Varied Terrain, Very Fun Fishing pt. II

After I got back home, I needed some redemption from Ohio. It wasn't that Steelhead Alley wasn't fun. I just needed to hook, fight, and hold a giant freaking steelhead.

I immediately got in touch with my buddy Scot from Indiana. He has a guide service called The Modern Fly. It had been a few months since we fished together, and we finally had an opportunity. Scot's fishery this time of year is skinny water--tiny creeks that hold steelhead (Spring run and Skamania) and brown trout, as well as floodplains with pre-spawn pike. We thought we'd give it all a try over the course of a day.

Indiana's version of "Drifltess"

To get to the first spot we fished, we walked a quarter mile down some railroad tracks before sliding into a small creek. Scot waded upstream ahead of me, following the shallowest areas and looking in the potholes and troughs for a fish or two. The water had dropped recently, he said, and there were abandoned redds everywhere.

We spotted tails ahead of us, made a few casts around logs, but just spooked the fish out. Finally, a large buck with a beautiful red lateral came shooting around the back of a hole and back up under the laydown at the head. I made a few casts right up onto the tree trunk laying over the fish's head and dropped the lead-eyed streamer down in the hole. I stripped a few times and the line felt funny--I got the chew! Another strip for the hookset and I was putting the cork on one of the biggest steelhead I've caught. Here I was in a few inches of water pulling a 30"+ fish out from under a laydown, using the full 8' of cheap fiberglass Eagle Claw rod to control the aggressive buck.

Scot stood downstream and did a funky monkey dance whenever the fish shot downstream of me so that it would turn back my direction. It takes a true guide and fisherman to do this dance. Trust me.

I was engaged in another dance. The fish wanted to go back under the tree where I had found it. It was a few feet deep but narrow under that tree. Just upstream was a nasty set of snarled roots, branches, and other debris. When the fish headed there, I kept its head up and bear-hugged the tree, passing the rod from under to over the trunk and played the fish back to Scot. He tail-nabbed it and we got a bunch of pics. What a beauty. Fists = bumped.

The spot-hopping continued. We gave the brown trout spots a quick look, but we came up with only a few creek chubs and, oh yea, another steelhead for our efforts. Since the steelbow bite was on, we forewent our plans to get a slam and focused on them instead. I could not believe how skinny of water we were getting these non-spawning early spring steelhead from. I had to stand on the bank, cast downstream, then roll cast back upstream.

The day continued like that. Another spot, a lot of walking and searching, spot a fish, take another shot...

On our way back to the car, Scot spotted another toad of a chromer aggressively defending its hole. Scot gave it a few casts, stripped the fly a few times, and eventually it bit--and we were hooked up and in the rodeo again. I did less funky monkey dancing than Scot when he was in this position, but I corralled the fish away from tree roots with my attempts to capture the fish and the fight on film (er, um, I mean, on digital memory). It was a hot fish, and when we got a look, it was a beauty.

Another fist bump for another early Spring fish released. This Indiana steelheading is way too fun--or at least it was that day. If you're in the area, look Scot up. He knows these waters like we all wish we knew our own.

On my way back to Chicago, I got a much-needed car wash after a weekend on the road. The soap, like the lake-run trout, was rainbow.

So after a weekend chasing steel along the rust belt, I'm a happy angler. With friends or fish, it's good to reconnect. Get out there.

-T.A.

Varied Terrain, Very Fun Fishing - pt. 1

This past weekend, I had the the opportunity to fish two quite distinct types of waters for Great Lakes steelhead. First, while visiting family in Ohio, I took my brother-in-law, Shane, up to the Chagrin River on Lake Erie's famed "Steelhead Alley." Shane and I used to fish for chrome up here on spin gear when I lived in the state several years ago. He hadn't fished it yet with fly gear.

The conditions were looking good, and reports had been showing a fish picked off every day the water was fishable. So our hopes were high, but I knew I was playing the guide on waters unfamiliar to my fly rod. I felt pressure to get Shane his first chromer on the fly, but I also new with a now-one-year-old son at home, Shane was just happy to wet a line. And not having fished with him in some time, I was happy just to have an old fishing buddy back--if only for a day.

