Gila Trout

The Gila trout is native to a small area of west central New Mexico and an adjoining area of Arizona in the White Mountains. It is a cousin of the Apache Trout. Early settlers referred to these trout as "yellow bellies" due their coloration. The US Geographical Survey collected specimens of the Apache trout in 1873 and referred to it as as Colorado River cutthroat trout. The Apache trout have fewer, larger spots than the Gila trout.

By 1967, when the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Serivce listed the Gila trout as endangered, the trouts range had been reduced from several hundred miles of stream to about 20 miles in the Gila Wilderness and Aldo Leopold Wilderness, both in New Mexico. This resulted from loss of habitat, over fishing (in spite of being closed to fishing in the 1950s) and cross breeding and predation by non-native trout. The loss of habit is attributed to cattle grazing, agricultural practices and fires resulting from human activity.

Following the trout being listed as endangered, USFWS began a program of stream restoration, removing non-native trout, restoring and repairing riparian vegetation, and restocking restored streams. However, the Center for Biological Diversity
filed a 60 day notice of intent to sue the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service due to a wholly inadequate Gila Trout Recovery Plan: "The plan completely ignores the effects of grazing on trout habitat. It only provides for down-listing,not de-listing of the species. And finally, the plan focuses on reintroducing Gila Trout to individual headwater streams, whereas the great weight of evidence indicates that only protection of entire watersheds will guarantee continued existence of the Gila Trout."

The species is now more secure than it was in the 1970s, having been moved to 10 new streams, though populations and habitat are still far below those originally established. A limited fishing season has been established in the Gila Wilderness.

Steelhead Back Roads, Northern British Columbia Fall 2007 -- On The Edge of Maddness

I had just returned from four great days of rainbow fishing on the Kvichak River in Bristol Bay, Alaska and already I was thinking about fall steelhead fishing in British Columbia. I was booked for a spring 2008 trip with Gill McKean of West Coast Fishing Adventures out of Terrace, but something was nagging me that I should move the trip up 6 months. I called Gill to see what he had booked and how late he thought we could get fish. We talked about going north and fishing the Bell-Irving and Meziadin Rivers out of Stewart; the best time for me was late October. Gill had a potential client from Sweden that was also interested.

The Swedish client wouldn't commit and in the end I decided to fish by myself for 5 days starting October 23nd; the trip was set. I was to fly to Terrace out of Seattle, Gill would pick me up at the airport and we'd be on our way to Stewart, and that's the way it happened. We arrived in Stewart as it was getting dark, dropped the jet boat off at a friends home and checked into our hotel. After a couple of beers I was ready to call it a night, it had a been a long day and tomorrow would be here soon.

The next morning I met Gill in the restaurant. It was raining hard and as we ate breakfast and waited for our take-out lunches it turned to snow; it started to snow hard. It was still dark when we placed our gear in the truck and headed out of town. There is a long uphill grade as you leave Stewart, a pass, and the snow increased as we gained altitude. Plows had been through some time during the night but driving treacherous even with the big 4-wheel drive turbo diesel. At one point a grizzly crossed the road about 150 yards ahead of us; seemed late for him to be roaming around.

At the junction with 37 we turned south along Meziadin Lake; we were headed for the confluence of the Meziadin and Nass Rivers. The Meziadin is a short river that drains Meziadin Lake, it is clear whereas the Nass River carries a heavy load of silt. At an old logging road we pulled off the highway and dropped down toward the river. It continued to snow and the heavily snow laden alders were bent across the road in front of us. Finally, we reached the end of the road and I could see where the two rivers came together about a 100 yards from the truck.

It was long before the rods were rigged and we were following a path to the river. The water level in the Meziadin was low as we reached the bank of the river and started out into the current. I followed Gill as we worked our way toward the middle of the stream us above where it flowed into the Nass; the clear water of the Meziadin in stark contrast with the muddy Nass. We looked over the pools and Gill instructed me to cast to the seam between the two water colors. I was using my 8/9-weight switch rod with an egg pattern and strike indicator. I watched the line hit the water and followed the strike indicator as it followed the line between the two rivers and then suddenly the strike indicator went under and I was hooked into a good steelhead, on the first cast! At first the fish hung in the current but suddenly it came at me and I struggled to get the slack out. The fish came to the surface, rolled and my line went limp. I just wasn't ready for a fish on the first cast, and I blew the opportunity and I knew it. On the other hand I thought, wow, there must be a lot of fish here.




