Willamette Steel At Last!

It was one of my best fishing days ever. I got up early, in order to make the 45 minute drive to Springfield by 5:30 AM. When I got to my older brother’s house, both he and my younger brother were waiting outside for me. They already had the boat hitched up. We were headed for the mighty Willamette River again. Two weeks prior I had hooked a steelhead and lost him and I had a good feeling about the prospects of hooking another steelhead or two today. Today was a special day because I was going to be fishing with both of my “Oregon” brothers, which unfortunately is somewhat of a rare event. I hope it becomes more frequent as time goes by. Since my older brother bought the drift boat, we have had the pleasure of fishing together a lot more often.

We were down at the boat ramp within minutes and launched the boat as the early morning darkness began to lift. My older brother jumped on the oars and we started across the river as I threaded a coon-stripe shrimp onto my hook. Then, in a somewhat uncharacteristic act of selflessness, I pilfered another from the small jar of brine and threaded it onto my younger brother’s hook, just below the black diver, menacing with it’s yellow eyes (I thought this was a nice touch). We let line out of our reels, closed the bail and then watched the tips of our rods to see if the action on the divers looked right. Not long after that we were on the other side if the river in some excellent looking water and… tap, tap, tap… I had a fish on. It wasn’t a steelhead, but it was a nice fish! I was not upset to reel in an 11 inch cutthroat trout. A great start to a great day. Things were definitely looking quite “fishy”, and what a beautiful morning it was. It was nice and cool at the moment, but promising to be another hot August day.

We drifted down a little farther, and at some point my older brother, between working the oars for us and offering up helpful tips to his amateur steelhead fishing companions, had tossed out his fly line and put his fly rod in a rod holder, letting an Irresistible Adams dry fly skid across the water’s surface about 6-8 feet past the end of the boat. As we approached the head of a big run, all of the sudden, SLAM… a fish nailed the Adams. A big fish was on momentarily, and oh what a strike! That really got me excited. This whole experience of drift fishing is new to me, I was amazed at how the fish had attacked the fly, just feet from the end of the boat. It made me feel delightfully optimistic of my future fishing success.

Not long after that, we continued fishing and SLAM… another massive strike on the fly nearly doubling the rod over to the water’s surface, peeling drag off the reel. This time the fish did not fail to impale the hook into it’s mouth and it was fish on! My brother removed the rod from the rod holder and began fighting the fish. He commented that it might be a small steelhead… it was that big, and heavy! He also commented that he was using a four pound leader and the fish was swimming in a substantial current, which amplifies the fighting power of the fish at the end of the line, so he had to be very careful not to break the line.

The fight continued on and I was determined to do all that I personally could to make sure we got that fish in the boat. I am a rookie at netting fish, but my brother told me to grab the giant salmon/steelhead net and prepare to net the monster. I pulled out the telescoping handle of the big net and followed my brother’s instructions, keeping the net back from the edge of the boat in order to avoid scaring the fish into another drag stripping run. He patiently and methodically worked the fish closer to the edge of the boat and when the fish was in range, I quickly scooped under and up with the net and swung it back into the boat. Success! It was a BIG, FAT rainbow trout, measuring 18 inches long. My brother commented that the fish was probably an old hatchery fish that was thriving in the big Willamette river, kind of surprising, but a pleasant surprise to be sure.

We continued fishing above the big run for a little while longer and then decided to go down to the next hole. So we raised the anchor and my older brother navigated us through the rapids.

Down below the rapids we continued down the middle of the hole. We saw two bank fishermen on the north bank of the river. When we got within earshot of the first he yelled out, “have you guys had any luck today?”, and all of the sudden, BAM, BAM, BAM… I had a fish on! I set the hook and tried to keep myself calm. I was determined to get this fish in the net. I immediately tried to loosen up my drag and let this fish do it’s thing. The problem was that the fish was apparently swimming towards me, so, I was trying to loosen the drag and reel at the same time. This is impossible to do unless you have a third hand. I thought I was doing ok, putting the right amount of pressure on the fish, but about six or seven feet from the boat the fish did some kind of underwater acrobatics and the line went slack. I was so mad! I was pretty sure that I would never, EVER catch another steelhead (my first and only steelhead was more than twelve years ago on the Siletz river). The opportunities to fight fish seemed to come so few and far between, and when I did manage to hook a fish, I couldn’t stay cool enough to make the appropriate maneuvers necessary to get them in the net!

I sat down in disgust (mainly with myself, partially with the rascally fish) and figured I had lost my only chance for the rest of the year catch a steelhead. But, I know you can’t catch them if you don’t have your hook in the water, so I checked my leader and made sure it wasn’t damaged, then I skewered another coon-stripe shrimp and tossed it into the current, letting the diver make it dance along the bottom of the mighty river.

It wasn’t but twenty minutes later on our next float down the big hole, when my younger brother set the hook and had a fish on! I was sure he was going to land this one, he seemed so much more calm and collected that I managed to be. He fought it for a few minutes and… all of the sudden the fish was off.

