Work was slow so I took the opportunity for a little fishing. Leaving Salem at two o'clock in the afternoon I headed for the Nestucca River on the Oregon Coast. I arrived at the Three Rivers Hatchery to check out the hatchery hole and to put on my waders. Seeing no fish, I was off to the Nestucca and my first stop - Farmers Creek put-in. Filled with anticipation and having assembled my fourteen foot spey rod, down to the river I went. I didn't even know if there were any fish in this part of the river. After covering this section of the river and not getting a response, from any fish, I proceeded to wade across the river to the head of the pool where the river cascades into it. Several casts later I landed a nice twelve inch cutthroat and released it gently back into the stream. Still no response from a metal head. Time to move on.
I forded the river and hiked to the bend in the river, one of my favorite spots. Laying out some flyline I worked the narrow point in the stream down to the holding water. It was easy with the long rod. Slowing the presentation on the far bank, I swung the fly behind the rock that interrupted the flow of water in the middle of the stream. Swoosh ! The water boiled and I was into a nice fish. However, the excitement was over as quickly as it had begun, the hook had not found a good hold. So it goes-I picked up the line and made another cast. As the fly swung behind the rock, the water boiled once again and I was into another. It too ended as quickly as it began. Having fished through the run it was time to move on. I walked down to the next pool where the water narrowed and began working the water. I could not believe it, part way down the slot I was into another fish. Painfully it too was lost. (Looking back, this is the most fish I have lost in two years).
Hoping my luck would change I drove up the river to the next known spot, where I hooked and lost yet another Steelhead. By this time I'm thinking, that size seven Alex Jackson spey hook might be too small. But I was catching a few Cutthroat so I decided to stay with the pattern. As evening crept upon me I moved further up the river to another place I knew might hold fish. Casting beyond the boulders along the edge of the deep water, I worked the water slowly - letting the fly swing across the current. Near the end of the fast water, just before it flows into a large pool, I got a savage strike. This time the hook held and I landed a nice seven pound Hatchery fish, which I kept for a family barbecue. As darkness enveloped the river I knew it was time to head home, I was pleased and contented with the beauty of autumn on the river and the bounty it yielded.
By Robin L. Kaup