An hour later, I still hadn't had another take. We moved around a little, and changed egg patterns but nothing. Gill decided to move upstream so we hiked back to the truck retracing our drive in and then turning onto another logging road and down to a bridge that crossed the river. The river below the bridge fell-off rapidly in a series of rapids a rather sharp bend to the left; above the bridge was a long, wide pool 4-6 feet deep that looked promising. I moved up the left bank and out into the pool and started drifting egg patterns. A half hour later I returned to the truck to eat lunch.

After lunch I crossed the river and took a position on the right bank below the bridge. The river narrowed here and the current was fast. There was a deep seem in front of me and I cast upstream as far as possible to allow the egg to sink before hitting the hole. There was not much room to move down stream due to overhanging vegetation and the manner in which the bottom dropped off. I must have made 20-30 casts when suddenly I had a strike and hooked the fish. It had the current behind it as line started to peel off my reel, the fish jumped clear of the water and threw hook. It was over almost as fast as it started. I continued to work the hole for a while and then moved up above the bridge. The day ended steelhead 2, fly fisher 0.






The next day started cold and clear. We retraced the previous days footsteps and started at the confluence of the rivers. After a hour or so, not a take. We tried swinging some flies and still nothing. I went back to egg patterns and finally had a strike almost at my feet, it felt like a good fish but suddenly it was off and I was batting 0 for 3. After another 30 minutes or so and no take we moved back upstream, fished above and below the bridge without success and then had lunch. Tracks in the snow suggested that others had been to this spot earlier in the day. After lunch we crossed the bridge and drove to what looked like an old trail that paralleled the river. It was well above the river. Finally, we dropped of the trail and into the woods. The trailed ended up across from where we had been fishing in the morning. There was a large deep pool on this side of the river and it was immediately clear that if a hooked fish was allowed to leave the pool there would be no way of stopping it the turbulent water that rimmed the area. That didn't turn out to be problem because after an hour we didn't a single take decided to hike back to the truck and return to Stewart.

On day three we decided to move up the Casiar Highway to the Bell-Irving. This required the jet boat which we retrieved after breakfast. Cold and clear again as we pulled out of Stewart. As we headed north on the Casiar the mountains were heavy with fresh snow. The drive took about 1.5 hours on extremely icy roads; at one point a tractor-trailer lay on its side in a ditch. We came to a spot where the Bell-Irving was close to the highway and pulled off the road and down to the river at spot that appeared to be used to launch boats. Another guide with 3 clients pulled in almost behind us. They had fished this section of the river earlier in the week and landed one fish for 3 rods. They launched first and headed downstream, we followed and went upstream. The river was fairly low and log jams eventually blocked our progress. We beached the boat and waded upstream. We fished various holes for over an hour without any takes and then returned to the boat. We drift and fished from the boat, pasted the launch point and continued downstream. We saw several fresh bear tracks along the way.


We fished several stretches of river downstream without success. The clear morning turned to overcast and remained cold with occasional flurries. Discouraged we returned to the truck, pulled the boat from the river and motored back to Stewart.

That evening Gill and I decided to return to Terrace and do some late season coho fishing and to try for steelhead in streams along the way . The next morning we pulled out of Stewart and headed south. Me made three stops along the way but I luck didn't change; no steelheads. We pulled into Terrace late afternoon had and early dinner and I checked into a motel.

The next morning Gill picked me up a daybreak and we headed west toward Prince Rupert. Highway 16 follows the right bank of the Skeena River. At the Exchamsiks we pulled into a parking lot and launched the jet boat under the bridge. For almost an hour we ran up the valley which is lined by spectacular peaks with hanging glaciers and waterfalls. The weather was heavy overcast and raining.



