Thanks for all the great responses and hope you guys enjoyed the piece, sorry I didn't have time to edit it before I posted it. I couldn't have asked for a better birthday present, now I just need to find myself a cromer!
Danny, to answer your question, I made the "churning out 3 dozen flies" part sound a little bit easier than it was, I spent most of the evening tying, and have the good fortune of working a graveyard job where there is no one looking over my shoulder so for my "lunch" I often bring in my vice and a few materials. The steelhead was caught on a marabou and egg yarn bug I've been playing around with, although I think that fish would have taken just about anything brightly colored I threw at it, if the presentation was right. Personally, I don't get into swinging flies for anything trout or steelhead, and even less for steelhead because it seems to me to not be the most effective way to catch them, but then again I'm certainly no expert, I've only been steelhead fishing a half dozen times. Swinging has just never had any appeal for me, and I always watch the drift fishermen next to me nailing steelhead with pieces of yarn tied on hooks. From my reckoning, if they catch steelhead on pieces of yarn, it doesn't matter what fly pattern your using, it just matters that you put it in front of them, put your fly in the zone. From what I'm told, many people that swing are picking fish up while the fish are moving, but my experience watching the gear fishermen in Michigan and the Great Lakes taught me that it's easier/more effective to fish for them when they are resting, because you know the places where they are resting and can specifically target those places. Like trout fishing, I think the key to success is to eliminate the most factors you can. Best of luck everyone and tight lines! Ryan Davey MSN GSC Calling Fly Fishing a hobby is like calling Brain Surgery a job. - Paul Schullery -----Original Message----- From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]] On Behalf Of Allen Peterson Sent: Monday, February 10, 2003 10:00 AM To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Subject: Re: Happy Birthday! My First Steelhead on a Fly Great story Ryan and to echo the others...Happy Birthday! Al Peterson ---------- Original Message ---------------------------------- From: "Ryan Davey" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> Reply-To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Date: Mon, 10 Feb 2003 06:55:06 -0800 > It all started many years ago, when a close friend called me >to explain his problem. "Every year, I've gone fishing for my birthday. >It's a tradition." That year, he was without a vehicle and dying for >some fishing. Always looking for an excuse to go fishing, I called in >sick and took him to the South Platte for the day. While the idea is by >no means unique, I adopted it and have gone fishing on my birthday every >year since. One year I spent four days catching huge rainbows on an >obscure lake on the North Island of New Zealand. Another year, a friend >took me smallmouth bass fishing in a small creek. > All week I pondered the options of where to go. Since I had >gotten recent negative reports on lahontan cutthroats, and I was >convinced that steelhead were a myth anyway, I was leaning towards >fishing some hidden desert creeks. I called a friend, who happened to >be a steelhead bum, and he said the rivers on the Peninsula were in >shape and the forecast was good. Well, I thought, I wouldn't mind >catching a steelhead for my birthday. I have spent a considerable >amount of time trying to figure out why quite a few perfectly normal >trout fisherman friends of mine now only fish for steelhead. There must >be something to it, I thought. > The night before the trip, I called my friend to confirm our >trip. He said he had a bronze casting class that he just couldn't get >out of, so I gathered a few spots off him and arranged to meet him at a >certain campground on Wednesday night. Hurriedly, I tied 3 dozen flies, >packed my gear, and was ready. > At 6:30am I left work, and made it to my destination on the >Peninsula absolutely exhausted from not sleeping and the long drive. >After an hour cat nap, I downed some caffeine and began scouting a place >to fish. This was a very popular river, and even on a Wednesday most of >the pullouts were full. Chris had said one of the keys to success was >finding fish that hadn't been pressured, and he should know, last season >he caught more steelhead than most people catch in they're lives. Aside >from that knowledge, I like to get off the beaten path. > After locating a likely spot, I parked my