This River is Wild: $10 "Steelheader"

I'm a $10 dollar steelheader, baby that's a fact...

There's a particular Charley Crockett song entitled, "$10 Cowboy," that is incredibly catchy and well-written. Like you, I openly wondered what in the hell a $10 Cowboy actually was or is. Since the song's release, it's been a staple on my steelheading trips both near and far. In fact, I openly called the boys a bunch of $10 Steelheaders on our Deschutes camping trip. Like you, they were like, "what the hell is a $10 Steelheader"? That got me thinking about the makeups of either character and the traits they would exhibit. What would their respective lifestyles look like in the pursuit of their dreams? Is anyone actually a $10 Steelheader?

Well, to me, a $10 Steelheader is a self-made angler in the pursuit of anadromous fish. It is someone that lives a deliberate life that focuses on consistently putting themselves in the moment as much as possible. This is an angler that has put in a lot of work on improving their casting, fly tying, and fishing skills through trial and error. Rather than rely on someone else to show them the way with lessons and guiding, they've put in the time themselves through actual fishing time and their own personal experiences. When they book a trip, they aren't going to some fancy lodge where a guide takes them directly to the "spot," tells them how far to cast, at what angle, and when the fish is likely going to eat. This is someone who is scouring Google maps, tying too many flies, and living out of their vehicle on some backcountry road. Rather than paying for the moment, they are experiencing a journey through their own sweat equity. For them, the moments are the steps along the way, not just the end result. They value the time invested, the skunkings, the failures, and the missed chances because they know that when that fish is tailed it will be all the sweeter. Afterwards, they are appreciative of the experience and are humble. Numbers don't mean anything to them and they don't openly brag about length and weight. They don't really even care about it because they don't measure their fish. A $10 Steelheader doesn't have social media, doesn't do podcasts, and you probably don't even know they exist. They exist entirely in their own world perfectly at peace with the moment they find themselves in. Like the fish they pursue, they are a ghost.

Does that angler exist? I'm sure there are a few out there...

"Yeah, when I was out there on them river bends, learning to cast this spey rod, ten dollars was a whole lot of money. Steelheader. Steelhead swinger. Both highly addictive occupations. Look out!"

The Hoh

Ben Paull working the launch run...

The Cathedral

Remnants...

My flight was delayed until midnight. Once we loaded the plane we waited on the tarmac for over an hour to be de-iced. As soon as it was our turn, the pilots timed out and we were forced to deplane. Once off the plane, our flight was canceled. In the scramble and confusion with all the angry passengers, I immediately rebooked a different flight the following morning. With airtags in my bags, I could still see my bags on the canceled flight. I talked to multiple workers who assured me that my bags would make it onto my new flight. That didn't happen. After many phones calls, I was again assured that my bags would make the "next available flight".

Thus, I arrived in Seattle with nothing. After already missing a day of fishing, I decided to drive out to the Peninsula and try and borrow some gear. Ben and I were able to sneak in a half day of fishing on foot. That night, I was contacted that my bags arrived in Seatlle. So, I drove back the 3.5 hours to SEA-TAC and grabbed my bags before turning around and driving back again. I got about an hour of sleep before we floated a section of the Sol Duc. Although the ordeal absolutely sucked, I was thankful to end up with a day on the Duc and a day on the Hoh.