The North
The North Umpqua is well steeped in the traditions and history of the swung fly. Known as the "graduate school" of steelheading, it has drawn anglers from all over the world to its unique emerald green pools, runs, and tailouts that flow over vast ledge rocks. The river is flanked by tall pines and volcanic features that add to its overall beauty and appeal. Old school legends like Zane Grey and Jack Hemingway, and more modern ones like Lee Spencer and Frank Moore, have all waxed poetic about the river over the years and have done a lot to protect it. Almost forty miles of the river is a "fly only" section that requires anglers to basically only fish a dry line. That is highly appropriate for the surface oriented summer steelhead that call the water home. It also provides them a catch and release "sanctuary" of sorts as they wait out the high water of the fall. These fish are special, and like others in the region, are threatened by a host of natural and human variables, including the god awful Winchester Dam. The North's beautiful wild steelhead hold in deep waters along ledge rock, their surface orientation and preference for a skated fly produces a moment in fly fishing that is hard to replicate elsewhere. Combining that moment with the surrounding beauty is what creates the vast appeal and continually brings anglers back each season.
Renowned PNW guide, Rich Zellman, once said that the North Umpqua has a habit of providing a "gift" to anglers plying its waters for the first time. I was a recipient of one such gift, as I had a beautiful hen smash my skated muddler in the tailout of Log Pool about 90 minutes into my first ever session on the river in 2021. That moment left an indelible impression upon the direction of my future fly fishing pursuits. That summer on the North produced only 400 or so summer steelhead on the river due to high temperatures, drought, and intense fires that took out most of the Umpqua's surrounding forests. It forced me to heavily self-reflect on my angling pursuits and the value of a single fish. I've been back a few times since, but was never able to bring another steelhead to hand like I had on that early day one dawn. I've had several chances, but never sealed the deal. The river and its silver kept calling me back. On the morning of my 39th birthday, I found myself driving to the river. The only gift I wanted was a dry fly chrome steelhead out of the confines of this iconic river...
