Long Overdue, Winter Part 2

For the first half of Winter I primarily fished the upper river. After awhile the crowds and drift boats became a bit too much. I spent the latter half of the season in peace and quite covering the lower river in search of willing participants.

This was probably my most enjoyable time on the river. Long periods of casting interrupted by violent grabs followed by ridiculous laughter on my part to be witnessed by no one but myself.

Good times were had...

Ice, Snow, and Steel

After a personally disappointing Fall Season on the river the steelhead gods began to show me some sympathy. My winter season proved to be one that I’ll never soon forget. As the flows began to stabilize so did I. I spent some of my time on a stretch of river that I'm quite familiar with, it’s only drawback is that 10,000 other anglers are too. Swinging flies in a combat scenario can be unnerving at times, but the reward is there for the taking if you keep your head in the game.

Winter Jaunt

A solo mission north for two days of swinging flies was met with unseasonably warm temperatures. With freedom from ice in the guides, I took advantage and fished a skagit line for a little more fun casting and some much needed practice. I kept the tips on the lighter side and flies in the 2-3 inch range hoping to entice a fresh winter chromer into taking a fly. In the shallower sections, I switched it up to a scandi and went with a mono leader and a small wet fly. The lower temps resulted in a few periods of snow intermixed with sleet and freezing rain. It had been awhile since I fished gloveless on a steelhead river, so I enjoyed the two "warm" days…

Fall In Full Swing

As I sit and write this it’s currently January 27th. It just so happens to be one of three weekends I went without swinging flies on the Salmon River since the last week of August. The only reason I’m not there is because Mark had persuaded me to attend the show in Somerset NJ. Between a full-time job and swinging flies from sunrise to sunset two days a week I rarely get to open a computer.

Back in August through the first two weeks of October I fished for Kings on the DSR. In my time spent there I befriended a season pass holder who also believed in “swinging or going home”. The last weekend I fished the DSR there were steelhead pouring in from the estuary and we stepped down a few runs together, both of us were rewarded.

A Confidence Day

Outside of one day swinging for king salmon in early September, I didn't get to fish with one of my best friends. Different work schedules have a way of making that happen and so we fished individually for a few months. Those few months were filled with a complete void of pictures from the photographer in the pair, and a lot of selfies for Adam, who was able to spend more time than ever walking the snow covered banks of the Salmon River swinging for steel. In late December, the stars aligned and we had the river mostly to ourselves. It ended up being quite the day, as several new variables in our approach produced one of the best days we've had in quite some time. 

Los Quatros Amigos

Three buddies and I traveled north to Pulaski for some true winter steelheading in typical Great Lakes conditions. The temperature was low and over the course of two days, it rarely stopped snowing. Each morning we awoke to 6-8 inches of snow that added onto the few inches received throughout the day. The temperature and wind resulted in frozen reels, lines, and flies, but we overcame that to have a successful trip. For my three buddies, it was their first time on the Salmon River chasing steelhead and they were able to experience some scenic conditions. Two of us focused on indicator fishing, while the other two swung flies. Both methods worked and we were able to get into a few slabs in the midst of a snow covered landscape.

A Big Fish Tale

In 2008, I made my first fly fishing trip to the Great Lakes tributaries to target steelhead. I began with 7 hour trips to Erie and later branched out to the equally far Western Ontario tributaries near Oak Orchard. When I finally fished the larger water of the Salmon River, I knew that it offered a lot and was close enough for multiple trips. As the years progressed, the number of excursions began to increase into the high single digits. My fishing techniques began to vary as I branched out with switch rods and later spey rods. In the past two years, I haven't fished any other water besides the Salmon, and almost exclusively swing flies or go home. Fueling my inspiration and sleep deprived ventures, was the thought of catching the "one," a large steelhead of my dreams, which can be hard to come by in the non-native hatchery stocks of the Great Lakes.

Swinging for Kings

There are very few moments in fly fishing that can compare to a migratory fish slamming a wet fly on a tight line swing. This moment is only amplified when a king salmon, fresh on his way upriver, decides to have a go and rip the cork out of your hand. Experiencing a big pull has been known to change fishermen's lives and make grown men shake in the knees.  This singular moment has changed our entire style to the point where we cannot experience the tributaries any other way. It literally became a game of swinging or going home.

