Where: East of the mountains
When: Friday, Saturday and Sunday
Conditions: Overcast, FRIGID
Flies used: MOAL, marabou spey, glo bug
Species sought: Steelhead

Song of the day: "You Can't Always Get What You Want," Rolling Stones

Below freezing temperatures.

Low water.

Small chance of success.

All good reasons to go on a road trip to me! :)

Banking on the fact that almost nobody would be fishing over the holiday weekend, the four of us reserved rooms for two nights and packed our bags.

It was time for another adventure.

Originally, it was to the Deschutes. But rain has a funny way of changing plans, and a week out from our trip, we looked east.

I hadn't seen the river in a long time and the last time I did, it was on a late summer day and I was looking for trout.

We knew it was going to be cold but that didn't matter--that what layers are for, after all.

And with temps like this on the way there, we were thankful that we packed warmly.

And if layers failed, we could always count on our little friends to help out. ;)

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"The river's fishing well with nymphing set ups right now. This is the coldest it's been and that's put the fish down for now. You really have to get it in their face."

Dang, and all I had was my spey with me.

Well, if you don't have it, you don't need it...

And how could a steelhead NOT want to bite one of these swinging by?

By the time we got out of the shop, the sun had quickly made its way down.

No sense fishing now...

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The next morning brought a bit of sunshine...

(though not enough to chase away the cold or

prevent the guides from icing up)

...as well as access to some pretty nice runs.

But to no avail.

So we regrouped and hit a different slice of water.

"What's the hold up, fellas?" :)

"Stupid slippery rocks..."

But no matter how good the water, it just wasn't meant to be.

"I wonder what nymphing with a spey rod would be like," I thought.

With the day behind us and a cold night ahead, our heads went to our stomachs.

"Time to eat!"

Unfortunately, the pizza place across the street was popular that night--it'd be an hour before we'd get our grub.

Might as well watch the fireworks while we're waiting. I knew there was a reason we came all this way. ;)

That's right, fireworks.

Good ones. In the winter cold. That's what burn bans during the summer will do to your Fourth of July.

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Day two on the river meant new water. Despite not having caught a steelhead, our outlook remained hopeful and our efforts consistent with the day before.

Looks like some good water up here! Photo: Don

"Dude, I see fish! Big ones!"

A few drifts later and a hookup was underway.

Wyld Stallyns! :) Photo: Don

After a few shakes, I figured it out. It wasn't a steelhead...

It was a whitey!

And you can always count on Mr. Whitey to bail you out--even in the crazy cold.

A tug is a tug, you know. Heh.

I guess we'll have to go back to get our steelhead some other time...

Where: Puget Sound
When: Saturday
Conditions: Overcast, RAINY
Flies used: Lanterns (green, pink), wooly bugger, various spiders
Species sought: Chum salmon

Song of the day: "Hurt So Good," John Cougar Mellencamp

"Jimmy Dean sausage..."

I chuckled as we recounted the YouTube clip.

As long as it was a distraction from the imminent aching, I was happy.

Bill, Don and I stretched out in the ferry booth, thankful that we had decided to catch the later boat.

The day had been long.

This is how it started.

But the bite didn't last, so we decided to knock off a bit of the chill and pass some time waiting for the tide by having a smoke.

Bill brought something curious with him: his father's pipe, complete with some well-aged tobacco.

I thought certain cigars smelled good.

Standing in a loose circle, we joked about how the weatherman forecasted rain. After all, we had been enjoying fairly mild weather with the occasional slot of blue sky above. Rain was something that seemed somewhat unlikely.

Kind of like topping last weekend's catch numbers. ;)

And that's when the tables turned.

Minutes later, the clouds tore open and poured rain. Smiling wryly from the irony, I pulled my hood up and worked out a cast. The others did the same.

Remember what I said about the likelihood of fishing not being as good as last weekend?

Wrong again.

But that wasn't such a bad thing.

Phil, who had also come to chum with us, picked up a few fish right away.

The bite was on.

