched.  These are the kind of days you walk your tail off to get.  Was it worth staying up till 3 in the morning?  You betcha.  I can probably count the number of these kind of days on one hand.  Sorry to overwhelm you with pictures, but sometimes they tell the best story.  And what better way to show how a day on the water can be, than to show some beautiful fish pics and tell you it was simply... epic.

From The Ocean To My Backyard

If someone told me I had to walk 900 miles, scaling many cliffs, mountains, and hills, just to get some loving I would say they were crazy.  Some fish we respect for their fight, some for the difficulty of catching, some for their looks, some for the unique places they are caught, some for the ease of catching, and others because they are simply an amazing species.  Usually the fish we catch are a combination of such attributes.  Steelhead, or any anadromous fish for that matter, deserve their proper respect.  Beginning as a little smolt these fish travel all the way back to the ocean over waterfalls and multiple dams, passing countless predators, and all because something in their bones tells them to.  If I weren't willing to travel that far on foot for some sweet loving, I sure as heck wouldn't do it for some seafood.

After one to two years of swimming around in the salty blue, something tells these magnificent creatures it is time to return home.  In other words, it's business time.  Slowly they group together and work their way back upstream, across the same dams and waterfalls they passed when young, all the way back to the shallow headwaters they came from.  All this is done so the cycle can repeat itself.

These fish are a gift.  What they do and give is almost a selfless act.  So much of the ecosystems they reside in are blessed by their presence, life, and death.  They bring nutrients and sustenance to the waters by giving new life to their children and dying themselves.  It is quite a gift indeed.

"If our father had had his say, nobody who did not know how to fish would be allowed to disgrace a fish by catching him."  Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It

It is with a great respect that I choose to fish for steelhead.  Understanding their sacrifice makes the experience all the more worthwhile and special.  To respect a fish is to know the gift it is to you.

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I was beginning to think there would not be time to make a spring trip this season.  Various obligations threatened the idea, with school finals taking the forefront. It was either go later than I normally would or not at all.  Shane showed interest and so we made plans for a two-day excursion just after classes were out.

With Shane's little truck packed full of camping and fishing gear we set off around 11pm.  The plan was to arrive there around 2am and pass out in the car till dawn, then set up camp after a full day of fishing.  The amount of wildlife increased as we got closer to our destination. We arrived around 2am as expected.  After parking we couldn't help but throw on headlamps and scope out the water.  To our pleasant surprise we found a handful of fish hugging the bank as they worked their way upstream.  Shane threw on some crazy glow jig streamer I had handy and set to work.  He set into one and promptly broke off.  After putting on a large black streamer, and casting without any success we decided to get some sleep and put our energy into the next days fishing.

I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew Shane was telling me to get up.  I laughed as it was barely light outside.  He kicked the heater on and we wadered up while munching on poppyseed muffins.  It was C.O.L.D.  We beat the water and fought iced guides most of the day.  The four of five fish we saw the night before gave us a false impression about the amount of fish in the river still.

We moved around a lot.  The name of the game was searching and sightcasting.  Throughout the day we picked up one or two fish here and there.  By the end of the first day we managed to bring around a dozen fish to hand.

This hen was the first fish of the trip.  We had moved around to a few places that normally produce fish quite well, but with no success this time.  We found ourselves back to the first place we started, on our way back upriver, but on the opposite bank.  Shane had just worked upstream around the bend and was out of hearing. I launched my line out in the middle of the river, already having worked the bank.  Halfway through the drift the little indicator dunked and I set.  The steelie fought hard, and it felt great. The first fish of the trip was caught, landed, and photoed without a witness.  It felt good to get the skunkmonkey off my back.  Shane eventually made his way back and we fished the spot a bit more without any luck.  We then headed upriver to another hopeful spot.

The temperature had warmed to a comfortable level by then and we were no longer fighting ice on the guides, though the temperature was still on the verge of freezing.  On the second cast this beautiful male took.  Shane and I both thought the chances of there being another fish in the run were good so he took a swing at the same section.  Just as he was asking where the previous fish had taken I said "right there" as his indicator floated over the spot and tanked.  We both began laughing immediately as he set into another fish.

The net showed just how cold it was outside.  Funny how it seemed warm by this point in the day, compared to what it was all morning.

Shane got rid of his skunkmonkey and broke in the Loop XACT all in one time.

