Sometimes You Just Have To Laugh At Yourself

I managed to get out for a couple of hours on one of my favorite stretches of water. It’s a spot where this time of the year offers more action than a half off sale on Black Friday. Rigging up the night before, I didn’t even agonize over the choice of streamer. All indications pointed to white, as the fresh push of steelhead still had shiners on their mind. Good choice, even if I did get in my own way for a bit.

Sure enough, within a few minutes of stepping in the water, I hooked and landed a strong male that exhausted itself with multiple runs up and down the pool. Too tired to thrash around, the chrome posed for a quick picture, and was released. I checked the knot and leader, making sure no nicks showed up that could weaken the connection. Everything looked fine, so I moved on to another spot.

Strong male with some nice color

 (Click on image for larger view.)

This close-up shows a nice hooked jaw. Its been around a few years.

There’s a stretch of water, probably 60 yards long, that has a deep slot where steelhead will lay waiting for their next meal. For the second time in a row I had the water to myself, so I waded to the head of the run and began the methodical cast, swing, step process. A few casts in and I snag the rig on a rock. Working it free without disturbing the water, I again checked the knot and leader. It all looked fine. Continuing to cast I made my way downstream. Something didn’t seem right. There are no guarantees when fishing but I should have gotten at least a bump through that stretch. I decided to reel in and move to another spot. It’s about this time I let out a sharp expletive, followed by laughter. After all, fishing is supposed to be fun, isn't it? Somewhere, somehow, the streamer came off. Inspecting the leader, there still weren’t any nicks, or the telltale curly tippet that exposes a failed knot. I can’t explain what happened or when it happened. I don’t know if I was streamerless for one cast or twenty. Normally, during the backcast I can see the streamer as it travels behind me. I must have zoned out because I can’t recall even watching the backcast.

After all that, I still went home a happy guy. Spent time on the water, caught a fish, and laughed at myself. Can you say that?

Go out and fool a fish!

Perfect Steelhead Weather

There is never a bad time to be on the water, but some days are just better than others. Yesterday was one of those days. Fishermen chasing steelhead around the Great Lakes in the fall and winter know that weather will play a part in their pursuit of chrome. Usually they can eliminate the sun, as it seems to appear as frequently as Halley’s Comet this time of the year. That leaves everything else on the table, and yesterday had just about everything else. And it was fun.

I was anxious to hit the river as the water was back to fishable levels after last weekend’s rain and snow. The bump in flows should have brought in some fresh steelhead. The weather forecast called for some rain coming in over the next few days, so I felt Friday morning was the best opportunity to hit the river.

The morning was perfect. Grey skies were dripping rain, snow and sleet like a leaky faucet. Fog shrouded the tops of the trees that were no longer bearing any color. When I arrived at the parking lot I was surprised that no other cars were there. That couldn’t be right. I expected to share the river with at least a half dozen other fishermen. Weather doesn’t keep steelheaders from their time on the water. Maybe I picked the wrong spot to fish?

Perfect day for steelheading but an empty river. Unusual for a Great Lakes tributary.

(Click on image for a larger view.)

Working my way downstream on the trail I came to another surprise. A beaver made his or her mark on a tree. A perfectly gnawed tree stood near my first fishing spot. One more night of work and that tree will be used to build an addition to a den.

A beaver has been very, very busy.

Continuing to walk downstream, I finally arrived at a series of pools that almost always hold fish. It felt strange to wade into the water, look around, and not see another fisherman. I knew it was just a matter of time before someone showed up so I made the best of my time and worked through the pools quickly. The first pool produced nothing. Then I noticed a few dead shiners laying in the water, and immediately switched from a dark color woolly bugger to a white one. At this point, the rain changed to wet snow. There was no wind, so the flakes gently hit the water like a well-presented dry fly. I had to take advantage of the perfect weather and an empty river.

Moving to the next pool I told myself there has to be fish in here. The pool had depth, structure and some current. Heck, I’d live there if I was a fish. After making a few casts I moved to the tail of the pool. The snow had changed back to rain and drops were now noticeable on the water. I made a cast to the opposite bank and let it swing across the tail of the pool. Just as the line straightened I felt the tug. The fresh steelhead made several strong runs. Getting it close, I reached with the net when it made another run, this time behind me. It made a move for a downed tree but I managed to steer the fish away from it. Finally, showing some exhaustion, it came to the net again. A nice, 25” hen found a temporary home in the bottom of the net. After a quick picture it was released to live another day.

The end to a perfect morning on the water.

There must have been something about yesterday and the color white. On the Facebook Steelhead group I belong to there were three or four other steelheaders who reported catching chrome on a white streamer or lure. What’s interesting is the rivers were 30 miles apart. Maybe the fresh steelhead were still keying in on shiners that are plentiful in Lake Erie.

Perfect comes in many different forms. My morning had perfect weather, no other fishermen, and fresh chrome.

Find your perfect.

Go out and fool a fish!