We chose to fish some new water on this old river. I forgot how gorgeous these Erie tribs are. Whether staring straight up a shale bluff in constant erosion, down a cobblestone shoal along green and white water, or across a limestone run, I was in awe all day.

And we did get Shane that first steelhead on the fly. We laughed at it's diminutive size of maybe 11", but we took seriously the milestone. Perhaps that moment gave Shane the steelhead addiction. And when we didn't have chrome to play with (um, most of the day), we had plenty of big, Great Lakes Grayling (suckers) to bend the rod. At least we knew we were getting those flies down.

Future Badass

Great Lakes Grayling

I wish I had more than a day to fish Steelhead Alley. I highly recommend these waters, and I highly recommend getting a guide that's not from out-of-state ;)

[Stayed tuned for part II of my weekend, to be continued shortly...]

Drift less, strip more

I finally made it out fishing with my buddy Ryan on Friday after a few weeks of trying to pin down some plans. We originally had agreed to try for Wisconsin steelhead, but we had to scrap that idea the night before since the lake tribs were reluctant to fall all week. So we scrambled to swap out our steelhead gear to be packed and ready for small spring creek trout in the Driftless the next morning. 

Only having one day to fish (we had decided to forego an overnight), we headed for some of the closer streams. At the first spot, it didn't take long for Ryan to hook into a nice brown. 

I probed around the bridge with a streamer to no avail. Took a hike, switched to nymphs, and got a little 'bow. 

Before the debarbing

We fished upstream and down for a good ways with no other takers despite great conditions (overcast skies, light rain, clear water). So we grabbed some day-old fast food being advertised as made-to-order and headed West to another river.

Yea, that way

The fish in this river were plentiful but well educated. But it was fun to watch them rise all afternoon and spook at the sight of fly line high over the water. They wanted nothing of our caddis. 

Ryan got a tip from a friend via cell phone as we passed through what little area had signal. It sounded good and was back in the direction home, so we went to check it out. A few wrong turns later, we were one intersection away, but we couldn't turn down the water we were rolling over on our way. So we stopped to check out a wide, deep-ish section of stream that was a little off-color. With the low light and slow water, we decided it was streamer time. 

Pretty soon thereafter, Ryan hollered from downstream that he has his personal best rainbow on the line--a bright red fish he claims to be 20" or more. Wanting to see what he was probably lying about, I began to jog his way, but in the fresh mud of the stream banks, I slipped and busted my ass. When I arose, Ryan's rod no longer had any bend in it, and he looked defeated. The big 'bow had kept his streamer and wanted no part of a photo-op. I decided to copy Ryan's retrieve but got nothing at first. Ryan tied on an even bigger streamer and started getting aggressive takes, but most weren't staying buttoned up. Finally, he landed a 12" brown trout. A few casts later, I heard what sounded like a 5-gallon bucket of water being dumped in the water. I turned toward Ryan to see a giant boil near the end of his line, and Ryan was shouting that it's the same rainbow from before! He's going to get his streamer back! But alas, the fish would evade us once more. 

I was thinking this is crazy nonsense, but I upsized my streamer anyway. I find the biggest rabbit strip/marabou/ice dub/lead eye/jig hook thing in my box and tie it on to my 6lb test leader on a 5-weight rod. Strip, pause, strip, strip, strip, pause...BOOM! Strip-setting, I only managed to part the line with my giant fly and what I can only imagine is the same fish that Ryan had now lost twice. I couldn't see the fish that stole my fly, and I didn't even get to fight it. 

The takes, in general, became more common in the next hour, and we landed a few more brownies. We missed more fish than we hooked. 

Once more, I made a sloppy cast slightly upstream with a conehead streamer and waited for it to sink. Without stripping the fly even once, the line jolted and was almost torn from under my finger on the grip. I set the hook, and a giant, bright red fish surfaced. I told Ryan to get his eyes and his net over to the action on my line (actually, what I said was, "DUDE! I got your fish! Holy $#@*"). He got down to water level and begins sinking in the mud. But with a few swipes of the net, the fish was caught. We moved up onto more solid ground (snow) to de-hook and measure the fish--turned out to be 21" on the nose.  We were in awe. But we were a little upset she didn't bring our other streamers back to us. Back at the muddy water's edge, we snapped some pics. Water on the lens. Mud everywhere. A few pics in, the fish decided it was time to stop messing with her two foolish admirers, and she bolted out of my hands.

