This was to be my second trip of the late summer season fishing for summer steelhead. My first trip of the season was to drift the lower Deschutes with Dwight Klemin. He had finished guiding some customers and was going to hang around and do some fishing for himself. Last year I had gone steelheading 4 times without any success (because I didn't have a clue about what I was doing or where to fish). I had never seen a steelhead let alone seen any one catch one. Dwight showed me what steelhead water looked like, how to cast efficiently, and how to present the fly by swimming it through the swing while keeping the line as straight as possible. I watched Dwight hook and land a huge native fish on that trip, which gave me encouragement that people really do catch steelhead, that it's not a myth. Although I didn't catch one myself, I was starting to get the confidence that maybe I might eventually hook one too. And that's the confidence that is necessary to keep you going back again and again after getting skunked a few times. So I chose the Deschutes for my second trip for the following reasons:
- Dwight had already shown me some steelhead runs there. - The Deschutes has one of the biggest returns of summer steelhead in Oregon, so that might improve my chances. - I love the Deschutes; it's my favorite trout destination and you can't beat the scenery.
When I got to the lower Deschutes, I chose a run that Dwight and I had been to and where I had seen fish before. I got in the river when the sun had gone down over the canyon wall and started swinging a Green Butt Skunk at the top of the run. Midway through the cast, swing, and take-one-step-down ritual, a large steelhead bolted completely out of the water downstream of me. I tried to make a presentation to where he was, but no takes. I got out of the water at dark, and camped on the road in the back of my pickup over night. After being rudely awakened all night by trains and vehicles on the access road, I got up before it was light and started at the top of that same run. Others had joined in upstream of where I was, but none of us got any thing. At that point I was really starting to get frustrated. I was beginning to think that catching steelhead on a fly is a myth for me but not for everybody else. I figured I would just start heading home, and maybe if I felt like it I would hit another run upstream.
It was getting close to 9:00am and it was still a little overcast, so I stopped at a spot that Dwight told me about. Since I couldn't roll cast long distances, I picked a spot to wade in that had enough backcast clearance. I started swinging the fly in small to larger arcs. After reaching the farthest cast that I could make and still control it, I straightened the line and let it swing. Bump.. I felt a light tug. Hmmm... maybe that was a fish... I made another cast, and let it swing down below me and hang there. Nothing. But as I was starting to retrieve some line to setup for the next cast, I felt a tug and saw a fish make a wake as it attacked my fly just under the surface film. I didn't have to set the hook, he grabbed the fly aggressively and went down to the bottom. There wasn't much of a battle. It felt like it was maybe a large trout that just wanted to hang on the bottom, and when I finally landed him, it was like dragging in a reluctant rock. When I got a closer look at him, it became clear why he didn't put up much of a battle: he had a 2 - 3" bite mark on the side of his body behind the dorsal fin, the size that a small seal or otter might make. He must have escaped from some predator, but he didn't get away unscathed.
Another fly fisherman had been watching the uneventful battle. After closer examination he confirmed that it was definitely a hatchery steelhead that had been to the salt once; about a 22" fish and maybe 4 - 5 lbs. After taking a picture of me posing with my first steelhead, he took off after I released the fish. That poor fish was probably not long for this world after being bitten by whatever got him. Although it was a little disappointing (I expected a heart-pounding fight), it was good to at least have a steelhead take my fly, and I thanked the Lord for that! But then I remembered what others said about steelhead: "where there's one, there's two". I waded right back out to where I had hooked that first fish and cast to about the same spot. Got another bump. Right after the second cast and just a little into the swing, a very determined steelhead slammed the fly in the surface film and took off running downstream. After a short knuckle-busting run, the fish spit the hook. Cool! That got my heart starting to pound again. I must have come into a pod of fish holding there or something.
After regaining what little composure I may have had, with hands shaking I took one big step downstream and made another long cast. I straightened the line and let it swim through the arc. About midway through the swing another fish hammered the fly and turned tail downstream. Whoa! He went airborne once and it looked like a good sized one. He made a number of knuckle-bruising bursts downstream until my reel was about at the backing. I kept the pressure on him and maneuvered my way around rocks as I followed a little downstream and worked more line onto the reel. He ran upstream a bit, but I kept the side pressure on him and gradually worked him closer to me. I could feel the fish and myself getting tired, but I was determined to land that fish. After some more give and take, I finally beached the fish and grabbed him by the tail. What a beautiful steelhead even if it was a hatchery fish. Using my rod, I measured the fish to be larger than 30" and fat, must have been about 8 lbs. There was no one around to take a picture for me, so I fumbled with shaking hands for my camera. I took a picture of part of the fish in the water (just so that I had proof for the skeptics). After thanking the fish for the pleasure of catching him, I released the steelhead back to the river that gave him to me. That was awesome! Forget trout fishing, I may have to concentrate on steelhead now. Well, maybe I'll still fish for trout too... When I got up to the ODFW guy on the access road, he asked how I did, and I was more than proud to tell him. I made my way home and rode the wave of that experience for days. And just to prove to myself that it wasn't a fluke, I went back there two weeks later and landed another hatchery fish, about 25 - 27". So I found the saying to be true: "you just have to cover water until you find that one willing fish".
By Paul Johnston