An Affliction for Steelhead
Written: Jul 30 '00 (Updated Jul 30 '00)
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Product Rating:
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Pros: Big, hard-battling fish
Cons: Very difficult to catch, somewhat strong taste (good smoked)
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| 2manykids's Full Review: Steelhead |
It was cold, a mind-numbing, knee-knocking, freeze-the-coffee-while-it's-still-hot kind of cold. Still, throngs of fishermen lined the banks of the Snake River at Lower Granite Dam. Numerous driftwood fires provided little relief. My back to one fire, I was roasted in the rear, frozen up front. Spiked to the beach was my heavy plunking rod, a bell attached to the tip. Icicles hung from its guides and line stretched taut into the waters of the Snake. Like everyone else, I was here for the steelhead.
Inland steelhead seem to grow much larger than their coastal relatives. From this one place, just above the mass of Lower Granite Dam, I've seen countless 15-25 pound steelies, and a few of over 30 pounds. Rarer are the small, 5-10 pound fish that one finds in coastal Washington rivers. If you're seeking big steelhead, and if you're okay with deep-freeze temperatures, then the Columbia, the Snake, the Clearwater, and the Methow rivers should be on your fishing agenda. Steelhead tactics include: trolling with plugs or spoons, drift-fishing roe or egg flies, bait-fishing below slip-bobbers, or plunking.
What is plunking? This is effective for both steelhead and salmon. Plunkers like the deep, swift pools that are generally hard to fish with other gear. A stiff baitcasting or spinning rod is used--one that is capable of handling weights of 2-6 ounces. On the end of 10-14 pound line, tie a three-way swivel. On one leg of the swivel, tie a short dropper and a heavy, pyramid-shaped sinker. The sharp angles of this weight are designed to catch and hold the bottom, even in the swiftest winter currents.
On the third leg of the swivel goes a leader of 2-3 feet. At the end is your chosen lure: a spin-n-glo, Oakie Drifter, Corkie, or some form of bait. The most widely used baits are small mesh sacks of salmon roe, or large shrimp. Today I was using shrimp. In the Snake's moderate current, I was fishing an ounce of lead. I rigged up the rod, pounded a rod holder into the ice-glazed bank, and lobbed the rig into the Snake. After my weight contacted bottom, I reeled in the slack, tight-lining the rod. With the rod in the holder, I attached my warning bell to the rod tip and set about making coffee over the Chernobyl-sized fire my buddies had built out of abundant driftwood.
"Ding! Ding! ClangClangClangClang...!" I whipped riverward at the sound of my alarm bell. Only ten minutes had passed and the rod tip was jumping wildly to the pulse of a feeding fish. Very calmly, I dropped everything in a panic and skated across frozen gravel to my rod. The air was a blur of pot, water, and coffee grounds but, dangit, I had a fish on! Reaching the rod more or less intact, I quickly removed the bell, cranked in excess slack, and whipped that rod back and overhead in a powerful hook set. In steelhead fishing, this hook set is critical. Set it to them like you intend to yank the fish inside out. I was rewarded with the hard, dead weight of a large fish.
That fish hadn't ever encountered a shrimp that bit back. Surprised, it raced for deep water, head shaking furiously, and peeling yards of line from the reel. I hung on and hoped ice build-up wouldn't jam the guides, causing the line to snap. Marty, one of my more fish-crazy buddies, hastily unpacked a large landing net and took up station behind me. If there's one person I'd like to have around to handle the net, it's Marty.
The fish completed its initial run and I began the task of bringing in yards of line and a heavy fish. Lean back, reel in. Lean back, reel in. This is the mantra of fighting big fish. Lean back to move the fish, quickly lower the rod tip and reel in slack line. Lean back again, drop the tip and reel again. Never, ever fight the fish from the reel--you'll twist and break the line.
After perhaps ten minutes, we could see dark flashes of a heavy fish. It made several more runs and I slowly worked the fish back to the bank. A large crowd had gathered, as is the custom with steelhead fishermen. Experts of all ages offered encouragement and advice. The fish eventually tired and Marty eased the net into the water, waiting for me to bring the fish to him. It came in at last, three feet of dark male, blood-red streaks coloring its flanks. Marty gently eased the net forward from under the tail, scooped, and the fish was ours. Our impromptu audience applauded or cheered, stopped by to see the fish, then returned to their own fishing rods and fires.
The game warden showed up within minutes, an attractive young woman helping with a study on steelhead migration. She checked the important vitals: the fish's length and weight (35" and 15 pounds), and the validity of my license. With my permission, she removed the fish head, except for the lower jaw. The reason? Hatchery-raised steelhead, like my prize, carry micro tags that tell where and when the fish was raised. It's important information so, when asked, permit the fisheries folks to recover these tags. You don't eat the head anyway.
During the fight, someone had brewed a cup of strong, bitter coffee. My rod re-baited and set into its holder, I sat on driftwood, my freezing hands wrapped tightly around a steaming mug of the brew. In keeping with the vagaries of steelhead fishing, we never had another bite all weekend. Oh well! With steelhead, one is enough.
Recommended:
Yes
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Epinions.com ID:
2manykids
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Member: Dave
Location: Jacksonville, Arkansas
Reviews written: 102
Trusted by: 23 members
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