Where: Deschutes River, OR
When: Saturday evening, Sunday and Monday morning
Conditions: Clear, sunny, COLD
Flies used: Sara Jane, marabou spey, General Beauregard, Mardi Gras spey
Species pursued: Steelhead

Song of the day: "Give A Little Bit" Supertramp

"It doesn't seem like four hours."

As I strung up my rod, determined to fish before darkness swallowed the canyon, I recalled Tyler's comment.

He was right--that was probably the shortest non-fishing four hours I'd ever experienced.

But it was the longest five minutes rigging up. ;)

"Mind if I step in above you?" :)

I worked through a short run pretty quickly. The slippery rocks and tight banks made fishing um...challenging, to say the least.

As night crept upon us, I retreated, deciding to unpack and check into my room.

Interesting name, don't you think?

After settling in as best I could, I made my way back to the campsite to have a hot dog, drink a beer and forget about the past week's stresses. Clark, Tyler and Ricky provided the good company I needed to push me over the edge and into slowing down, relaxing and enjoying my time in the desert.

Clark related how he had hooked a steelhead in one of the runs.

An encouraging sign.

Before I knew it, stars were everywhere. No light pollution, no cars driving past and clean, cold air.

And then the moon appeared.

Suddenly, I was in a different world.

As the morning ahead promised a full day of fishing, I decided to turn in earlier than normal. I hadn't noticed just how cold it had gotten until I tried to wrap my hands around the steering wheel.

During the drive back, I wondered how cold the night would be sleeping in a tent.

The answer presented itself hours later: reels, boots and waders were all frozen solid.

Chilly!

Given the temperature and my limited selection, I decided on something big and bright to provide a bit more motivation for our quarry...

...while others...

...might have had a bit more trouble choosing from their selection. ;)

Following a warm breakfast and some badly needed thawing, we were off and running.

First the camp water, then what Ricky jokingly referred to as Mordor--aka "The Locked Gate."

Despite advice to walk up as far as we could, it seemed a terrible shame to pass up so much beautiful water. So we got in and started two-stepping down.

It seemed our fate had been decided by mid afternoon. With no takes and a dwindling window of opportunity left, my desperation got the better of me and I switched flies.

To what had worked for me before.

No luck there, unfortunately.

Somehow, it didn't matter.

The irony in steelheading with a spey is that the enjoyment of fishing doesn't diminish in relation to the quality of the catching. At least, that's how it is for me.

But I don't know why that is.

Rather than ponder that, my stomach took me in a different direction. So I sat alongside the road, broke out the pepperoni and cheese block I had brought along...

...and watched the pros practice. Was that a cack-handed single spey? ;)

The next morning was an abbreviation of the day before (i.e., no fish!), with the exception of the weather: warmer and overcast.

"Man, today should have been yesterday," Clark said between sips of Folgers.

"Yup."

"But then again, I think I'll take any day here."

Clark, Tyler, Ricky: Thanks for letting me tag along with you guys. Looking forward to fishing with you again.

Where: Puget Sound
When: Saturday
Conditions: Rainy, WINDY
Flies used: Marabou spey, Green Goblin spey, Lantern
Species sought: Chum

Song of the day: "With A Little Help From My Friends," Joe Cocker

"The Chum are in, along with a few Silvers."

"Then it looks like we'll be celebrating Don and Bryan's birthday out in the salt."

Since I'm not done packing for my flight to Chicago, I'll make this quick:

"Which fly do I use?"

"Which cigar do I smoke?" :)

This one looks good.

How could I forget my jacket?!?!? :)

Sittin' back with the birthday boys...

Practice, practice, practice...

Pho: the remedy for cold, windy, slow-fishing days! :)

Happy birthday, guys.

Jay, Bill, Mike, Phil, Jamie, Steve--good seeing all of you guys out there. We'll get them sooner or later!

Bryan, congrats again on hooking that chum on your new rod.

See you all when I get back!

Where: An "S" River
When: Saturday
Conditions: Foggy in the morning, clear and warm during the afternoon
Flies used: Marabou spey, Sara Jane Spey, Fall Favorite, MOAL
Species sought: Steelhead

Song of the day: "Daydream Believer," The Monkees

"Whoohoo!"

The whoop echoed off the fall colors surrounding us.

I looked upstream and gave the guy a thumbs up. His elation deflected the shot of depression aimed my way.

Not five seconds before, a little steelhead rocketed out of the water.

