Fishing
Trout bums: It takes a special angler to hook steel

By Randal Sumner
Special to The Seattle Times

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Some anglers will tell you that catching steelhead on a fly is the ultimate trout-fishing experience. They say it's the fish of a thousand casts, that you have to put your time in on the job, pay your dues.

It is a grim business, like breaking rocks at a federal penitentiary or wearing a hair shirt. The horror stories are legendary — the time and money spent, plus the collateral damage incurred at home, all because of a seagoing rainbow trout.

Steelheaders are generally not a happy, carefree bunch of characters. At times, they seem more like a cult ready to break out the Kool-Aid. Enlightenment rarely comes cheap.

Over the last 20 years I have caught, landed and released a pretty fair number of these beautiful fish but I am by no means a steelheader. I lack the right psychological profile to stay focused and grim for long. It's like holding a grudge, not really my cup of tea.

I don't have a lot of rules when it comes to fly-fishing for steelies except I've never kept one. I'm not suggesting to anyone else what to do, but for me it would be the bad mojo.

This fall I received a call from my old partner Dave, saying that he had been steelheading and had hooked 10 fish and landed six. He told me that is as good as it gets — Dave is the king of the understated remark.

My friend Linn Kraft and I left early a few days later to meet Dave on the not-to-be-named river. (Don't all steelheaders try to keep their river spots secret?) The weather was perfect for steelheading, cool and wet. The water had come up a little, and it felt good to get into my nasty old wool sweater.

The actual fishing for steelhead is, for me, a rather dreary bit of work. Dave had us rig up the gear for nymphing with a big cork bobber and a very heavy nymph. The idea is to bonk a big fish on the nose, then hang on when it strikes.

This is just like a regular nymph setup except on steroids, with an 8 wt rod and floating line — not for the lighthearted. Most of my steelhead fishing has been swinging sparsely dressed wet flies on the surface, but like I say, I'll try anything once.

Fly-fishing for steelhead was a new experience for Linn. On the drive to the river, he made up every excuse in the book as to why he would not catch the fish of a thousand casts his first time out. How he was just glad to get out and learn something new, no expectations.
 
Yadda, yadda, yadda. It made me wonder who he thought he was talking to.

After a couple of hours fishing, he was sure he was doing something wrong — until he got The Strike. I was daydreaming a short distance away when I heard the commotion and saw the big fish cartwheeling across the river. I dropped my gear and headed up river with the camera, the fish still airborne.

It was one of those moments of fishing purity: the out-of-body look on Linn's face and the beauty of the big fish in the shallows when I tailed it for him. I took a picture of him with a 9-pound hatchery buck. I also told him it was a fish he could keep, but Linn carefully released it back into the current.

And that, my friends, is why we play the game.

Trout Bums, a column authored alternatively by Randal Sumner and Mark Littleton, appears on the first Tuesday of each month, except on special occasions. Sumner, a fly fisherman since 1972, owns Blue Skies Guide Service on the Yakima River. Littleton, who also lives in Yakima, has been an avid fly fisherman for more than 25 years. Trout Bums can be reached at guides@blueskiesfishing.com.