Don't Forget the Cellphone and the Net!

Adrienne and I moved to Ashland about 7 years ago. Once we got settled in, we immediately started fishing the local waters of our new home. Despite the abundant options, swinging up a North Umpqua Steelhead was on the top of my list. There were a few problems with this plan. The first two summers following our move were terrible for steelheading. ODFW closed the River due to low water and high temperatures. We also discovered local lakes with eager trout which kept us busy and away from the River. In the following years, we took up hunting and the learning curve occupied every waking moment of our lives. Eventually, the North Umpqua fell to the bottom of our to-do list.

Last September our son was born and our priorities shifted even more. Fishing fell away entirely as we settled into a welcome new chapter of our lives. The fishing reels started gathering dust and the tying bench remained untouched.

However, this year we decided that we needed to do a fish camp at least once and decided to revisit the North Umpqua. We planned a late season trip for October so that I could hunt deer in the local foothills. I ended up filling my buck tag early, so we changed course and decided to visit the river a bit earlier than anticipated.

First a side story: back in May, our cat fortuitously knocked my old spey reel off a window ledge and rendered it inoperable. This gave me an excuse to purchase a new 7 WT Winston Air TH which I paired with a Galvan Swing Reel. I’ve learned over the years that swinging for steelhead is as much about the gear and flies as it is about the fish. Before our trip, I tied a variety of steelhead muddlers and fixed wing flies from various animals I had harvested over the years. I was eager to land my first North Umpqua steelhead on my new setup and a hand tied fly.

We arrived late on the first day and fished a run below camp. We found perfect steelhead holding water but didn’t scratch up a fish. The next day started early and I had a few runs in mind. Adrienne was never an early riser and having Teddy has given her an excuse to sleep in. So that morning, I covered about 3 runs alone with nothing but a few dinks to show for it. The afternoon provided much of the same until I had an aggressive grab at the end of a swing. Nothing sticked so I decided to send the same cast out again. I encountered the same tenacious grab and ended up connecting to something more substantial than the dinks, but not as substantial as a steelhead: a fourteen inch cutthroat.

Unaccustomed to landing fish with the new 13’3” foot spey rod, I struggled to get the fish to hand. I was waist deep in the river and about six feet from shore. I decided to wade back and remembered just how unforgiving the wading the North Umpqua could be. With each step I took, the boulders felt deeper and more difficult to negotiate. I was not committed. I took another step but this time nothing was there, and I found myself chin deep in water. Still, I managed to climb onto a slippery rock and landed the fish.

Cold and wet, I returned to camp where Adrienne and Teddy were waiting. Neither had much interest in fishing so I decided to take off my angler hat and put on my husband/father cap and took the family to dinner at the Steamboat Inn. In the years I’ve lived in Southern Oregon, I still think the Steamboat is one of the best restaurants south of Eugene.

With only a morning left to fish, I spent much of the night thinking about the runs I wanted to visit. The next morning, I arrived at the first location finding that someone had similar plans. I headed upriver and found a run that looked decent. I climbed down the rocky slope which put me in the middle of the run. The upper half looked a bit too fast and uneven, but the lower half contained perfect walking speed water. As I pulled line off my reel a decent steelhead jumped out of the pool upstream of me. My plans changed.

With the sun higher on the water now, I decided to fish the best tied fly in my box: a bear bright which I had found in Dec Hogan’s book and tied weeks earlier. I tied it on and set myself up about 50 yards above where the fish had emerged and worked my way down. Eventually, I arrived at the pool where I figured the fish still was. Three casts in a got the familiar tug but it was much lazier than I expected. I felt a dull weight but lifted nonetheless. Fish on.

Rather than make a screaming run, the fish stayed in its pool and each time I pulled it out, it would lazily swim back in. Eventually, it left the pool and started making its way upstream. I followed suit.

The fish tired and I determined it was ready to be landed. The problem was I still had not learned the tough lesson the cutthroat had given me a day earlier. I had spent all my years fishing with Adrienne, and we always netted fish for each other. I did not have that luxury this morning. I was alone with no net and little experience landing steelhead by myself. After a few unsuccessful attempts at grabbing my leader, I decided to toss my rod onto the shore. At this point, the fish lay flat on the water and I managed to grab my leader and tail the fish.

It’s funny how steelhead always seem bigger to me once I get them in hand. I reached into my waders for my phone for a picture but realized it was back in the car. The plan shifted from getting a photo memory to releasing the fish. The fish seemed spent, so I bent over to pull the hook out. However, before I could get a good purchase on the hook the fish took off, and without much slack in my line, broke me off and took my bear bright fly with him. A lesson learned: don’t forget the cell phone and the net. I didn’t have a photo or my best tied fly, but I checked off my first North Umpqua Steelhead.