I awake to the sound of my alarm at 5:30 this morning. I am so comfortable and content listening to the rain hit my window that I contemplate lying in bed until the early hours of the afternoon... I have been battling a nasty head cold for a while now and running on 4 hours of sleep I contemplate calling my fishing buddy Tony to tell him I won't be making it out... But that's crazy talk! Despite the fact the last few trips have been skunked, I recite to myself a cliche line that fishermen who don't catch fish tell themselves "a bad day at the river is better than a good day at the office". I jump out of bed, get dressed and saunter downstairs for some food.
I check the FWR site for water condition updates... but then realize it's 6am on a Sunday and Chris probably hasn't been out for a look yet
So instead I look at the weather forecast and water hydrographs... everything looks like it will be in tip-top shape, the river having come up a bit over the past few days, and the modest amount of rain forecasted to fall on the 'wack later that day. If things are not favorable, I figure i'll give the ****** or the ****** a try.
I get to the parking lot of the run I am supposed to meet Tony at shortly after 7:30. I am a bit late, so he has already started. I make my way down to liaise with him and other members of the morning crew.
It isn't long until a guy in our vicinity is in to fish. A short battle and a nice wild doe of about 10 lbs comes to hand. What a chrome bar, I think to myself. How I'd love to bring one of those beauties to hand today...
Things slow down after this fish is taken. We decide to move on.
The next piece of water, like most of the river on any given weekend, has clearly been pounded hard. We figure it's worth a go nevertheless and work a variety of different presentations: roe, worms, single eggs, gooey bobs, etc. Nothing.
I might add that this is the same run that Tony hooked a fish the other day in and lost; after feeling the bottom while being steered into shore - like most steelhead do - the fish decided he wasn't quite ready for bed and made a run for it. Without any chance for either of us to react, the fish made a beeline for an underwater log and that was the end of the fish.
After pounding this stretch for a good half hour, we decide to move on. But then a fellow nearby, close enough for us to hear say "fish on" hooks one; a wild buck of about 14 pounds. Absolute chrome slab. Very exciting to watch, this fish completed a variety of different acrobatics before agreeing to come to shore... only the angler is under the impression he and the fish are running a marathon across the rocks
Although the fish does make significant gain and almost wins the race, the angler must have been misinformed; steelhead are not air breathers nor can they run very well across dry rocks. Despite this, he figures this is a great time for a photo op. Half a dozen pictures later and the fish is on it's way. "These wild fish sure do take a beating" Tony says. I agree. If only the FWR board members were here, I thought, they would set him straight.
After flogging the water for some time, Tony decides to move on. I tell him i'll come with, but he tells me to stay behind as he's just going to look around the corner at how many guys are there and tell me if its worthwhile. "Ok", I thought, i'll just wait here and flog away...
I have been using the same presentation of a Jensen egg and white wool for some time now. I would not complain if I get snagged at this point as it's about time to switch up to a worm, a bait I usually cycle through a run last just in case it has a spooking effect on any fish that may lie in wait. Another saying comes to mind "if you're not fishing the snags, you're not fishing the fish". So I toss the jenny on top of this log, knowing full well I will more than likely get snagged. The float drifts parallel above the underwater log, the same one which Tony's fish broke off on the other day. The float is pulsating back and forth as the lead taps against the log. What color worm should I use next? I pondered.
Right at the end of the log, in about two feet of water the float falls sideways and then stops before being pulled gingerly underwater. Oh well, I thought. I saw this [snag] coming. So I do the obligatory solid yank one would do in attempt to free their snag. Similar to a hookset, I guess but not quite... OR.....
Instead of yanking up and feeling a solid dead weight, I yanked up and saw a flash of bright silver...then the "snag" shot out into the middle of the run... what the
... FISH ON!!! ANTHONYYY! I screamed at my friend to come down, I couldn't believe it. My pinkie engaged the clicker and that sweet sound of line peeling off the black islander steelheader filled the air.
After a few minutes of battle, a transparent 7lb or so hatch doe came to hand. As it was only 9 in the morning and my first steelhead in years, I had no desire to kill it. After a few pictures with the fish fully submerged and a quick hero shot, I turned her right side up and with a quick flick of the tail she was gone. What a great feeling.
After I sat down on a rock, looking at the pictures with the biggest s*** eating grin on my face you could possibly imagine. Did that just happen?
Hundreds of dollars spent in fuel, well over 80 hours spent steelhead fishing without a single touch, all for a 20 second handshake/photo op. It was worth every second and every penny, and would gladly spend any number of hours just for another 20 second hand shake any day. The sickness I woke up with this morning was no head cold. It was steelhead fever.
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Topic: Chilliwack River, March 4th 2012 (Read 2036 times)