In Praise of Wild Fish

I once read that you can tell whether an author caught fish on a salmon fishing trip based on how his story starts. If it talks about the beauty of the scenery and the thrill of the pursuit, he didn't catch any fish. If he talks about the scenery and the excitement of the fish, he hooked a fish but didn't catch it. I'm guessing looking at the picture can be as telling. As you can see I do not have a fish picture, but I do talk about fish in the title, so this will fit into the hooked, but not caught story.

I got up early yesterday morning to make one last trip in pursuit of winter steelhead. I woke up early to try to beat the sunrise to the river. (I think we tied, so I was running late.) I made it to the small river/creek and was happy to see no other cars. I decided to try a new spot and hiked down. I had been there in January, only catching smolt and a nice cutthroat. I felt this would be the time, with the rain of the previous week, there should be fish in the system I thought.

Right as I made it to the first run I saw a steelhead. I tried to be stealthy and make a cast, but she must have seen me. She slowly swam downstream within feet of me. If I could here her, I'm sure she was laughing at my feeble attempts. She would later come back to swim by my feet while I fished the run. She didn't seem to mind me as long as I didn't cast to her. It was nice having some company in the run, but she didn't help me catch any of her friends. I fished upstream and had no luck despite some promising looking runs. I was getting hungry and knew I had homework to finish up, so I thought I'd work my way downstream and head out.

The most promising run looked too good not to hold fish. I methodically worked my way down. The strike indicator went under and I struck, before I knew what was happening I saw a red streaked missile bolt by me. (I am not sure why the red stuck out so much to me since I later saw it was very faint, but that's what I remember most.) After racing upstream the angry fish at the end of my line jumped clear out of the water so I could get a good view. He seemed to start swimming back downstream before he even made it back in the water. He raced past me and I chased downstream. He leaped another couple times and seemed to be tiring out. I got a good glimpse of him to see his silvery sides with a faint pink strip and adipose fin intact. He made another run towards a downed tree limb in the water, but I was just barely able to keep him out of it. It seemed like the tide had turned in my favor when he got a fresh burst of energy and shot off towards another snag with renewed vigor. This time I wasn't so lucky and I felt the sickening feel of nothing on my line.

I was left out of breath and heart racing. I now know what the steelhead obsession is about. The hatchery fish I caught last month was strong and exciting, but there was no comparison. They may have both gone out to sea and made similar returns to their home waters, but there was no comparing the tenacity and fight between the two fish.