An Embarrassing Display...

Orvis Clearwater 8-weight 10' Fly Rod- Fishing (Google Affiliate Ad)Well, I went up to Altmar to fish steelies on the Salmon River with my brother Doug and friend and guide Scott Glazier. I love the December fishing, as the crowds subside and there are nice steelhead in the upper river. It’s not a fast and furious bite like the spring run, and fish are transitioning into winter patterns, but the chances for both large fish as well as incoming fresh fish abound. Water was finally up as the power company increased the flow from below 250-300cfs to about 750+cfs Friday evening. Two weeks ago we were bumping ass down the river, now we had some water. Of course, these fish are sensitive to change, which can challenge anglers not out fishing the river almost daily. Scott is excellent, and put us on a number of good fish Saturday. If you are only used to the salmon runs, or the spring steelhead runs, this may not be the type of fishing you are accustomed to. Rarely are you going to hook dozens of fish, so you have to make hookups count. I went O’fer seven (0-7), in an embarrassing display of how to lose fish. Now, Scott describes my brother’s fishing skills as “unique,” which is a polite way to say he doesn’t fish regularly and often does most everything wrong. However, last Saturday he landed his first two fish, including one really nice steelie, while I dumped fish after fish.

Doug with a nice steelhead.

What I love about steelhead fishing are the battles, and the fact that the odds are often stacked against you. Many anglers would consider the light line class, small hooks and flies almost absurd for tackling aggressive fish that can run up into the double digits. I don't care how good you are, you will lose a lot of fish even when you do everything "right." Compound these factors with mistakes, and say bye-bye to your trophy steelhead. If I could find a way to screw up Saturday, I did. Lost the first when after struggling to turn it back upstream, it shot straight towards and past me before I could recover enough line. Hit the end of the slack and GONE. Lost number two, a nice fresh looking chromer, in a submerged limb.

Picture from an earlier trip with a nice, fresh, right off the Lake chrome steelhead, or chromer.

Number three went the same way. Number four I was screwing around with the tangle I had in my working line loop when Mr. Fish hit. I was completely unprepared, unable to get tight on the fish, and goodbye number four. Bye this time, I was getting pretty annoyed with myself. Snagged the bottom again with my fly or weight (this happens fairly often). Between the rocks, trees and lost gear, there is a lot to get hung upon. Unable to work it lose, I resort to thumbing the reel and backing up to pop the line instead of my rod tip. Line pops free. As I start to reel in, WHAM. Fish on, fish off. Bent hook, likely from freeing the snag. Let's see, that was number five. A few leaps expose six to be a real nice, big, fresh chromer right off the Lake. It leaps, turns and heads down stream. After a patient battle, I'm able to slowly start working her back towards me. This is slow going, not wanting to rush the process. I finally get the fish out of the current and only feet away. I'm backing slowly towards a pocket of slow water to land her in. Glancing over my shoulder, I realize my brother is standing there filming with no idea my fish is headed straight for his legs. I yell at him to watch out, he proceeds to lurch out of the way, the fish freaks out and leaps in the air and now is downstream facing me, and the hook pulls. My brothers response? "The line never touched me. How many fish is that?" Number seven? Who the hell knows. Did everything right and the fish got off. O'fer seven. I have yet to see my brother's video. Should have him walking over my fish. I'll post it when he does. Had time to fish Sunday morning before driving back to CT. Didn't break my neck to get out, as crowds were sparse and the fishing hadn't been picking up until and hour or so after dawn. I wanted to redeem myself after Saturday's outing. I made a vow to Scott that I wasn't leaving until I had a fish. I think everyone on the river was in the Schoolhouse, so I started a bit lower. After an hour with no bites, I moved even further to the pocket I had hooked most of the fish in Saturday. I began to notice that the flow was decreasing, and two more hours later, still not a single hit. Made one last stop at a location I have never not gotten a hit in, and still drew a blank. By now, you could see a six to eight inch water line on the rocks. It was looking like a tidal river. The flow at the dam had been cut way back. Decided to call it a day, and was faced with a drive back to CT without having landed a single fish. Looks like I'm going to have to head back up during the holidays!