The Exchamsiks snakes back and forth up the valley. Visibility in the water is excellent although the water is the color of dilute tea. The air temperature was considerably warmer than the past 4 days. We saw several groups of coho; the plan was not to stop, but to fish our way downstream. We went as far up the river as possible by jet boat and then got out to wade in a long deep pool. We tried a variety flies and caught one Dolley Varden and several white fish on egg patterns but no coho. We moved downstream where we spotted some coho earlier and I switched to clouser and finally hooked a good coho and then a second one shortly thereafter. The fish were still fairly bright considering how late it in the season. I hooked and released one more coho, a dark male, before we called it day and the end of my first fall steelhead trip.



I was disappointed that I had hooked 3 steelhead but failed to bring any to the net and Gill was generally disappointed in the number of steelhead we encountered. Commercial fishing near the mouth of the Skeena River earlier in the season had taken it's toll on the summer/fall steelhead return with the result that many guides had moved north in search of fish. That combined with evidence that individuals were using bait in the Meziadin (illegally) may have impacted that fishery, but for whatever reason the fish just weren't there. In spite of all that it was a fun trip and I will definitely do it again.

Kvichak Magic 2007

Probably the best rainbow trout fishing in the world is found around Bristol Bay, Alaska near the head of the Alaska Peninsula. The rainbows exist because of the salmon that return to spawn in the rivers that feed into Bristol; they return by the millions. The rainbows thrive on the eggs, flesh and frey of the salmon. The Kvichak is one of best salmon and rainbow rivers in the region; it flows from Lake Iliamna to Bristol bay, a distance of about 60 miles. The best rainbow fishing is in the "braids" near the head of the river just downstream from the village of Igiugig.

Several members of AlaskaFlyFish.Net traveled to the Kvichak the last week of September 2007 in the pursuit of rainbow trout; I was one of the group. Planning for the trip started in the fall of 2006. The plan called for 4-8 days of fishing, essentially two 4-day windows; I was in the first nine-man group. We stayed at Blueberry lodge, which is situated on an island about 2 miles downstream from Igiugig. The braids are about 2 miles below the lodge.

Our group (nine) flew from Anchorage to Igiugig, a 1.5 hour trip. We departed Merrill Field at daybreak in a Navajo Chieftain, flew south and west across Cook Inlet,and then up through Lake Clark Pass. The Pass is the preferred route to Lake Clark when weather permits. The flight through the pass is up narrow canyons well below the surrounding peaks. Rivers flow through the canyons and we saw several brown bears on the gravel bars and in the water in their search for salmon. There was a lot of turbulence in the the canyons. The weather was overcast and flew through several rain squalls. We flew along the north shore of Lake Clark, over the village of Nondalton and then along the north shore of Lake Iliamna. As we approached the community of Iliamna the plane turned out across the lake toward Igiugig. As we approached Igiugig the plane made a wide, slow turn, I could see the Kvichak, braids to the south and the village on the south side of the river. The plane touched down and we taxied to the terminal where we were greeted by the owner of Blueberry Lodge and another member of our group that had flown in the day before in his private plane. It was raining when we climbed out of the plane.




Our gear was unloaded from the plane and placed in a waiting pickup truck. The group walked from the airstrip to the river where the gear was loaded in waiting boats for the 20-minute trip downstream to Blueberry Lodge. We unloaded the boats, picked our rooms and started getting ready for the afternoons fishing; the rain continued. The lodge owner lodge gave us a brief orientation, showed us the braids on an aerial photo and discussed what flies were working for the rainbows; beads had been working earlier but flesh flies were starting to be more productive. After a hurried lunch we were anxious to get on the river.

We used three boats with three to boat; this allowed two of us to fish while one rowed when we drifted. The boats raced downstream one behind the other; I fished with John and Mike. The water is crystal clear with a bottom predominantly of gravel, cobbles and some sand. As we approached the braids the boats split up in different channels of the river. It was over cast and raining when we started our first drift. We all started by dead drifting beads, a 6-8mm bead held in place about 2 inches above an egg hook, then a couple of split shoot about 18 inches above that and finally a strike indicator near the top of the leader. These rainbows are not leader shy and so 8-13 pound tippets are commonly used. We made a couple of drifts around the top of an island to a spot where there was a steep drop off. We picked up a couple of greyling but no rainbows.