We hooked fish after fish while the rain pounded happily away.

But such things don't last forever, and as things quieted down, the prospect of warm hands, nourishment and something to relax the back grew in its appeal.

So off to the car we went.

For a bit of muscle relaxant. ;)

"So what do you think?"

"I could fish more."

At the time, I was actually hoping for a different answer; we'd just endured hours of dousing, fought some pretty big fish and the port was starting to make me sleepy.

It couldn't get any better, could it?

Then again, my previous doubts about the outcome of things had, after all, proven wrong.

"Okay, let's hit it again and take the later boat."

Good call, Don! Photo: Don

Flavor of the day: pink bugger! :)

Check out those fangs. Yikes.

This one was actually pretty bright for a chum.

Just like it did earlier, the bite petered out, leaving us with an ideal ending to the day: no rain, a setting sun and aching arms and backs from fighting fish all day.

Reflecting on a good day.

And before long, there we were, sitting on a Seattle-bound boat, laughing about a Jimmy Dean sausage rant from YouTube...

...and how these guys make you wish you'd brought a heating pad. :)

Where: Puget Sound
When: Sunday
Conditions: Windy, overcast, rainy later
Flies used: Lanterns (green, pink, orange) , General Beauregard, wooly bugger
Species sought: Chum salmon

Song of the day: "Trinity Infinity," Don Davis, from the Matrix movie score

The e-mail read:

"My neck and shoulders are so sore dude."

I was suffering, too.

Chum will do that to you.

A few days before, Bryan, Don and I had decided it was time to catch these vicious beasts.

With spey rods.

We were all dying to test the limits of our new setups and figuring that it would take longer to do it with steelhead, we opted for the less exotic, easier to entice chum salmon.

For that, we were rewarded. Kind of. :)

"I'll be there at 6AM. See you guys in the morning."

It made sense that Bryan would want to get there as early as possible. After all, he'd had his birthday present for about a month now.

Don and I, on the other hand, were held back by a ferry that left no earlier than 6 in the morning.

Well, that and I didn't really want to wake up any earlier than 4:30. ;)

When we arrived, the creek was loaded with fish:

Rounding the corner, we observed what I've come to expect every time I fish here: a zoo. Thirty or so anglers lined the shore, a few of them with fish on.

As we got closer to the water, we happened upon this guy:

A sign that it would be a good day. Congrats on your first fish on the new rod, dude!

"Man, that must have been tough to land," I thought.

You see, using a standard 8 weight on these bruisers is enough of a challenge, but using a spey rod on them, in the wide open salt? That's upping the ante.

The reason is rod length. Under these conditions, longer isn't better. It means more leverage for them.

And more work for you. Lots of it.

We went at it for hours with these guys. It was a simple, brutal formula:

We hook them, they run. Far. We crank them back in. They run. We grab the leader. And they run.

And they cut you with your own line. Ouch.

As you prepare the 7 to 8 pounds of angry fish for release, you're overcome with the paradox of the relief that it's over combined with the masochistic desire to repeat the experience.

How could you NOT want to catch more of these guys, after all?

To the casual observer, it's stupid.

To us, it's fun. :)

"Thank you sir, may I have another? Or two?" ;)

Like pinks, the repeated fights consume you. We didn't care about the wind or the rain or the cold toes. We just wanted more.

If the bite hadn't slowed down, we wouldn't have noticed that the rain had stopped.

And that a rainbow had replaced it.

Or that the zoo occupants had been trickling out.

By 2:30, we were back in the car. My arms were jelly--a symptom of a good day of chum fishing. :)

Where: Puget Sound
When: Sunday
Conditions: Fairly calm, overcast
Flies used: Clousers and wooly buggers
Species sought: Sea-run cutthroat

Song of the day: "1234," Feist

There are fish being caught in the South Sound, folks. And we're not talking chum, necessarily.

Check it out:

It started with cutties...

...then to rezzies...

...then, of all things. :)

I guess it's time to put the spey rod down for a bit, isn't it?

Or is it? ;)