TWAS THE WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS

TWAS THE WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Twas the WEEK before Christmas, when all through the RIVER;

Not AN ANGLER was stirring, not even a SNIFFER,

THEIR WADERS were hung IN THEIR ATTICS with care;

In hopes that SOME CHROMERS soon would APPEAR,

TO GO AND FIND FISH WOULD BE THEIR LAST RESORT;

SO THEY SAT HOME AND WAITED FOR A WEBSITE REPORT,

ON THEIR COMPUTERS THEY HOVERED LIKE SALMON ON REDDS,

While visions of ACTUALLY FISHING merely danced in their heads;

DOUBLE D, MR. STRIPER, AND DR. K TOO;

and all the other WANABEES WHO HAVEN’T GOT A CLUE,

PUT UP THEIR POLLS, FISH STORIES AND CHATTER

WHAT ARE THE REGS? OH I GUESS IT DON’T MATTER

Away FROM THE INTERNET I flew like a flash,

IT WAS HIGH TIME I DID A FULL-SPEED DASH,

WITH A GOLD SPOON DANGLING FROM NEW 8# TEST;

DOWNRIVER WAS CALLING TO GIVE HER MY BEST,

I CAST AND I SNAGGED AND I SNAGGED YET ONCE MORE;

THEN CAME A TAP AND A TAP-TAP AT THE DOOR,

ON THE VERY NEXT DRIFT WHAT SHOULD APPEAR?

IT’S A CHROMER, IT’S A CHROMER!

AND CHRISTMAS AINT EVEN YET HERE!!

Mark Lynn December 17, 2008

I pulled that quickly out of my hat while pondering all the losers on internet fishing sites who talk about fishing, dream about fishing, open polls about fishing, beg information about fishing, scour the net for reports about fishing...

BUT NEVER GET OFF THEIR ASSES AND FISH!

Yesterday was December 17, 2008.

The rain had fallen pretty consistently for the last 2 days and I was supposed to meet up with 'Wilson' in 'The Basin' to feed roe balls to the steelhead.

I woke up and went back to sleep. I woke again and was dreading the thought of making that long trek across the bridge, down the hill, and then dealing with all the idiot long-liners and stick fishermen who if removed from the basin and their 15 ft. leaders, wouldn't have a clue how to legitimately hook a steelhead...

Then there was the prospect of frostbitten hands and trying to make numb fingers grasp and pull out a tiny strand of line to form a loop and insert wet, sticky, soggy clusters of eggs into it before rinsing the residue from my digits in the near-freezing waters of the river.

I turned to grab my rod, my waders, and my vest and then instead, turned around and reached for a mug, a filter and a bag of French Roast.

By now it was 0830 and Ted would certainly have been in to his first of several fish by now and wondering... "Where the hell is Mark?"

I drank my coffee, had a bite to eat, put on some warm clothes and was still feeling a bit out of sorts so decided to take the road less traveled. To hell with the basin... I'll grab a box of spoons and a few swivels and be on my way. No backpack, no vest, no weights, no hooks, no roe. Today I would travel light and commit to using bent brass dipped in fine silver and gold.

"SPOON MAN
COME TOGETHER WITH YOUR PLAN
SAVE ME
FROM THE CROWDED MISERY"

I got to the spot at 0930. The time of day when "It's OVER!" by my fishing buddy's standards. He's one hell of a fisherman but he doesn't know as much as he thinks he knows...

Two prior days of rain, excess cold air and water temperatures, the river running at 950 CFS (about 1/4th. it's usual flow for this time of year) and a 'bluebird day' can only mean one thing... STEELHEAD HOLDING! It makes sense if you think about it. Steelhead are cued by rainfall to migrate upriver. When it rains, the fish move. When the sun goes down; especially around a full moon; (which we just had...) the fish move, under overcast skies the fish move. But on a sunny day with clear, cold water and the deep holes few and far between... the fish do not move, THEY HOLD!

I fished a likely spot for nearly an hour without a touch before deciding to move up river to a deep hole below a tailout. I got there and tied on my trusty 2/5 oz. gold BC Steele spoon. My first drift was abruptly stopped by a rock. I slacked the line, popped the rod tip and lifted the spoon out of its entanglement.

Second drift was a repeat of the first... NOPE... the rock didn't move; it was still in the same place. I suffered no casualties though and soon had the spoon wound back up to my rod tip. I stepped towards the run and made a third cast beyond the snag where I sensed I could get a clean drift and get down to the bottom fast enough for the spoon to swing and flash in the sweet spot at 1-2 o' clock. TUNK TUNK... I knew that was no rock but it did feel like a smaller fish. I should have swung anyway as in colder weather and water big steelhead will sometimes taste instead of swallow a spoon...

I threw to the same slot on my fourth cast and felt the WHOMP, WHOMP, WHOMP of fluttering brass and the KLOP, KLOP of the same brass banging a couple of small boulders as it slowly sank out in front of me. Somewhere in that split second between the lifting phase of the spoon and my anticipation of either free-spooling line to keep it down and in the zone a bit longer or just letting it swing to a stop... I GOT RAILED!

It was one of those decisive grabs; it happens so fast and so furious that by the time the hit transfers through the spoon to your line and from your rod to your brain, the fish is already boiling on the surface, ripping her head sideways and yanking line from your spool. It's that moment when the world around you ceases to exist and your attention is immediately and completely dialed in on the fish and the fight at hand.

There's no room for error and so the thoughts race through your head... "How is she hooked?" "Is there an abrasion nick 10 or 20 or 30 yards up my line from that boulder I've pulled on 2 and 3 casts ago?" "Did I tie a good knot" "Is the gate on my swivel closed?" These thoughts weave their way subliminally in and out of your consciousness between head shakes, surface-blasting tail wags, crocodile rolls and bulldog runs. You know it's a respectable fish and since you've had it pinned on a size 1 Gamakatsu siwash well beyond 'the 10 second rule'... it's PROBABLY going to stay buttoned.

And then you figure what the hell... better hit that fish hard once or twice...

I loosened my drag a tad and gave a fast, moderately-driving-punch set to the hook to sink it and as I did this my reel handle starts spinning wildly out of control knocking my knuckles and spewing line from my reel (DAMN SPINNING REELS...). Somehow, my anti-reverse decided it couldn't perform under a load, SHIT!

Fortunately, my knuckles slowed the handle's rotation and I only had one loop between my rotor and bail armature and I was able to free it without giving slack to the fish. I spent the next 3 minutes expecting the worst and hoping for the best. I ended up making lots of drag adjustments, walking downriver of the fish while palming the spool and eventually turning the bright hen's head without letting go of that reel handle which now served as a crank AND an anti-reverse lever...

Oh the drama... but in the end I had a 9# dime on the rocks.



If I had known how well the fish was hooked when I first set up on her, I could have avoided some unnecessary stress.



My siwash point had pierced her tongue from the top side down...



...and then double-stitched it from the bottom side up- and deep into the tongue- so it wasn't just the cold weather which had kept this girl from getting airborne during the fight.



I'm a fan of the fan tail:



First step in preparing steelhead roe from a hatchery brat...



It was nice to see that the rain had brought some fresh fish into the system. And the forecasts are showing good weather from now until Xmas.

PS: GOOD WEATHER to a steelheader = cloudy, rainy, cold and all of the things which normal (actually strange...) people hate.

That's all for now, hope to NOT see you on the river~;)
Mark