The sun was beginning to set on a day that was so cold the tip-top and rod guides would freeze shut if you stripped in too much wet line. The angler was standing on a rock, tight-lining the soft water, when the Steelhead struck his fly.
The fish felt the prick of the sharp Gamakatsu Size 8 2X heavy nymph hook and rocketed to the surface, somersaulted, and took off down stream. The angler recovered from the initial surprise of the sudden tug as the reel's drag hummed a sweet burring sound. Line, then backing, disappeared into the Salmon River.
"Where's the drag knob?" the angler asked his guide. The water was running high and the fish was hot. He wanted to slow it down before it wrapped the leader around a sunken tree branch or snapped the tippet on a sharp rock.
"There isn't any," said the guide. "It's a click-pawl reel. Don't worry about it. You have enough drag. Pay attention to the fish."
The angler knew he had to get shallow quick to follow the fish because the thigh-deep water was moving too fast to safely move downstream. With both hands on the 13-foot 7 weight Sage spey rod, he quickly turned right and stepped off the rock. Unfortunately the tip of his aluminum three-section Simms wading staff, which was clipped to his waist and swinging in the current, wedged itself between boulders on the river bottom and as the angler stepped down quickly off his rock the blunt handle was shoved deeply into his left testicle.
After gritting his teeth, blinking away tears, huffing, puffing and walking bow-legged downstream, a dime-bright Steelhead was brought to net. The angler appreciated the fish because he knew he had just paid a painful price for it.
*****
I came up to fish for steelhead at the Douglaston Salmon
Run in Pulaski, NY, with Jin and guide Greg Liu. Fish had
been moving upstream for the past several weeks and we
hoped to intercept a few of them over the next couple days
of fishing.
The
weather and water flow was a mixed bag of conditions. We
had really high wind gusts bother us on one day, some snow
and clear skies the next followed by a miserable day of
frigid conditions and high water flow. But anytime you fish
in the winter, especially on the Salmon River, you take
your chances with the weather and water. It's just the
weird bag of conditions caused by Lake Ontario's
micro-climate. You can cry all you want about how unfair it
is but it's usually better to expend that energy
concentrating on your presentation and fishing hard.
I
bagged a fish quickly. At least it was quick by my
standards. Usually Jin has a 3-0 lead on me before I get a
nibble. However once you get that first fish, it's like a
great weight is lifted off your shoulders. The pressure is
off, a door in your brain opens and you have a whole new
fishing perspective. But it also helps a lot to have a
guide like Greg telling you what sections of the river to
fish or which flies are the ones to use in specific
situations or to correct your presentation for a better
dead drift.
You
can never underestimate the importance of dead drifting the
fly. Drag is your enemy, especially when you're working
with complicated currents and seams caused by the way water
flows around and through obstructions in the river. Winter
steelhead are also notoriously locked-jawed in the winter
and if your fly is not absolutely up-and-down with your
tippet and leader forget about them eating it. Greg stood
nearby and watched me fish an area before stepping up,
asking for the rod.
"It's
important to mend the line before it gets past you, so
everything is set up before you hit the spot you want to
fish," said Greg. "You're also too far out. The fish are in
the deeper section--around here." He pointed to a spot
about 14 feet out from the bank. With only a few feet of
fly line hanging from the tip of the rod, he flicked it out
to demonstrate how to anchor the line and set up a dead
drift.
"Pick
the line up and mend it behind the indicator before it goes
past you at 12 o'clock," he said. "That sets up your fly
for dead-drift before it hits the slot." The line had moved
about five feet when the indicator went down and we saw a
flash of silver. He quickly handed me the rod.
"It looks like a big one. Don't let it get around the
corner or we're in trouble," Greg warned as he began to
unsling his net. The corner was 100 yards away and the
water out there was way too fast and deep to follow the
fish.
The steelhead put up a great fight as we slowly moved
downstream. The corner was getting closer. Greg told me to
get nasty with the fish so I cranked down on it and soon it
was in the net. A nicely colored hen.
On
another section of the river Greg had Jin fishing a short
section of quiet water which looked to be, at most, about
20 feet long and about three feet wide. It was sandwiched
between two fast currents so you had to get right up on it
and keep a tight line on your fly. I moved upstream to one
of my favorite spots where I had already hooked a few
fish.
Within 30 minutes Jin stuck five steelhead and landed two.
The jumps were spectacular. Standing on my rock, I saw a
huge fish cartwheel out of the water and take off
downstream. I had one tentative take, but it seemed like
all the action was downstream from me.
Our
last day was probably our toughest. The temperature dropped
to 11 degrees and for some reason the folks that control
the dam decided to bump the water flow from 335 cfs to a
whopping 1,800 cfs. So we had high water and low
temperatures and it made fishing pretty tough. If you
pulled wet fly line in and out of your rod the tip-top and
guides would freeze shut. The toothpick pegging the
indicator on the line would freeze inside the indicator and
if you wanted to move it up or down your leader you had to
thaw it out first. And the fish gods help you if you
accidently dunked your reel in the water because the spool
would instantly freeze to the frame. We fished hard but the
steelhead just weren't interested and we didn't have many
options because the high water made crossing the river a
dangerous problem. We met other anglers on the river, other
crazy folk willing to stand in frigid conditions and icy
cold water. One of them told Jin, after taking a long look
up and down the river, "I don't think we're going to catch
anything today."
However
Jin saved what was turning out to be a possible fishless
day. Late in the afternoon he found the only steelhead on
the entire Douglaston Salmon Run that was willing to eat a
fly. After a short fight it was in the net. Not a large
fish by Salmon River standards but it was a fish. And by
this time, as the sun was dipping below the trees, we were
sufficiently beat down and chilled that we called it a day
and started our journey home.
DIRECTIONS: From
Virginia I just got on I-81 and it's a straight six hour
drive north to Pulaski, which is about 30 minutes outside
of Syracuse, NY. But watch out when you enter the Onondaga
Nation territory, or Iroquois Confederacy. State police are
thick in this area and are gunning for anyone going a wee
bit too fast to reach steelhead waters in Pulaski.
EQUIPMENT: We
used 7 and 8-weight switch and spey rods with floating
lines. Breathable waders with rubber soled boots studded
with steel cleats, polarized glasses and a wading staff are
mandatory for navigating the Salmon River. Also thermal
layers, gloves and a good, waterproof, breathable rain
jacket and cap.