car, suited up, >and followed the overgrown road deep into the first growth forest. Soon >the forest service road ended, and after a few minutes of searching, I >found a rough cut trail disappearing into the dark overgrown bush. The >trail slithered and snaked it's way deeper and deeper, and soon I could >hear the rushing sound of water. The trail suddenly ended at a huge >fallen log, and following it's length, I found myself standing out over >a forty foot cliff overlooking the river. Instinctively I reached for >my digital camera, and turned it on to capture the beauty of this rugged >river valley. Nothing. I stared at it in bewilderment for a moment, >before realizing that I had forgotten my battery in the charger at home. >Damnit, I thought, hope I don't catch a steelhead. > While the thought of sliding down the cliff to access the >river looked more appealing than I'm sure it would have been, I couldn't >ponder a way back up to return to my vehicle. Eventually, I backtracked >to my car. > I spent the next hour driving up and down, in a state of >delirium, trying to figure out where to fish. Eventually, I found >another forest road. This one was as overgrown as the first, and I saw >no other footprints. It also terminated without warning, and I found >myself bushwhacking in the direction that I knew the river lay. >Following game trails, drainages, anything I could find, I secretly >hoped I would be able to find my way back out again. Soon, I arrived at >another cliff. Walking it's length, I found a way down, crossed a small >feeder creek, a flood plain, and arrived at a braid of the river. > This braid of the river was small, intimate, with lot's of >good structure and holding water. After rigging up, I walked down to >the river and saw a shadow slide away. Aaah, I thought. A steelhead. >On my side of the river lay a slot about five foot deep, the far side >was a shallow fast flowing flat, well oxygenated. As I watched the >flat, I noticed two dark shapes in the water, moving occasionally. A >spawning pair of steelhead, I thought. Slipping into the river, I >crossed the fast current slightly upstream of a fast rapid, and slowly >creeped up the flat. The spawning pair spooked off into some nearby >structure, and my eyes crisscrossed the flat, searching. >Slowly, the techniques I had learned for spotting trout in New Zealand >came back to me, and as still as a hunting heron, I watched. I >eventually noticed a shape holding in a foot of water in the lee of a >small rock, and took a few steps forward. Is that a fish, I thought? >Another two steps. Looks like a fish, I mumbled to myself. Slowly I >slid into position, the same as I would stalking a New Zealand South >Island brown. The shape lay just within casting range, not close enough >to spook in the shallow water, and five feet to the right of it. Make >the first cast count, I told myself, as I stripped out line. >It was perfect, I couldn't have asked for a better cast. The indicator >went down, and for a second, my fatigued mind just stared at it. I set >the hook, and the world exploded. I was hooked into my first steelhead >on a fly. Upstream she ran, then down as I palmed the reel and applied >side pressure in a feeble attempt to stop his descent. Unaccustomed to >a 13 foot spey rod and 8 pound Maxima, I was amazed at just how much >pressure I could actually apply. She ran, of course, straight for the >nearest log jam, directly below me. I felt the sickening feeling in my >stomach when you realise that the weight at the end of the rod is >static, not moving. She had wrapped me around a tree limb. I'm done, I >thought. >I had one chance, a trick I had learned in trout fishing years ago, and >it was only a slight chance. I slid slightly downstream of her, and >holding the rod sideways low to the water, I let off the pressure, >praying she would swim out. Nothing happened for what seemed like an >eternity, and then I felt the head shaking. > It was about this time that I looked downstream to see a >large log jam, covering nearly the entire width of the river. I know if >she made it to that, I would be finished for sure. For a few tense >moments I applied side pressure, and managed somehow to beech her in the >shallows. I guestimated her at around 6-7 pounds and 28"(measured >against the rod), not particularly large as steelhead go, but I was >beaming. She wasn't chrome, but wasn't dark either. As I released her >and watched her kick effortlessly upstream, I realised, she would do. I >had caught my first steelhead on a fly. > > >Ryan Davey >worldanglr > >Calling Fly Fishing a hobby is like calling Brain Surgery a job. >- Paul Schullery > > >