It was a long drive home, but we were glad to end the night on a high note. 

Drift less, strip more

I finally made it out fishing with my buddy Ryan on Friday after a few weeks of trying to pin down some plans. We originally had agreed to try for Wisconsin steelhead, but we had to scrap that idea the night before since the lake tribs were reluctant to fall all week. So we scrambled to swap out our steelhead gear to be packed and ready for small spring creek trout in the Driftless the next morning. 

Only having one day to fish (we had decided to forego an overnight), we headed for some of the closer streams. At the first spot, it didn't take long for Ryan to hook into a nice brown. 

I probed around the bridge with a streamer to no avail. Took a hike, switched to nymphs, and got a little 'bow. 

Before the debarbing

We fished upstream and down for a good ways with no other takers despite great conditions (overcast skies, light rain, clear water). So we grabbed some day-old fast food being advertised as made-to-order and headed West to another river.

Yea, that way

The fish in this river were plentiful but well educated. But it was fun to watch them rise all afternoon and spook at the sight of fly line high over the water. They wanted nothing of our caddis. 

Ryan got a tip from a friend via cell phone as we passed through what little area had signal. It sounded good and was back in the direction home, so we went to check it out. A few wrong turns later, we were one intersection away, but we couldn't turn down the water we were rolling over on our way. So we stopped to check out a wide, deep-ish section of stream that was a little off-color. With the low light and slow water, we decided it was streamer time. 

Pretty soon thereafter, Ryan is hollering from downstream that he has his personal best rainbow on the line--a bright red fish he claims to be 20" or more. Wanting to see what he was probably lying about, I began to jog his way, but in the fresh mud of the stream banks, I slipped and busted my ass. When I arose, Ryan's rod no longer had any bend in it, and he looked defeated. The big 'bow had kept his streamer and wanted no part of a photo-op. I decided to copy Ryan's retrieve but got nothing at first. Ryan tied on an even bigger streamer and started getting aggressive takes, but most weren't staying buttoned up. Finally, he landed a 12" brown trout. A few casts later, I heard what sounded like a 5-gallon bucket of water being dumped in the water. I turned toward Ryan to see a giant boil near the end of his line, and Ryan was shouting that it's the same rainbow from before! He's going to get his streamer back! But alas, the fish would evade us once more. 

I was thinking this is crazy nonsense, but I upsized my streamer anyway. I find the biggest rabbit strip/marabou/ice dub/lead eye/jig hook thing in my box and tie it on to my 6lb test leader on a 5-weight rod. Strip, pause, strip, strip, strip, pause...BOOM! Strip-setting, I only managed to part the line with my giant fly and what I can only imagine is the same fish that Ryan has now lost twice. I couldn't see the fish that stole my fly, and I didn't even get to fight it. 

The takes, in general, became more common in the next hour, and we landed a few more brown trout. We missed more fish than we hooked. 

Once more, I made a sloppy cast slightly upstream with a conehead streamer and waited for it to sink. Without stripping the fly even once, the line jolted and was almost torn from under my finger on the grip. I set the hook, and a giant, bright red fish surfaces. I tell Ryan to get his eyes and his net over to the action on my line (actually, what I said was, "DUDE! I got your fish! Holy $#@*"). He gets down to water level and begins sinking in the mud. But with a few swipes of the net, the fish was caught. We moved up onto more solid ground (snow) to de-hook and measure the fish--turned out to be 21" on the nose.  We were in awe. But we were a little upset she didn't bring our other streamers back to us. Back at the muddy water's edge, we snapped some pics. Water on the lens. Mud everywhere. A few pics in, the fish decided it was time to stop messing with her two foolish admirers, and she bolted out of my hands.

It was a long drive home, but we were glad to end the night on a high note.