Nor am I one of those pretentious assholes who tears up the river with a fish and screams out, "FISH ON! IT'S A CHROMER!! YAH STEELHEAD BA-BEEEEEEEEEY!!!" so that every guy on the river and even the bag ladies in the adjacent neighborhood turn and look at me fighting my fish.
BUT I do tend to get a bit angry and vengeful when someone acts in a less than respectful way on the river...
It was the first rainy, cold day after the opener and I got down to the river in no big hurry.
A few friends of mine were drifting roe or indicator nymphing on our side of the river. Few, if any fish had been caught all morning. I came down with only my heavy gear box. the one stuffed with $300 worth of spoons.
I walked up and down with a copper 2/5 oz. I often do well with copper on rainy days...
An hour went by and the masses started showing up on the opposite bank. A guide and his client slipped in to the line with Hyde drift boat in tow. They pulled up, got out and commenced to swinging bugs with spey rods.
I walked up to the faster water above the run in part to get away from the developing crowds and in part to put my spoon in some new water. I was casting across the river between the edge of the riffle and some slack water on a small shelf extension below an upstream island. It didn't take long before a young steelie found my polished silver spoon. The small fish put on quite a show for the guys on the opposite bank as it jumped and splashed the water out in front of them.
I walked down quickly to get the fish landed and free up the water.
After a couple fast photos and release, I made my way back up in to the slot and wouldn't you know... my slot wasn't MY slot anymore because the drift boat guide moved to within 3 ft. from where I'd hooked the fish.
I laughed, told myself a 'fly-fishing/guide joke' and moved back down river.
In my new spot, I was positioned exactly between the guide and his client. I couldn't cast to the opposite bank now and work the seam water. I mean I COULD but ethically speaking... I wouldn't because I'd be fishing on top of the fly guys or in their swing so I decided to put on one of the heavy STEE-LEE spoons and work the fast water closer to the middle.
I saddled up the 'vintage, brass fatty' with bright, roe-colored swashes on the sides and rolled it out there. I timed it so the drop wouldn't interfere with the guide's swing nor with his client's cast. One cast and only a few seconds later... a lil' chrome bullet hit the skies with a #2 sickle-siwash impaled in his upper lip.
Now, I'm not a spiteful S.O.B. but I was almost as happy to hook and fight that fish as I was to watch the dumbfounded look on said guide's face when it jumped and damn near splashed water on said client's fly rod...
It was cool to get one on a wobbler-type spoon which isn't my usual preference... sometimes you just got to show the fish something new or something very old that just looks like new. Jason was kind enough to snap a couple closeups of the old-skool Stee-Lee in the Steelie's palate before I sent him back.
The rain let up a little and the fly fishermen came out of the woodwork. Spey rods. fly rods, indicators, thingamabobs, floating lines, sink tips, nymphs, egg patterns, Simms waders, vests and other very fancy and expensive accoutrement.
One guy hooks a 12" half-pounder...
"WHAT PATTERN YOU GET IT ON" is bellowed from across the river...
"Copper John" is the touted hot (smolt) tip for the day...
More fly guys descend the cliff... like paratroopers falling out of the sky on a tactical reconnaissance... rank and file... they work their way like stormtroopers, down the bank with whips in hand...
TIME TO GO NOW...
Mark
1 comment:
If maybe you were able to cast a fly with skill you probably would not be such a passive aggressive dick when referring to fly fishing. A true steelheader after landing a fish would give up the run and move on instead of being a typical gear dude and whore a 50ft run for three hours.
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