By this time my older brother was getting pretty perturbed by the number of fish that had been hooked and lost in his boat this year. I think by this time it had been six fish in a row.

Our hopes of catching a steelhead were diminishing, but we still had time, so there was nothing left to do, but keep fishing. We made a few more passes through the big hole and then my older brother asked us what we wanted to do. Did we want to make another run or two through the big hole and then go over to the far side of the river and fish a likely looking hole that none of us had ever fished, or should we go to the far side now?

I suggested we go to the far side of the river now. So, my older brother rowed the boat over to the shallow area in the middle of the river. It was so shallow, in fact, that the bottom of the boat scraped the rocks and we couldn’t continue on. So, my brother took off his shoes and jumped out of the boat. I’m sure the rocks felt real nice on the bottom of his feet as he dragged us across the rocks towards the South bank, where there was a very inviting, dark green run waiting for us. As we scraped along for a moment or two, we began to sense two pairs of eyes boring down on from the North bank. We figured those ol’ boys thought we were either crazy or were going to get really lucky fishing the other side of the river.

Once the scraping stopped, my older brother jumped back in the boat, put his shoes on and paddled us to the top of the hole. We began to drift down very slowly, allowing the divers and shrimp do their work. A little over half way down, when we got to the second or third bush that was sticking out over the water, all of the sudden, TAP, TAP, TAP… I set the hook and FISH ON! I wasn’t sure what I had at first. It wasn’t fighting as hard as the other steelhead had fought. I started to play the fish, with a good measure more of patience this time. At first my older brother didn’t believe I had a fish on. He thought this was just another of many snags that we had had during the day’s fishing. I assured him it was a fish, I just didn’t know exactly what kind of fish it was at the moment. I will be honest with you, for a moment I thought I might have had a large sucker on the line or a large cutthroat trout. But then I got a glimpse of the fish and I said, “It’s a steelhead!”

We weren’t messing around this time. I loosened the drag a little in case the fish decided to make a run, but when I saw the surprised look on the fish’s face, I knew that he didn’t know what was going on. So, I tightened up the drag a little more, still being cautious not to tighten it too much, and worked him gently, closer and closer to the boat. My older brother had the net in hand and, it seemed to all work out really well. The fish didn’t make any big runs, and like I said, I don’t think the fish even realized what had happened. My brother netted him and when he hit the bottom of the boat, that’s when he started “flipping out”. I, however, was the one that was doing the most “flipping out,” because I yelled out with glee and gave my older brother a hug a really made a fool of myself. I didn’t care because I knew my first steelhead in 12 years was now in the boat and wasn’t going anywhere. My brother asked me if I wanted a picture with the fish and did I want him to conk it on the head first, as it was still going crazy on the bottom of the boat. I said “you better conk him first, I am not going to take any chances with this fish.” So, when the conking was done I lifted him up with my hands through his gills and mouth and got several pictures with him on our cell phones. Unfortunately, my digital camera was about 3,000 miles away in Nicaragua with my wife and son. So, that’s the best we could do. Meanwhile, I noticed that the fish had some very sharp and large teeth that cut my hand pretty good, but I still didn’t care. I lifted him up for the ol’ boys across the river, who were watching from the North bank. I gave them a big thumb’s up and continued acting like a 9 year old for a minute or two. Until the excitement ebbed enough to sit down and go back to fishing.

We headed back to the top of the same run on the South side of the river and began to float it again, being sure that our chances for another fish were pretty good, seeing how none of us had ever seen a boat fishing this particular hole during the whole season. There had to be more than one in there, right? Well, we made it down the run a little farther, lining up with the next bush downriver from where I had hooked mine, and BAM, BAM, BAM, my younger brother had a fish on!

This fish was a little more crazy than mine and I would say my younger brother did an excellent job playing him. I got really concerned when the fish headed down river a bit and swam under one of the bushes that hung right over the water. We rowed downstream a little and got parallel to the fish. We could see him swimming in the water under one of the branches. Like I say, I got pretty worried by this and said, “Oh, crap!” But thankfully, my brothers stayed more calm. My younger brother began to patiently work him out from under the bush and I jumped on the oars to try to keep the her steady as my older brother netted her. And… she was in the boat!

A two steelhead day!
We also caught two or three other 10-11 inch cutthroat trout that day as well. I am really starting to like this drift fishing business.

My steelhead measured 27 ½ inches and if I remember correctly, my brother’s fish measured 26 ½ inches. What a great day!!!

