Excerpt from "Steelheading Die Hard or Insanity?" Part 1

It happened 6 more times to me that day. These fish were so fresh, we didn’t have a
chance. If we went with heavier tippet,
they got leader shy. We were using 8-10
lb. tippet, and out of 4 of us, only one fish got to the bank. Everyone who was fishing around was losing
almost all of them. Once hooked, fish
would come out of the water like dolphins. Flipping, rotating, and doing
everything in their power to break free.
Drag screaming runs, and yells of “Fish on, fish off” were the common
sounds you heard all day. Everyone
walked back to the car with their tails between their legs, but I was more
determined than ever.
I didn’t sleep that much that
night. The rush of the hook up and
battle consumed my mind. I rehearsed my
fly selection, rigs, knots, and battling the fish all in my head. Back at Douglaston the next day, I lost a
bunch more until I finally brought one to the shore. This fish ran me up river, then back down river,
she jumped a few times, and tried to bully me in the current. It’s not easy to run with frozen feet; I fell
as I backed up onto the bank to get her into Anthony’s reach. Getting up while
holding the rod with your one good arm was a little difficult! Anthony finally picked her up, and put her on
the shore. The obsessive pursuit of the
mighty steelhead was over. All that work
and dedication had finally paid off.
Cold, wet, tired, my first
steelhead.
I wouldn’t land anymore that trip,
but I did get to battle a bunch more. As
we drove home, the smile never came off of my face. Fly fishing for me would never be the same.
I live about 4.5 hours from
Pulaski, N.Y. where the Salmon River is located. It is one of the major tributaries of Lake
Ontario. Usually we leave around 1:30
am, and get there well before legal fishing time. A quick stop to get something to eat, we gear
up in the dark, and walk through the darkness. Sometimes it’s in below freezing
temperatures, rain, sleet, a couple of feet of snow, or just under the light of
the moon, just to get the prime spots we want to fish. Usually, we wait for over an hour on the
bank, talking about what lies ahead, or sometimes just sitting with the sound
of the river. One half hour before
sunrise, legal fishing time, the banks come alive with fishermen and women
casting with the hopes of landing the mighty steelhead.
A fresh chrome fish taken at first
light December 2013.
The battle will test your fishing
intelligence and stamina. The fish want
to run right into any fast water they can get into. Trying to get them under control, and getting
position on them means moving your feet, and trying to run in the water with or
against the current. All this while
trying not to trip and fall into the frigid water. Patience to maneuver the fish into some soft
water will lead to more fish getting to the net. It’s that moment that satisfaction runs
throughout your body, and as a reward, you get to try and do it again.
The hunt for a fresh chrome
steelhead outweighs the elements.
Recently, in the upper part of the river, we were fishing in a downpour
for almost the entire day. We were doing
fairly well too. The rains and melting
snow, excitedly drove us to the lower river to play with some fresh fish. I was rewarded with a nice silver
steelhead. All the soreness left my
back, and legs as I posed with my fish. I
felt very grateful that the fishing gods blessed us with rain and high stained
water that day!
Frank’s fresh steelhead from
February 2014
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