This River is Wild: Into the Realm of Possibility II

Believe...

A few years ago, I found myself with a morning of solo fishing on the Deschutes. I wanted one more session before I drove back home across the country to make it in time for the new school year. As I exited the canyon, I had a predetermined spot in mind to try my luck. I aimed to fish a mid-river seam that I lost a steelhead at a few days prior. In my attempt to wade out to it, I spooked a larger chrome steelhead in the micro tailout I was trying to cross. Unable to reach my intended location, I looked upriver and decided to try and fish the bank that the steelhead moved into. Back up on the road, the spot looked deep but definitely had the prerequisite characteristics of steelhead holding water. So, I descended down the bank, bushwhacked through some tall grass and stickers, and reached a classic Deschutes spot. I found myself waist deep with half my body in the grass. There was zero margin of error between standing in a casting position and going for a swim. On my first cast, I throwing my long leader out into the glassy current and my black muddler began skating quickly towards the grass. Unexpectedly, a large whooshing sound snapped me out of my stupor as a steelhead attacked my fly on the surface. The attempted eat was so aggressive that a wall of water splashed into the bank. I stood slack jawed in the silent aftermath of the encounter as that was the first time I raised a Deschutes fish on the skated dry fly. In that moment, I finally entered into the realm of possibility where a confidence inducing moment made me realize that there was, and will always be, a chance. It marked a pronounced shift in my confidence when it came to this river and the skater. That is sometimes all it takes for your perspective to shift. Despite the boost, I failed to hook a Deschutes fish on the skater over the next two years...

Nonetheless, I was persistent..

Quite the place...

Eat it...

Wish you were here...

Fast forward to the last day of my annual Deschutes trip in August of 2025. I was fishing with Phil "Little Knees" Kirkland and we unexpectedly overslept our alarms. To be more clear, I think we were both just hungover and tired from the preceding days of grinding. Packing up camp, we decided to find a few shady spots before calling it a trip. After a few miscues, mishaps, and gear problems, we descended down to one of the last areas of the river with shade. To be honest, after everything that had gone wrong with that morning, I wasn't expecting much to happen. On my first cast with a foam skater I raised a fish with an aggressive boil. Phil and I just looked at each other and I decided to change flies with a "comeback muddler". To be more specific, a variation of the famed Thompson River Caddis. Hitched, it would also skate perfectly across the surface but with a little less commotion compared to the Pom Skater. Once again, I raised the steelhead with my presentation and we both realized that we were dealing with a very active, happy, "player". I decided to switch up my angle on the next presentation in order to get a faster broadside skate. The next eat was a little more aggressive than the first two but the steelhead never came down with the fly signaling weight. I waited a little bit before making another presentation and this time, there was clearly weight on the end of my line. Phil squealed with a "YES! YES! YES!," and I squalled loudly. Once the steelhead realized that he was hooked, he launched himself into the air in a cartwheeling display of anger. I bucked up and lowered my rod to the side to put pressure on this fish and keep it in the immediate vicinity. I worked him in close a few different times and finally went for the tail grab. A brief handshake and a leader grab was all I got as a final surge of effort tossed the fly. I didn't care at all. The moment was all that I could have asked for and one that I had been thinking about for quite some time. Thus, I left the canyon and Oregon on a high note. One that would carry me until the next time I found myself riverside on the Deschutes.