And gave me my fly back.

Thirty seconds before that, a loop of line slipped through my fingers and a fish came tight to the reel.

Between that moment and the last jump, the fish had gone up and downstream three times, then out into the current and back.

I guess it figured the only way to escape was to get out of the water entirely. :)

That's when I saw the typical bright pink cheeks.

And felt slack line.

Dang.

It didn't matter, just seeing a fish like that injected a surge of excitement and justification for standing in the frigid water, trying to catch an already difficult fish in the most challenging way.

And with weather like this, how can you complain? :)

----------------------

"Hey, thanks for letting us fish below."

"No problem, I couldn't fish that water with my rod, anyway. How close did he take?"

"About five feet from the bank, almost directly downstream of me."

"I need to get a spey rod," he said.

I smiled and waved as he drove off, thanking him again for being so generous. If not for that, I wouldn't have touched that fish.

Knowing that drove the rest of the day for us--we fished hard, sweeping through every run we came across, slipping on rocks, scrambling through blackberry bushes and suffering the pecking harassment of curious little resident trout on our flies.

"Over there, right where those currents meet!"

No backcast room? No problem! :)

"Jeez, where are they?"

As dusk loomed, we turned in, satisfied knowing that's just how steelheading goes.

No worries, though, the time will come. :)

Where: Skykomish River
When: Sunday
Conditions: Overcast, rainy
Flies used: MOAL leech, marabou spey
Species sought: Steelhead
Species caught: A few beat up, nasty pinks. :(

"Let's go anyway."

That was the thought. The four of us had been geared up for spey all week and, river blown out or not, we were gonna get us some SPEY. :)

Practicing the anchor stroke...

Fall's colors painted the river and the weather seemed as if it would stabilize.

The only good part about autumn...

But looks can be deceiving...

Having gotten our fill of practice and our dose of rain, it was time for a late lunch.

"All right, let's go eat Mexican food!"

For some reason, chips & salsa and a good fajita can save any fishing day. ;)

The combination of friends, dreary weather and, of course, the tortillas drove my mind elsewhere. The past summer's memories played in short clips, interspersed between the running spey commentary.

And I realized that I hadn't finished my Baja tale...

--------------------------------------------

"Lo mas importante es un pez gallo para el."

"Si."

"This is it dude, we're putting the icing on this cake."

Steve smiled.

Yesterday, he caught a marlin. A dream come true.

Today, we would complete his goal.

Pez Gallo.

"That's the one thing I want out of this trip."

I remember him saying that on the first day.

The panga sped toward the most likely spot.

They have to be here!

Unfortunately, Antonio's honey hole didn't produce.

Dang.

After about an hour, we gave up. Our panguero thought dorado might be more cooperative, so we headed out to a few buoys.

I was lucky enough to grab a dorado right off the bat, but just as quickly as it came, our luck died off.

"No mas."

I agreed.

"Podemos pescar para gallos por los demas del dia?"

"Bueno."

Antonio understood our determination--today, it was all about the rooster.

"We didn't come all this way to be disappointed," I said to my boatmate.

Before long, we were in a beautiful lagoon, out of the wind, with interested fish all around.

We let the chum fly.

They came from every direction, gobbling our silver offerings.

"Get 'em, dude!"

I hooked one follower, but had to strip FAST to do so.

Steve stripped like a madman, too.

A miss.

A flash of interest.

A refusal.

More chum.

"Over there!"

A pair of hogs cruised by to crash our little party. We fished them HARD but they weren't playing along. Later, we learned that they were yellowtail, not gallos.

Sweat trickled into my eyes. I blinked, only to have more flood in.

"Where did they go?" I asked myself. "It can't end like this. We were so clo--"

"Yeah, buddy!"

Pez gallo.

It's like they say in "Running Down the Man." "You have to BELIEVE." :)

And all was well.

It was in that moment that I knew I'd be back. I had done everything I had intended to, and more.

In four days, I had caught bonita, skipjack, pargo, snapper, yellowtail, dorado and the feisty roosterfish. Best of all, I shared those catches with friends.

That same time the next day, I also knew I'd be stateside and, in the grand scheme of things, the past five days would be just a collection of photos and some words on the internet.

But in the minor scheme of things, I know that--

Steve's eyes will always twinkle when he hears "pez gallo."

Anil will always smile when he remembers that marlin.

And I'll always shake my head in disbelief thinking about the strength of a skipjack.

And that's lo mas importante. :)