From there we moved to a narrow channel between the island and the main bank of the river and waded several pools as we worked our way downstream. Toward the bottom of the channel where it re-entered one of the main channels we connected with several nice rainbows. These fish hit hard and fought hard. One of the their tactics was to race downstream and then do a 180 and come back at you jumping. During the next few days several nice rainbows gained their freedom that way!


After the hole quieted down we moved back toward the top of the braids and the main channel of the river and started a drift. The sky remained dark and threatening The river was 6-8 feet deep with a fairly strong current. We hadn't gone far when John hooked into a good fish and Mike eased the boat toward the bank so that John could get out to fight it. The rainbow took John almost into his backing, using the current to it's advantage. Slowly John worked the fish into shallower water and Mike was able to get the net under it. John definitely had the hot hand on day one!


We climbed back into the boat and continued our drift downstream. This was a day of exploration and learning the river. In the remaining hours several more rainbows were landed and we felt pretty positive about our prospects for the next few days. We only saw a couple of other boats that afternoon; this late in the season, the few lodges in the area are in the process of closing and so we had the river pretty much to ourselves. That evening at Blueberry Lodge we learned that that two 29-inch rainbow had been landed by an individual in one of the other boats.





Over the course of the next several days the weather was cold, clear, windy, rainy, sometimes all in one day. Rainbows were taken on beads, flesh flies, leaches, sculpins and streamers. The biggest rainbows included a 31, 2-29s and 28 inch fish. Numerous fish were landed between 25 and 27 inches. Pound for pound these are the hardest fighting freshwater fish I have ever caught. The following is a photo montage from the trip, it enjoy it:

San Juan River, New Mexico

There's a spot in northern New Mexico called Four Corners, where you can stand on four states at one time: New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado and Utah. Not far from there, near Aztec, New Mexico, the San Juan River begins it's journey to the Colorado River at the base of Navajo Dam, a large earthen dam completed in 1963. The dam impounds snow melt from the Colorado Rockies just a few miles to the north. The 400 foot high dam was constructed to provide irrigation water to the region.

The San Juan River below Navajo Dam holds about 80,000 trout, rainbows and browns, in the first 4.5 miles. It is one of the best tailwater fisheries in the United States and is designated quality water. The average trout is about 17 inches long, but there are plenty of trout over 20 inches. Trout thrive in the river because of the water released from the dam is 40F year around and as a result you can fish the river 365 days a year. I fished the San Juan on December 26th in 2007 and had a 20-fish day.

The first time I fished the San Juan was truly a learning experience; something I had never done before. The preferred technique is nymphing with a variety of #18-#22 midges and emergers, although dry flies and even wooly buggers can be quite productive. I use a 8'-6", 5 wt rod with a floating line, a 10-12 foot 5X tappered leader and a 6X tippet; these fish are very leader shy. Two flies are attached to the leader, an attractor, and then a second fly about a foot below that. Small split shot are pinched onto the leader about 18 inches above the attractor, and then a strike indicator is positioned several feet above the split shot; the exact position of the indicator depends on water depth. The idea is to get the flies down on the bottom and drifting naturally, which means absolutely no drag and a lot of line mending. You can fish from a drift boat or wade; I like to do both.

The relatively cold water and the presence of lots of insects insure rapid growth rates in the San Juan. I read somewhere that a San Juan trout has to consume about 3000 midges per day just to maintain its weight, even more to gain weight. If you do the math that means that each trout is taking a midge every 30 seconds! If you take a sample from the stomach of one of these trout it will generally be chock full of midges and other small insects.

At times there is a lot of fishing pressure on the San Juan and for that reason I prefer to fish it on weekdays between October and March and I have never had a bad day on the river, whatever that means. One might think that fish in a river like this would be "beat up", but I have found the fish to be in very good condition. In the first 4.5 miles of the river fishing is strictly catch-and-release with barbless hooks; although that is the only way I fish everywhere I fish.

