Catching steelhead on the west coast is definitely a challenge that many anglers have difficulty overcoming. A very good fishing buddy of mine went almost two years and 50+ trips before he finally got his first one! These fish are dispersed throughout river systems in pretty sparse numbers, and can be tough to have dialed in.
These fish are in the river to spawn, not feed. And while many populations of summer/fall run steelhead will eat; you won't see them going on active feeding frenzies like you will a resident trout. The further you get from the ocean, the more likely it is that population of steelhead will be eating and keyed in on the local food supply. Winter run fish, which tend to stick to river systems much closer to the saltwater, may not feed at all during their short stay in the river.
I just returned from 3 full days of fishing on one of my favorite summer/fall run steelhead rivers. The same one I wrote about hitting up last week. This time around, the fish were definitely harder to come by, and the amount of people out and about had increased despite the decline in the fishing (report chasers are always a few days late!). We had spent our entire first day driving up and down 25mi of river in search of fish with nothing to show for it.
On day 2, we had decided to change things up a bit. We hit the bottom mile of the river above where it dumps in to the Columbia river, and hiked upriver with a few sketchy crossings to get far above the crowds at the bottom. At first light, I was on a tailout of a run I knew to consistently hold fish early in the morning as they hold there overnight and jump off to head further up at first light. My buddy and I were on a mission to raise the elusive steelhead to dry flies this day; and I didn't intend to stray from the tactic. Given what I've said previously about pacific steelhead, their numbers, and their feeding habits or lack thereof, you can imagine that a dry fly caught steelhead is something most people don't even consider trying. Well, I was going to do just that this morning.
My foam-topped skater ready for action
I started about halfway through the run, as that's about where the current evens out for a nice, even swing. I waded out to the middle of the run as I know the fish hold along the slot on the opposite bank, and used my spey rod to lay out a cast 70' out, and just slightly downstream to get the immediate swing. I did the classic step, cast, swing routine through a small portion of the run until I got to the sweet spot; a nice greasy bucket on river left right above the tailout. My first swing through this bucket, I noticed some mysteriously nervous water behind my fly as it skittered through the swing. Having that "hunch," I made the same cast without stepping down, and let the fly skate through a bit faster this time (by throwing a downstream bow in the line). This time, I had a torpedo-like wake shoot up to the back of my fly, splash, and disappear. Heart racing at this point, I did the same thing once more, got near the hang down of the swing, and watched as my fly disappeared in to a whirlpool. As soon as I felt the pull, I dropped my rod tip, gave him some slack to turn, and drove the hook home. I felt the tell-tale steelhead "freakout," then felt as my hook popped out of his mouth. Disappointed, I refocus with a new-found confidence in my tactic of choice for the morning.
Skaters swing across the run, creating a wake behind them
I take a very small step down (not enough to make a difference, I just wanted to feel like I was covering water), and lay out another cast to the opposite bank. No more than a second after the fly started waking across, it got attacked savagely. The fish didn't eat it, but he was definitely looking to attack it. I have found that times the steelhead doesn't go for the eat, the results are sometimes more spectacular than when they do eat it. As you can imagine, the the excitement was building and I was having a hard time keeping cool and collected; a necessary thing when you're throwing a two handed fly rod... Getting excited often leads to speeding up the casting stroke, which means everything just falls apart.
At this point I have moved what I am sure to be two different steelhead to my dry fly on multiple swings. Obviously, this is not a bad way to go for this current situation I'm in. I take a step down, and lay out yet another cast over the slot on river left. This time, as the fly hits the 45 degree angle from me, I see it disappear. I feel a tug, drop the rod tip, feed him a foot of line, and sweep the rod to the bank. BAM! The fish blows up and runs up stream, screaming line off the reel. The battle lasted for several minutes as I got him up to the bank in relatively short order for a steelhead fight. But the relatively short fight wasn't without its exciting moments of cartwheels, acrobatics, hard runs, and other things that make steelhead as awesome as they are.
Contrary to popular belief, steelhead DO look up from time to time!
Mission accomplished! By day's end, my buddy and I had moved 16 steelhead to dry flies! Compare this to the day before where nothing happened while fishing wet flies, sink tips, and nymph rigs. We truly believe that there are times when dries are the best way to go; it probably just isn't that often. On day 3, I managed to coach another friend, who just showed up to the river, in to not only his first steelhead caught swinging a 2 handed fly rod, but swinging a 2 handed fly rod with a dry! The action on day 3 stopped there though, and we called it a trip mid-day. Goes to show that steelhead can change the game on you at the flip of a switch. Two days of no fish, one day of dry fly mayhem!
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