For someone who is unfamiliar with the area and pyrite, they might think they hit the jackpot. This "fools gold" is everywhere in the upper Salmon area.  Little flecks of gold-like substance flicker everywhere in the sandy places along the banks.

Shane making one of his characteristic faces.  He could give Jim Carrey a run for his money.

I have never fished for steelhead this late in the season, so it was quite a sight to behold when we first witnessed the smolt everywhere.  They were packed in the hundreds along certain sections of shoreline.  I watched them in awe as I thought of the journey they were just beginning, and that I may have the honor of catching one of those that I watched at a later date.

We kept working our way upriver, combing the water for any fishy places.  If there were redds, we would pass them and move on, though to be honest we probably only saw two during the whole trip.  The day continued with a fish here and another there.

Shane with a great one.  Most of the fish caught were wild.  I think only one was a hatchery fish.

The release.

The bluebird skies are deceiving when it comes to the real temperature.  The night we slept in the tent got as low as 9 degrees Fahrenheit   It was colder than we had anticipated, which made for a restless night.  Next time I'm bringing extra blankets for certain!

This was the last landed fish for the trip.  The second day we took our time, enjoyed the scenery, and didn't fish too hard.  We both hooked up with fish, but did not land any.  We were both so content with the previous days result that there was no need to push ourselves that hard, the trip had already been worth it.

This is a shot of a tree from the Galena Summit overlook.  The headwaters of the Salmon River can be seen from this spot, as well as a breathtaking view of the Sawtooth Mountains.

Though the trip was certainly later in the season than I would like to go, it was still remarkably enjoyable.  Shane always makes for great company, and the scenery is always fantastic.  It was a couple days well spent with a species I hold a great respect for.  I'm grateful they make the effort, and take the time, to come visit me in my backyard.

Fur Feather Foolery

"Whenever, therefore, people are deceived and form opinions wide of the truth, it is clear that the error has slid into their minds through the medium of certain resemblances to that truth."

-Socrates 

Both fish and people alike are prone to chase after imitations.  I wish I could say fish do so more than people, but that is probably not true.  I wonder what fish would tell each other concerning such things if they could speak.  Just imagine it.  One fish says to his friend, "you mean you actually thought that hairy thing was a minnow!?  What a doofus."  Putting aside the theological discussion that could be had concerning people, I have to admit that I am grateful fish can be duped.  What is even more gratifying is knowing that the device for deception can be a homegrown, do-it-yourself affair.  "Matching the hatch" is the common phrase, but "matching the meat" could find its place as well.

There is something to tricking a fish into eating fur, feathers, thread, and steel.  It appeals to the sleeping caveman hunter in all of us.  Sitting at the vise, grabbing various materials, building a new fly as it is tied can be quite fun.  Then fishing it, feeling how it casts, and observing its movements in the water.  The biggest test of all... does it catch fish.  After fishing the pattern and getting a feel for it, you take the ideas back to the vise and tweak a bit here and there.  Does it need more weight, a bead here or there, perhaps less weight, a different color added or taken away, a shorter tail, or a multitude of other options.  Then you repeat the process.  It is much like the caveman hunter going through a transition from stick spears to stone arrowheads, and finding that sharp stones make for bigger game.  The entire process is enjoyable and adds a whole other creative dimension to fishing.

Foolery Goodies.

It has been a fortunate fall thus far.  The attempts at fish foolery have paid off greatly.  This beautiful specimen took the Magic Dragon sculpin pattern.  I was in shock at how girthy this guy was.  It would take almost four hands to reach around him.

I am becoming more and more convinced that there are large fish in most waters.  The trick is figuring out location and feeding patterns.  Our night fishing escapades really brought this idea home.  A run in an easily accessible area, that is fished with heavy pressure day after day can still put out massive fish.  Shane proved that point once again with THIS FISH from this past weekend.  Big fish have to eat too, we fishermen just have to figure out the wheres and hows.

Big streamer.  Big fish.

Chubby lips.

Blue spot.

This has to be the biggest whitie I have ever seen. 

This one is for Gus.  Recognize the fly?

The SF is already at lower flows than last years winter flows.  Could get even lower.  Should make for some accessible wader fishing.

This week we'll be up north chasing macks and some more browns with gaudy streamers.  Let's see how the lakers take to our deceitful ways.