Suicide Kings

Back in August when news came of the first few salmon trickling into the Salmon River my focus on gold quickly turned to silver. In July and August I experienced the toughest carping ever. So the news of fresh chrome had me excited to say the least. After working twelve hours a day for six days, I hopped in my car for the four hour drive.. to fish for twelve straight hours on zero sleep. You got to do what you got to do...

I fished the DSR for two days straight where there were more people than salmon in the river. But none the less I had a fantastic time. The fish were few and far between and very spooky. My first day I swung the lower section hoping to locate a few fresh fish. Despite there being more people than salmon I still had entire runs to myself. I'd work my way down a run with one fly, walk back up and switch flies to do it again. Around noon I had lost all hope with the high sun and blue bird skies. I had only seen one fish move through all day. Since quitting is never an option while fishing, I swung on. It was around one o'clock when I felt it... Bump, Pull, Weight, Thrash... Holy Shit. My first king of the year grabbed a small pink comet on my first swing past a fishy looking log jam/undercut bank. After thrashing its way out to mid river it decided to go back to its holding lie. It streaked underneath the log and undercut and came back out at the top of the run with four of five other kings along for the ride, safety in numbers I suppose. I tailed the fish and gazed up and down river... Not a single soul in sight. It was magical. Later in the day I did find a small group of fish in a tailout that were so over worked through out the day they would scatter every time my fly swam past.

Day two I tried a different strategy. I started at the top of the "run" and worked my way down actually looking for fish instead to swinging empty runs and wasting my time. Its not as exciting as getting a take that your not expecting but I gave it a shot. There were ones and twos moving through fast water areas and staging in the tail out of the next run/pool. Since I had the river pretty much to myself again I watched these fish move up and let them rest in the tail out for ten minutes or so then I'd show them the goods. They were stubborn for the most part, ignoring my fly on every swing. Then there was a player. The fish tracked my wet fly for two feet or so my first pass at it. I got so pumped I shot another laser down and across and watched as the fish commit to my fly. I watched "the tug" from start to finish, it was pretty sweet. It was the only fish to commit on day two, but a one fish day is a good day.

See you on the river...

12' 7 wt. Cross S1 did some awesome work...

Judging by this fishes' mouth it was caught a dozen times out in the lake, but still willing to grab a gaudy wet fly.

Single Digits

As the alarm sounded and we began to wake up from our two day fishing comas, we quickly realized that it was a little different outside. Arriving from Canada was a cold front that erased the 30-50 mph winds and snow from the day before and replaced it with single digits. In addition, the river was raging around 1300 cfs. We decided to head back to bed for a few hours. 

When we arrived the lower fly zone parking was pretty desolate save for a few locals gearing up. Not one to drive away from a prime location, we decided to give it a try before heading home. For a few hours we had solid action on the inside seem at the head of cemetery pool. With the high water, the seem was a little swirly but an experienced mender of line can get a long dead drift if he plays his cards right. 

One of the reasons we decided to spend the third day on the river was to get Dan and Ben their first steelhead on fly. Dan knocked the door down halfway through our morning session with a nice fish. This occurred after losing several. It's always interesting watching the steelhead win those first few encounters. It takes me back several years when I was experiencing the same things. I had flashbacks whenever Dan and Ben would lose a nice fish downstream, on a jump, or simply from applying too little or too much pressure. I hated whenever I lost one, but it happens. You just can't land them all. As we left the river, Dan was super pumped. Meanwhile Ben was less than pleased. Considering the circumstances, I could only offer sympathy and the hope that the next time he hooks up, it will be his time. 

Meanwhile, we overstayed our welcome fishing well into a system of lake effect snow. The snow left I-81 south looking more like an ice skating rink full of spun out cars, trucks, and fender benders. It was the longest drive home from the SR I could remember. Good job driving Ben. Surely the steelhead gods will be in your favor next time. 

The Hunt for Winter Steel

For various reasons and excuses I've fished more on the tributaries this Winter than I did in the Fall. After putting in some extended time, I have come to enjoy the experience more. There are less people, everything is usually covered in snow, and the fish are still willing. The big variable in the equation is the weather, but every now and then, windows of opportunity present themselves.

A few friends of mine decided that they wanted to experience some winter steelhead fishing on the fly. We settled on an extended weekend and before I knew it, I was a passenger on someone else's planned fishing trip. I can't say that very often and I didn't even have to drive (thanks Ben). I even got to sleep for an hour on the ride up. On the downside, my tributary routines that had been honed and established over the past five years were challenged, but I excepted that fact and rolled with it.

