In the winter of 1781-1782 Mt. Hood erupted sending hot pyroclastic flows and a lahar down the Sandy River basin radically altering the landscape. The lahar filled the river’s channel and covered an old growth forest with 26 ft. of volcanic ash, mud, sand, and debris. When Lewis and Clark arrived at the river’s delta entering the Columbia, the river was still recovering from the immediate aftermath of the eruption and devastation of the lahar. Therefore, the name they gave this system reflected what they saw and learned from indigenous tribes. The river has since reclaimed its bed but the remnants of the Old Maid eruption period are still highly visible when floating down the lower sections of the river as it carves its way towards the Columbia. The river’s native steelhead populations, like they have for eons, adapted to this changing environment because the eruption is a naturally occurring process. On the other hand human industrialization, clearcutting, hatcheries, and the damming of the river had a much larger negative impact on the system and the entire PNW. Nonetheless, the steelhead persisted. Over the years, I heard a lot about the Sandy River and was always looking forward to one day fishing it.
Over the new year, I was fortunate to spend the first few mornings gearing up in the dark surrounded by moss covered trees and the sounds of a high Sandy River. With each passing minute, new light illuminated the day’s playground and conditions. Having never been on the Sandy, each bend revealed rapids, runs, and buckets to swing through with the ever present hope that my fly would intercept with a steelhead’s journey. It was a constant state of optimism and anticipation. As John Buchan once said, “a perpetual series of occasions of hope”. Looking back on it, the river, and the hunt, are all just one big metaphor for life and the new year ahead.
My steelhead buddy, Phil, lives in Portland and he picked me up at the airport. It was a long overnight trip from Philly and he had a six pack of cold Rainiers waiting for me in the front seat. I openly wondered if everything simply tastes better on a fishing trip or if it’s actually a legitimately good beer. In my experience, I believe it is the latter. We had a few hours to play, so we dropped some luggage at his house and drove to the river. An hour later, we were hiking into a section to swing a few runs. I’m always excited to see a new river and whether or not my expectations, and perceptions, align with reality. In this case, I was pleasantly surprised by how “coastal” the river appeared despite being more in the interior. By coastal, I am referring to the moss covered trees reminiscent of a Dr. Seuss novel. Despite being so close to Portland, the river, and its surrounding environment looked entirely different than I had anticipated.
With it being New Year’s Eve, it would have been too good to be true to catch a steelhead within a few hours to ring in the end of 2024. Nonetheless, my line came tight to life in a deep bucket that I was probing with a multi-density line, T-14, and a tungsten Dirty Hoh fly. After a few headshakes the fish began running directly at me and for a brief few moments, I wondered if I had indeed hooked a steelhead and whether or not the fish was about to turn and go ballistic. Reality quickly revealed a new species, a pikeminnow. Invasive to the area and a menace to wild smolts, I was about to put it out of its misery when a Portlandia couple emerged on the river bank. Rather than bonk the fish, I ended up letting it go to avoid hurt feelings and the questions most likely to follow. A quaint party with good booze and smoked prime rib rang in the holiday but the river, and a 5 am alarm, beckoned in a few hours.
We launched at first light the following morning in borderline conditions. I was told there’d only be a few sketchy spots, and mostly there were, but I was still surprised when the pontoon in front of me disappeared into a wave train as I followed in the Watermaster. Beautiful scenery and water followed with an amazing shore lunch of leftover meat and tacos. At the end of the day, I repeated the previous evening’s feat. Thus, my last fish of 2024, and first of 25, was a pikeminnow on the swing. In both instances, I was fooled into believing that I had hooked a steelhead. This time, I ripped the pikeminnow’s gills out and left it for the eagles. Overall, this stretch of water was magical and I’d like to float it again in lower conditions. Until then, I’ll dream of a particular boulder strewn run, a good swing, and a hard grab. If you know this section, you already know what I am talking about.
Day two found us on a lower section of river. It was a whole lot of floating, casting, bird watching, casting, bullshitting, hiking, casting, drinking, and repeating. Each cast came with the hope that our lines would suddenly come tight to life. Having spent several days getting skunked on the SR immediately preceding my flight, my confidence was wavering. It rained heavily the entire day and the temperature dropped into the 30s. My waders, that were already weeping coming into the trip, slowly gave way to full on leaking. My lower extremities were soaked and my rain jacket wasn’t doing me any favors. Jet lagged, cold, wet, and aching I tried to keep my swing as consistent as I could. In this situation, it can be easy to lose faith in the process of swing, step, repeat, especially when you have multiple days of skunkings stacked up, like I did, before this trip. Nonetheless, we kept grinding through the pissing rain fishing good water well.
Day three was a full on repeat of day two with a slightly higher river and warmer air temperatures. On this day, we were able to slide into a popular run that was occupied on the previous day. I found my fly hunting through classic steelhead water when I had my first grab in a long time just as it came over a shelf on the river bottom. There was no mistaking what happened and I looked back at Phil to let him know what happened. I stepped back a few feet and made my next class at a higher angle to bring my fly through the same area broadside with a little more speed. Two grabs and slack happened during the first half of the swing. As my line approached the hand down, a third grab with some tension resulted in me setting the hook hard. The scene that unfolded won’t be forgotten as a large slab of chrome erupted from the water breaking the calmness of the run and the tapping of a steady rain. We danced the dance. I eventually grabbed a tail to admire a fresh steelhead. Its life experiences and journey were clearly visible on its dome and body. I was so stoked, that I didn’t even realize that it was a hatchery fish until I let go of the tail. A euphoric state followed with some victory whiskey.
I’m a strong believer in river karma. Phil, his girlfriend Nat, and their dog, Peaches, graciously hosted me over a holiday and treated me like a king. Fine food and drink sprinkled with escapades in town. On the river, Phil showed me the way, granted first pass, cooked, and let me choose sections of water. After my connection, it was my turn to concede to Phil. On the following day, we set up for lunch which was hot ramen and dumplings. Phil tried to convince me to fish the tailout because I had not yet done so on the trip. I said no way, go for it. It was the juice and we both knew it. As it usually happens, the big pull happened when we were least expecting it. No soft grabs here but a full on aggressive grab. Phil maintained composure when his line went slack as the wild chrome blitzed directly at him. Cradling the fish revealed battle scars and fresh wounds from hungry seals. Phil was stoked as he released one of many winter fish he’s landed this season. The Modelos and whiskey flowed after this one.
With a half day left before my flight, we decided to hike into a spot. The “trail” traversed the edge of a cliff going in and out of a swollen river, over a waterfall, and across a side channel that was borderline. We got two runs in as the river continued to rise from the previous day’s rain. While belly button deep and standing in willows, I had an awkward hang down eat that I prematurely set the hook on. A brief connection that would have been too good to be true and very difficult to land. When we hiked out, the side channel revealed just how much the water rose over the course of the morning. An entire half foot. We both went swimming on the way back.
I had a red eye to Philly that landed at 5:30 am just as a major snowstorm was hitting. On this occasion, I didn’t have to rush around too much. School was canceled, which meant I got to go to bed instead of heading straight to work.
Setups on this trip:
NAM 7137-4 "Megatron"
VR Salar Incomparible
Rio Gamechanger F, H, I, S3 525
NAM Hazumi 40 lb.
Burkie 8128-4
Loop Classic 7/9
Bridge Torrent 550 or Nextcast Zone 2d 575
NAM Hazumi 40 lb.
Burkie 8121-5
Farlex 3 3/4"
Bridge Torrent 550 or Airflo FIST 540
NAM Hazumi 40 lb.
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