Boy am I looking forward to this trip. This was the feeling I had in anticipation of a trip on the Deschutes river near the end of September. There were four of us going; Steve, Tom, Craig and I, a great group of guys. I say this because when we assemble gear, load for the trip, inflate boats and load at the launch point it is a combined effort (precision in motion). This helps makes the trip memorable for all of us.
Three o'clock may come early, but we like to get the most out of each day. This is a vacation! We arrived around seven o'clock on the bank of the Deschutes river, we assembled two inflatable, loaded the gear, parked the rigs, shoved off and proceeded to kick back and take in the scenery. The sun rose over the canyon wall lighting the basalt rock and the dried bunch grass, a pleasant change from concrete civilization.
We floated thirty miles of river running many rapids, even some class three. By mid-afternoon we arrived at camp. The first order of business was to set up the kitchen - a pop up canopy, two aluminum pack boxes, two tables, two stoves, a lantern and wa-la, we could cook. Next we leveled the ground for our tents, set up sleeping quarters and the camp was in order.
Guess what I did next? You guessed it - I went fishing. I couldn't go far since it was almost dark. I quickly put together my brand new fourteen foot Spey rod and took off. I waded knee deep into the river and began rolling out line using the single spey method. Casting a Spey rod is easy if you understand line positioning and set up for the cast. The English have a saying, when the fly is on the dangle and the fish have passed it by, raise the dangle to an angle err you cast the fly. So much for lessons.
Fifty feet down stream from my starting point I hooked into a fish. I hollered at the guys and they came running with cameras in hand. I landed a nice eighteen to twenty inch trout, which I quickly released. And with that dark closed in and it was time for dinner - Chicken Cordon Bleu - we always have great meals.
The next morning we were up before daylight, donned our waders and other fishing gear, grabbed our rods and headed for a likely spot to catch a steelhead. We fished hard without success. It was mid-morning and time for breakfast, a quick bowl of cereal.
I had fished this river many times and had yet to catch a steelhead on a flyrod. Tom and I walked down the river about a mile. There were other fishermen, so finding a spot that would hold fish was difficult. Tom caught a nice steelhead at his lucky Gilbert Hole and I still had not caught a fish.
Daylight was gone so we headed back to camp. Both of us were glad that we had our flashlights because it is a well known fact that you will run across rattlesnakes on the Deschutes River. We had another fine meal and told lies about past fishing experiences.
The next morning Tom was determined to get me into a steelhead. We walked down river to a hole he calls the Tuft Hole. Wading out amongst the large boulders, waist deep in the current, we began casting our flies. I saw fish rising below me and a good seventy feet further out. I worked slowly down stream to where they were and whump! fish on! and then snap! my line went dead. I made a mistake. I had taken for granted the wind knot in my leader would hold. I was wrong. My first fish was gone taking my fly with him. We continued fishing the lie.
Moving down river I could see a large boulder submerged beneath the surface, a good place for a steelhead to hole up. Using the double Spey casting technique I placed my Dalles fly just past the vee created by the boulder. So named because the pattern was given to Tom at this very hole years ago by a guy that lives in the town of the Dalles. Several times I placed the fly right behind the rock and swung it across the current with great expectations. Finally a fish slammed the fly and I immediately raised my rod to secure the hook. The fish shook violently and made his run. Down the river he raced peeling line off my reel. The leader tippet was eight pounds so I applied only enough pressure to keep from breaking my line. The fish had me quickly into the backing and was not slowing down. It appeared to be headed back to the Columbia River. I looked down at my reel and knew two hundred yards of backing would soon be gone. I turned around exclaiming to Tom "I'm running out of line!" and headed for the shore. After making it to the shoreline, I scrambled down river as the fish continued stripping line from my reel. The fish stopped at the head of the rapids and I began reeling the backing onto my reel gaining ground. Once again the fish headed down river - this time through the rapids. The Deschutes is a big river and if he didn't stop he would spool me. Luckily he stopped in the middle of the rapids. I continued reeling and walking down stream. Finally, I caught up to the fish and was able to tail him. The fish was at least twelve pounds or better. I was not able to hold onto him by the tail so I led him over to the shore by the leader. I laid my rod down in the water next to my fish so I could determine its size in a photograph. Then I released the buck back to the river. (Later the picture revealed the fish was thirty five inches long and the weight estimation would put the fish at fourteen pounds.) You can imagine the smile I had on my face for the rest of the trip. It was the only fish I caught, but I could not complain given the size and the sensational run.
By Robin L. Kaup