I keep reading that it takes at least 100 hours or so of fishing to catch your first steelhead here in the state of Washington. A bit longer if on a fly rod. So one can imagine how inept I have felt over the last 3 years in logging well over 3 times that, in my quest to catch a steelhead. Now I have caught several other fine fish; all different kinds of Salmon, some over 20 lbs; sea-run cutthroat, 175lb halibut, along with many others; and have out-fished gear-chuckers, and fellow fly fishermen on numerous occasions. So while I still have much to learn in the fly-fishing world, I am at least of intermediate skill. But this quest to catch the revered steelhead in this state has humbled me on endless, empty-handed mornings, where I caught nothing but possibly frostbite of my toes and fingers and some ridicule from my wife when I arrive home and she asks me if I caught anything, a smirk forms on her face as she asks this, for she already knows the answer. I can't explain the drive that compels me to wake at 4:30 AM on a weekend to drive and hike miles to different spots around Washington, but I know I am not the only crazy-ass angler who does so. It simply seems that I am the only crazy-ass angler who has not had success....Until today!
My original destination for the morning was diverted due to a nefarious looking individual I ran into in the middle of no-where at 5:00 AM, that I neither trusted to be left with my vehicle, nor thought wise of being alone in the woods with this gent lurking around the corner, waiting to slit my throat. So off to plan B: a place I hadn't been to in at least a year and a half, and had little confidence that steelhead stuck around there at all. My, up to now, lack of success, may partially be the result of my strong desire to fish where others don't. It could be that people don't fish the areas that I do, because, well, there are no damn fish there. But I don't like crowds. I don't like standing shoulder to shoulder with other fishermen. I like the solitude, the quietness, the early morning misty fog uninterrupted by some loud-mouthed jerk.
I had recently received some advice from a couple of my friends who have actually had success, and I set out up the river in search of the perfect spot and a plan on how I was going to approach it forming in my head, based on my new intel. After 20 minutes of swinging one of my own tied flies, the miracle happened. At first, I thought that the current simply slammed my fly into a rock, but as I lifted the rod in the everlasting hope it was not a snag, the fly-line hissing as it broke the current's hold, a fish leapt beautifully out of the water and, incredibly, with the other end of my line at it's mouth. "Holy shit! No way!" I heard echo through the broken silence, suddenly realizing that it was I, being the only loud-mouthed jerk around, who yelled it aloud.
I am pretty sure the everybody who gets married goes into the ceremony telling themselves that they will remember every little detail of that glorious day, but then realizes when it is over, that everything is a fuzzy blur. I imagine that is why wedding photographers make pretty damn good money. Without those photos, the ceremony would be nothing more than a distant dream. I fathom that it is due to the adrenaline pumping through your veins, messing with the synapses of the brain and sensory mechanisms.
So too with your first catch. I remember a thousand thoughts racing through my head. "ok, holy shit, ok, keep the tip up, not too tight, get it on the reel, let it run, holy shit, I hope my leader doesn't break, oh shit, another jump, give it slack? lean into it?? damn I hope I tied the knots right in my leader, shit, what pound test is my tippet? wait, oh shit! ok, where am I gonna land this, I don't f'ng believe this, I have one, ok shit, think, do this right....." on and on these thoughts spewed, and frankly I don't know if I was saying this out loud or in my head. I remember praying to some unknowable force that I would land this fish while I exclaimed in dis-belief that I had one on. After numerous leaps, after numerous prayers, after numerous expletives, after stumbling over rocks; I brought this beautiful aquarian to shore. My hands shaking, I laid it next to my rod with the intention of taking a photo, but also thinking I had fought it for a while and it seemed tired. It's mouth gaping in the air, I gazed at the purple-green lateral lines and thought beauty. I am catch and release, and didn't want my first steelhead to perish at my hands. I didn't even look to see if it were a native or hatchery. I didn't care. I rushed to get my hook out and the fish released. To hell with the photo. I erroneously thought I would remember every detail. Like my wedding, it is a blur, and while on a different scale of course, I know I will cherish that moment for the rest of my life.
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