Tight Lines! -nimrod243




-nimrod243

Getting Stuck on Fishing

One day, before I was as old and wise as I am now, I decided to go fishing at a pond outside of Harrisburg, Oregon. I arrived at the pond that afternoon in Dad’s little black Mazda pick-up and parked on the side of a little gravel road that runs along the edge of the pond. I had a great time fishing, catching lots of little blue gill and crappie until it began to get dark.
Since it was time to go home I made my way back to the pickup, started the motor and turned on the lights. When I turned on the lights, a great idea occurred to me; I could pull the truck off the little gravel road onto the dry mud and point the lights out onto the water to see if I could attract some fish and that way get in a little more fishing. So, I pulled off the road and shined the lights out onto the water. Well, I can’t remember if I actually did get any more fishing in that evening because after pulling off the gravel road onto the “dry” mud I realized it wasn’t so dry after all! I couldn’t back up the pick-up onto the road because the wheels where spinning in the slippery mud that lay under the layer of dirt that looked dry and navigable before I drove onto it.
Determined to get myself out of the mess, I began working the manual transmission from first gear to reverse, repeatedly spinning the tires forward and then backward in an attempt to gain enough momentum to “rock” the pick-up back onto the road.
This went on for several minutes and I was just about to give up when, in one last great attempt I gained enough momentum to back up onto the narrow little dirt road. But, in my excitement at finally achieving my goal, I failed to take my foot off the gas pedal in time, and when the spinning tires found superb traction on the dry gravel, the next thing I new, I had my back tires stuck in the mud on the opposite side of the road. This time I new I was stuck for sure and wasn’t going to get out on my own.
After a few futile attempts to free myself, I sat quietly for a moment shaking my head in unbelief and wondering about my sanity and the who, what, why, where and when of my circumstances. This was before I had the luxury of carrying a cell phone wherever I went, so I decided I had either better start walking back to Halsey, which was about ten miles away, or I could walk over to a house that was close by and ask to use their phone. Of course I decided to walk over to make the phone call for help, but as I walked in the dark I pondered seriously about whom I could call. For some reason I remember I didn’t want to call Dad to pull me out; probably because it was about 9:30 or 10:00 at night and he wouldn’t be too happy about the whole deal. So I decided I would call my friend Dustin Cherry to see if he could come and pull me out.
When I arrived at the little house where I hoped to make the phone call, I knocked on the door and a scared little old lady answered. In as kindly a fashion as I could, so as not to scare her or her husband even more, I explained my situation and asked if I could borrow their phone.
Somewhat doubtful, they pointed to the phone on the wall, giving me permission to go ahead. So I entered and made the phone call to Dustin and gave him the best directions I could to the place. I then thanked the kind old folks and went out to the highway to flag down my buddy so he wouldn’t pass the little dirt road that led to the pond.
It took him a little while but Dustin finally made it to where I was waiting. I hopped into his Dad’s little Dodge pick-up (which, funny enough, is the same little blue pick-up that Dad drives now) and we turned onto the little gravel road. I gave Dustin a few more details about the situation as we passed the pick-up that was stuck, laughing about how ironic it was that I had gotten stuck twice and commenting on how easy or difficult it might be to pull it out.
After passing the pick-up and traveling about 75 yards or so on the gravel road, Dustin looked for a place to turn around in order to pull me out, and have us both heading in the right direction to leave the pond. Before I could say anything about the seemingly obvious nature of the “dirt” on the side of the road, and before I could voice the seemingly un-necessary warning about the danger of pulling off the gravel road, Dustin suddenly drove off into what he thought to be a suitable place to turn around.
Well, you probably guessed by now, that the little Dodge pickup wasn’t going anywhere either. Even after I got out and pushed and pulled and used every resource I had at my disposal to get the little pick-up back onto firm ground, we had to give up and think of what to do next.
Of course, my desire to call Dad for help at this point was further diminished by the complicated circumstances in which we found ourselves. And of course, Dustin favored the fairness of his hide too, and didn’t want it tanned by his Dad either, so, we decided to call an un-suspecting brother of the our church, who lived nearby and ask if he could perform a covert operation, to save two knot-headed teenage boys who’d failed to exercise good reason in a series of unfortunate events.
I think Dustin must have had a cell phone with him because I don’t remember walking back to the little old folks house to bother them again, although the reason I don’t remember may be that it was such a traumatic experience that my memory of the second visit to their house has been erased from my mind, I don’t know, but the important thing is that we made the phone call.
Thankfully the brother from church consented and said he knew where the place was and would be here in a little bit. Now, regarding this brother of our church, suffice it to say, he is a kind and humble soul, a short and stocky man of middle age who seems to have “been there before.”
When the good brother showed up we ran to his pick-up and made sure that the first thing we told him was to avoid driving his pick-up off the gravel road.
Now, as I mentioned at the beginning of this story that all of this happened before I was as old and wise as I am now. Well this good brother quickly established the fact that through his years of experience he had grown in wisdom to a level substantially higher than that of two knot-headed teenage boys. He put his transmission in reverse and backed his old Dodge pickup about 50 yards along the gravel road and positioned himself to pull out Dad’s pickup, hooked up the tow chain, and successfully freed it, and then pulled out the second pick-up in rapid succession.
We were very grateful the help. We must have got him out of bed that night to come and help us, because he didn’t have his teeth in. We asked him to keep the facts about the evenings events to himself, and we’ll always remember how he assured us, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell nobody ya’ll was being stupid.”
--Tight Lines!-- nimrod243