On day one, we fished unfamiliar water between some familiar sections of real estate. With the temperature reaching into the high 30s, we had high expectations for some increased activity. It ended up being our least productive day. While Ben and Dan actively nymphed the runs and pools, I split my time evenly between indicator nymphing and throwing a skagit line and a medium sized intruder in brown. After day one, we all hooked up with nothing to show for our hard effort.

On day two, we experienced a hellish day on the water. Temperatures in the mid-20s with snow showers and 30-40 mph winds, gusting to 50. In other words, it was really cold. Despite this, we were able to find a few fish in some overlooked nooks and crannies in the lower fly zone. If you can even call them "overlooked".

That night, Dan and I were content and wanted to head home. A cold front was moving in and the temperatures were dropping into the single digits. Ben wanted to stay so we did. We headed back to the Mike's Mid-river Motel, and tied a new set of eggs for the next morning. Ben's decision to stay and freeze ended up being a wise one.

Serenity Now

The last day of our excursion north to the Salmon River came fast, leaving us contemplating a return home to friends, family, and that "W" word fly fishermen don't like.

The plan was to fish a scenic portion of the river and enjoy what mother nature had in store. We knew that walking this stretch of weather meant blazing trail through over a foot of a fresh powder, but it kept us warm on a pretty cold day. We also fully understood that large portions of the river were void of fish and that we might experience some difficulty zeroing in on them. Nonetheless we persevered and carried on.

On our way upriver, we fished likely holding water and Adam was able to mine up a small feisty fish in a boulder garden. Other spots were full of anglers, chairs included, so we hop scotched them looking for some seclusion.

I was able to find it on one of my favorite runs. Flanked by towering pines and covered in fresh snow, I had a hundred yards of awesomeness to myself. That was until a drift boat floated by close enough to high five. I parked it and waited for my brother, Adam, and Parry to arrive. Once they did, they nymphed the top of the pool while I slowly worked the middle and tail out swinging a mini-intruder. My only action of the day came at the end of a swing as my fly arrived in the slow stuff. I had a precious few seconds of head thrashing and cart wheeling before the fly flew back at my face. I was pumped.

Up on a popular bend, we finally finished our mini-migration. It was now the afternoon and it began to snow. Soon, no one was on the river besides us and we nymphed and swung our way back. On one particular stretch we stood silently listening to the river. The only sound came from the water slowly moving between our legs as we gazed off into the the winter wonderland. It was as if time stood still for a minute or two. I rudely interrupted the silence as I set a sustained anchor and arched up into a d-loop. I couldn't resist.

As the light faded and the snow continued to pour out of the sky, Parry hooked up one last time. His first fly fishing trip ever came to an abrupt halt as the fish broke free. We hiked out of the ravine and walked the rest of the way back to the car on the road. We reminisced, laughed, and took our grand ole time in the parking lot. No need to rush when your leaving an empty snow laden river.

The Pursuit of Happiness - Day 2

We slept the sleep of fisherman who had spent the previous day staving off hypothermia. The waders dripped in the shower, the heat on full blast, our faces and hands red, stomachs full.  We awoke to a fresh 20" of snow covering the world.
The forest on the riverbank was a silent as an abandoned house and the snow covered everything like a thousands years' worth of blinding white dust.  We broke trail and stumbled over the muted shapes of logs for a mile, finally arriving at an undercut bank formed by a bend in a tailout.  There was room for two to fish at a time.
The snow depressed and conformed to our bodies as we sank into it, finding the most comfortable of seats from which to rig or take in the silence.  Two did each.
It was cold and the fish weren't going to move much.  The snow was comfortable and the forest was at its most beautiful. We'd already landed some screamers the day before, so we weren't going to move much, either.
We took turns fishing each run.  Experience and patience won the day, but luck showed up as well.  Each person fishing concentrated for 45 minutes or so before yielding the water to someone else.

We caught a few fish, at least one for each of us. Included was a larger fish that surely pissed off a previous angler by breaking off a beautiful blue intruder that still hung from its jaw.

Parry continued to learn on each and every cast as his improving mends brought to hand a smaller brown.

We retraced our prints back towards the truck but passed it and continued upriver to the honey hole from the previous day. We pulled one out of there as the sun sank.

Surely satisfied, we returned to the lodge, plugged a few DVDs into the TV and gorged ourselves on pizza and wings. There was one more full day to go.