Steelhead Back Roads, Spring 2007 Northern BC

My first experience fishing for steelheads was in the spring of 2007. A steelhead is a sea-run rainbow trout. They return to fresh water to spawn and then, unlike a salmon which dies after spawning, they go back to saltwater. In North America, steelhead can be found from northern California to Alaska; they have also been introduced to the Great Lakes. In the Pacific Northwest many of the steelhead are hatchery fish, but in British Columbia there are still good runs of wild steelhead. Alaska steelhead are wild and can be found as far north and west as Kodiak Island and the Alaska Peninsula. The largest steelhead can get to be 40 pounds, although 10-20 pound fish are more common.

I chose northern British Columbia to try my luck at steelhead, specifically the area around Terrace. My route to Terrace was from Ketchikan by ferry to Prince Rupert, where I cleared customs, and then by Greyhound Bus to Terrace. Spring was late coming and the coastal mountains along the Alaska panhandle and British Columbia had about 140% of the normal snow pack. I arrived in Prince Rupert on March 30th . Had I arrived a day earlier I would have had to wait for an avalanche to be cleared from the road between Prince Rupert and Terrace, which follows the north bank of Skeena River. The Skeena river is rimmed by steep mountains, in many places almost to waters edge. It has an enormous drainage that includes some of the most famous steelhead rivers in North America, such as the Babine, Kispiox, and Bulkley.

Prince Rubert is the only connection to the Alaska Marine Highway System on Canadian soil. Historically, Prince Rupert was a commercial fishing center but now has a major port connected to the rest of Canada by the Canadian Northern Railway. It is about 150 km (90 mi.) from Prince Rupert to Terrace. In Terrace I was met by Gill McKean, my guide and owner of Westcoast Fishing Adventures. I spent the next six days fishing with Gill and staying at is lovely home in Terrace. The names of the rivers and places we fished are unimportant, but they were all within 100km of Terrace.



It seemed appropriate to start fishing on April Fool's day. It was clear and cold (-2C) when we left the house in the morning. We drove to the point where we launched the pontoon boat after lowering it down a steep bank onto a gravel bar. It was my first look at the river, which was gin-clear and about 150 feet wide at this location. The bottom of the river was carpeted with rounded cobbles. For the most part, the section of the river that we fished had a gravel or stony bottom, although there some areas where the bottom was sandy. The water depths varied from a foot or two to holes that were 10-15 feet deep. I classified the gradient of the river as moderate.




The plan was to do a combination of drifting and wading throughout the day depending on where we were in the river. I rigged my 8 wt. single-handed rod with floating line, a 12 foot leader and a 13# tippet. My plan was to dead drift egg patterns in a manner similar to nymphing. This required a couple of split shot above the egg and a strike indicator about 10 feet above that. Gill tied the egg patterns using a barbless #4 egg hook with a snell loop to hold the yarn-like material that formed the carefully trimmed egg. Over the course of the week we used a variety of colors and combinations of colors, mostly pinks, white and chartreuse.



I took the front casting platform and Bill, a friend of Gill's, took the back as we pushed out into the current. It was a gorgeous sunny morning, but cold for this time of year. Most days it never got warmer than 3C. The idea is to get your egg down near the bottom and drifting naturally in the current. This requires constantly mending line to prevent drag. We navigated along seams and drop-offs, sometimes along cut banks between long pools. The river meanders quite a bit. The heads and tail-outs of pools are particularly good holding points for steelhead. We reached a long straight run of water and pulled out to wade. The pool was less than 100 feet wide, 2-5 feet deep and over 500 feet long. Bill took the head of the pool and I moved toward the center. Bill switched from eggs to swinging a bright, pink streamer with his spey rod while I continued to drift egg patterns.

It was not long before Bill tied into a good fish. It stayed at the upper end of the pool and I was too far down stream to see what he had, but it wasn't too long before he worked a bright, 20-pound, trophy male steelhead to shore, lifted it from the water just long enough for Gill to snap a couple of photos and and then gently eased it back into the water. Not 15 minutes passed when Bill hooked a second fish almost in the same spot as the first one. This turned out to be a bright chrome female, not as large as the male but still a very nice fish; these were probably a mating pair. The following photos are Bill's two fish.





