Swinging flies for wild west coast steelhead is a difficult proposition that is well known within our little niche of a sport. With declining population numbers from a myriad of circumstances, the chances of encountering one of these elusive anadromous trout has dwindled, especially when faced with the climatic changes from a warming planet. For a fish that doesn't eat when entering freshwater, it can also be challenging to illicit the necessary reaction to trigger their predatory instincts from their time spent in the ocean and as a smolt. So for a two handed angler swinging some feathers on a hook, it takes a lot of time, effort, and energy to find the intersection of all the variables at play. If one's life does indeed cross paths with the migration of a steelhead, will your cast be pure? Will the angle of presentation and the speed of the fly get noticed by the fish? Will the fly even matter? Will the steelhead make the final commitment to the fly or peal off never be seen again? Will you stay patient and wait for the weight of the fish or blow the hookset? If hooked, will you be able to keep the fish pinned on a barbless hook or will it shake free on a jump, head shake, or landing attempt? There are so many variables and obstacles to overcome for a few precious seconds admiring one of the prettiest fish on earth. For some, this challenge defines their angling adventures. For others, they are simply hoping to catch one. It is one of our sport's white whales...
My buddy Austin is a seasoned fly fishermen and an industry professional. I helped introduce him to fly fishing back in our college days and eventually got him into his first "steelhead" on the swing. It was a Great Lakes fish, but that moment lit a spark for him and changed his migration in life. He moved from the east coast to the west coast, settling in the heart of lower 48 steelhead territory. He's worked for Columbia, Danner, and now Grundens which has afforded him plenty of opportunities and travel. This has resulted in him catching a bunch of steelhead on fly and gear across the west coast. However, his white whale has been the Deschutes. For whatever reason, he hasn't been able to seal the deal on a Deschutes fish on a swung fly over 38 fishing days. He's been at it for years individually, with friends, with guides, industry partners, and significant others. He's watched plenty of others had their opportunities and blown most that came his way. It became a running joke of sorts within my steelheading friend group that Austin would get skunked again or miss his next chance in some crazy circumstance. I've personally witnessed him hook several fish on the swing on the Deschutes, but they've always come unbuttoned. Needless to say, but I wanted to be there when it finally happened just to see his reaction to the moment and the resulting release of emotions.
During Austin's pursuit of his white whale, a lot was going on in his personal and working life. This added some additional weight in waiting for his time to come. Those thirty eight fishing days on the Deschutes were spread out over multiple years. With each passing trip, the pressure accumulated and the confidence began to waver. All of us were yearning for the moment to happen and that usually isn't a recipe for it actually happening. Like a musky eating when you least expect it, or a steelhead revealing itself only when where your mind wonders to a specific place, moments in fishing usually occur when you're least expecting it. A moment came for Austin late in the morning at a classic stop sign hole. Austin was in the key position letting his fly swing into the the apex where a steelhead will stop to chill, or pause, before making its way up a rapid. The fish ate and peeled line off his reel for several seconds before randomly popping off. Another heartbreak in a string of them...
Austin's moment came on the following day. Fishing with Caleb and Luke, they were working their way down a deep boulder strewn bank rock hopping with life jackets. On a mid-river seam, Austin was fishing a sink tip and a prom dress. Not the most traditional set up for summer steelhead, but apt for the mid-day sun and slow conditions. Also...so Austin. His line came tight and a nice steelhead went berserk eventually wrapping Austin's sink tip and leader around a submerged boulder. Luke sprung into action, swimming out to the boulder and diving down to untangle the mess. Eventually, the fish worked its way free and the battle resumed. The boys were stoked and Luke tailed the slab of chrome for Austin who let out a range of emotions captured in the video stills at the end of this post. A verbal translation:
Luke: "I'm so happy for you dude"
Austin: Hahahahahaha, OHHHH my god...the JOURNEY, fuck"
"The Deschutes has me now..."
With those words, Austin pushed off the bottom onto his back and began floating with the current of the Deschutes, his white whale finally vanquished, and his Deschutes journey finally completed. Nobody knows how long he floated for, but we found him on the side of the road on our way back to camp drinking a six pack of cold Rainiers still beaming ear to ear from his moment. His time had finally come...
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