By now the upper part of the pool had been pretty stirred up and we continued to wade downstream. Finally, I had a couple of takes just below where a side stream entered the main channel from the opposite bank and hooked what turned out to be a nice cutthroat trout, not what we were after, but beautiful specimen that at least broke the ice. In the end, we caught a couple of more cutthroats and then broke for lunch. During the week we caught other cutthroats but no rainbow or dolly varden trout in this river. The following is a photo of me holding a typical cutthroat; notice the stony bottom and clear water.



In the afternoon I hooked a steelhead from the boat partway through a fast section of water. The fish immediately headed upstream as we continued downstream and then suddenly it was off. I never saw it but it felt like a good fish. I had one more take that day, which I failed to hook, and we saw another nice steelhead from the boat as we drifted downstream. At about 5:30P we reached the takeout point; the the sun was low on the horizon and I could feel the air temperature starting to drop. We had to pull the pontoon boat across a gravel bar, into a slough and then another 100 yards or so to the where the truck had been shuttled during the day. With the pontoon boat loaded on the pick-up we headed toward Terrace and that ended my first day of steelhead fishing, a great day inspite of not having landed one!

That evening Frank from Tucson arrived in Terrace. We had never met, but for the next 5 days we would fish together. Frank had fished with Gill before, but in the fall, never in the spring. There are basically two migrations of steelhead a spring run and a fall run; some rivers have both. Like Bill, Frank is a spey caster. The next morning was cold and clear and the river had obviously dropped during the night, which wasn't a good omen. Steelhead are sometimes spooked by clear water and bright sunlight with the result that they head for cover, deep holes and log piles. This isn't fatal when you're fishing with spinning rods and fresh eggs, but it makes fly fishing very difficult. Frank and Gill swung flies and I continued to dead-drift egg patterns. We had a couple of takes during the day but no steelhead were hooked.

The third day dawned even colder, it was -3C when we started our drift. Over night the river had fallen another six inches; more clear, cold weather and not a take all day. The forecast for the next day was for more cold clear weather and that evening it was decided to move to another river the next day.

On day four we hiked into a small coastal stream; it was -4C when we headed west from Terrace. We hiked into the stream from the road. It was a much smaller flow, with dark water, characteristic of British Columbia and southeastern Alaska rivers. The color comes from organics. The stream was 30-40 feet wide, had a relatively steep gradient, with steep side slopes formed by exposed bedrock. The dark water and bedrock, often slippery, can make wading treacherous. Several hours fishing resulted in one rainbow. Clearly the steelhead had not moved into the river. By the time we returned to Terrace the temperature had risen to 6C and it was cloudy; hopefully it would stay warm and create snow melt to cause the rivers to start rising.



When I woke the next morning there was a mixture of wet snow and rain and for the first time since I had arrived in Terrace the temperature was above freezing. After breakfast we headed back to the where we had started the week and clearly a melt was underway. The water at the launch point had some color, which is what we had hoped. We quickly rigged up and pushed off. A short distance downstream we pulled out to wade a straight section of relatively fast water that was about 2-4 feet in depth; we had three rods fishing. It wasn't long before I hooked a fish, it took line and put a pretty good set in my 8 wt rod; hopefully this was a steelhead. Finally, as I worked the fish into shallow water it was clearly a small male steelhead, not the trophy I had come for, but my first steelhead and hopefully a sign of better things to come. After a couple of photos I released the fish and all three of us grabbed our rods with renewed enthusiasm.




Not much time had passed when Gill hooked a really good fish. It put a good set in his heavy spey rod and was clearly a big fish. The fish stayed in the middle of the river hugging the bottom. For several minutes the fish didn't move much up or downstream. Slowly Gill gained line, and after maybe 10 minutes the fish was in knee-deep water and appeared to be large chrome female. I don't think Gill realized how large the fish really was until he looked at the photographs that evening; our guess is 18-pounds. It was taken on a pink streamer while my earlier fish was taken on an egg pattern. Things were looking up!





We fished this section of the river for a little longer before getting back into the boat to work our way down stream. We fished the hole hard where Bill had caught 2 big steelhead a few days before, but except for a couple of cutthroat trout, nothing. At about mid-afternoon, I was in the front of the boat as we approached a spot where a side-stream entered the river. There was a fallen tree at the upstream side with branches pointing downstream into the current. As we neared the tree Gill instructed me to drop my egg directly off the tip of the branches. My fly hadn't been in the water 30 seconds when the strike indicator went under; I quickly pulled up and was hooked into a heavy fish. At first, it came to the surface, which confirmed it was a good size steelhead. Then the fish decided it wanted to go upstream toward the fallen tree. I didn't want to put too much pressure on it and break it off, but I also didn't want wrapped up in the tree. Gill slipped over the side of the pontoon boat and worked it toward the middle of the river to give me more fighting room. Finally, the fish turned and started to come toward us and then headed downstream. By this time we were in shallower water, almost on the opposite side of the river, and Gill had me slide over the side so I could fight the fish from shore. Several more minutes passed and now the fish was in shallow water near my feet; it was a nice bright female. Gill tailed the fish, a 15-pounder, we took some photographs and then released it; as far as I was concerned my trip was complete.



By now it was fairly late in the day and so we continued downstream. I had one more strike before we reached the takeout but did not hook-up.

The following morning was rainy and 6C; this would be our last day and Frank still needed a steelhead. We reached the run where I had gotten my first steelhead the previous day and we spread out; I took the head of the run near the far bank. After about 15 minutes I had a strike and it felt like a good fish. I worked it for a short period and then suddenly I realized I was hooked on the bottom, but well above the point where I had felt the initial strike. Finally, I concluded that I did, in fact, have a fish on, but it had taken me upstream and in the process my line got under a rock and the fish broke off. For the first time we saw another angler ahead of us on the river.

After a while we continued our drift downstream, reaching the pool where Bill had taken the two steelhead. Gill took the head of the pool, Frank the middle and I started just above where a side-stream entered the river, and where I taken a couple of cutthroat. This time I fished further downstream, around a bend and then along a cut bank with fallen trees along the edge. The water was the color of weak tea, having darkened some over night from the snow melt and light rain. I tossed my fly just upstream of one of trees, mended the line, and watched the strike indicator pass along the edge of the log. As the strike indicator passed the point where the log disappeared into the water it suddenly went under and I set the hook in a heavy fish. I could feel it shaking its head, it came to the surface and rolled and then went under again. I was out of site and sound of both Frank and Gill, and so whatever was going to happen here was going to be all my doing. I wanted to keep the fish away from the tangle of trees on the far bank and tried working it toward the middle of the river. It started to come my way. I was hoping that either Gill or Frank would show up, for moral support. Suddenly, my line went slack; the hook pulled out. As I started upstream toward the boat I saw it coming toward me and slipped over the side and back into it when it reached me. We fished the remaining section of the pool where I had just missed the steelhead, but without any luck.

It was starting to rain harder now, and getting darker and foggy; the trip was almost over. Frank was at the tail-out of a large pool, probably the last one we were going to fish. The river made a sweeping bend at the tail-out then dropped quickly through a series a rapids into another pool blow, forming a kind of S-curve. The current was very strong at the tail-out. Frank was casting toward some brush in the water on the opposite bank and letting his fly sink and swing just above where the rapids started. He must have made 20-30 casts when suddenly I heard a yell. At first I thought it came from above me and I looked toward Gill. Then I heard Frank holler again, and this time I looked downstream and saw that he was hooked into a good fish, which was rolling and thrashing on the surface. Frank had been waist-deep in the river when the fish struck and he was trying to back toward the bank and keep the fish from going into the rapids. By now Gill was aware of the situation and yelled for Frank to let the fish run, that we would follow it to the lower hole, with the boat if necessary. It was about that point that the fish broke off, so close yet so far. We drifted a few more holes as we worked our way toward the take-out, but it was pretty dark by now and clear that the trip was over.