Since the board seems to be caught in the winter doldrums, I thought it would be nice to share our first fly caught steelhead or atlantic salmon (And no, they don't have to as long winded as mine!). This is probably just a rehash from a previous thread, but there are a lot of new members (myself included) that could probably contribute.
Rob's post about Joe Howell and his "river" started me thinking/reminiscing, as my first steelheading experience was with this man back in March of '93 where I lucked myself into a winter fish which also happened to be my first steelhead. That, however, is another story for another day.
Now my life is the result of an out of control chain reaction that has lead me on the single minded pursuit of steelhead with a yearly special treat chasing atlantics in Quebec.
The story I want to share is my first MSW Atlantic caught and released June 8, 1998. After poking around in Ireland and Scotland while on vacation (Now I could not leave my fly rod home, could I?) catching a few grilse, I decided it was time to try for the big boys closer to home.
I ended up booking Glen Emma water on the Matapedia June 1 to June 8, and also arranged permits to fish the public sector during the mornings and afternoons. The first 5 days of the trip I spent 14 hours a day casting and casting and casting...By this time I stopped getting up early and started knapping in the afternoons. Casting 8 solid hours a day on Glen Emma from a canoe, or shore had flat wore me to the bone, and trust me that is saying something. By this point I had also had enough of the bigger spey rods and started to fish my Sage 7136, not really believing that I was going catch anything anyway. But a silly quote from Richard Adams, directed to yours truly, one afternoon stuck in my head "Anytime your fly is in the water you have a chance". Of course in theory this is true, but the karma had all but left my body. I was just going through the motions and re-thinking next years strategy.
I decided that since June 8 is my last day I would get up early and put in a full day to finish with the old college try. I ran up to the Forks to find it busy, so I turned downstream and found Heppel open and made one quick pass and then headed down to Lower Adams. As you could tell, the fishing was slow, still I was amazed to find this pool empty. I hastened to the head of the run and started casting, really just going through the motions. I remember the color of the light as it swept over the forested hill, a remarkable orange for 5:45AM. I remember the smell of the dew as it was burning off of the grass, and I will ALWAYS remember seeing my fly being snatched out of a wave. I caught this peripherally, and it is permanently etched into my psyche. There was a snout and small explosion of breaking water and then the line went tight. At this moment all time stood still, I was in complete disbelief. Couple that with THE massive rush a adrenaline, it nearly choked me up with tears of joy. The fish indecisively swam around for about 15 seconds then pointed her nose downstream for the most powerful run in all of freshwater fishing.
Lower Adams is not a huge pool by any stretch, probably a hundred and fifty yards from absolute top to the next spill which happens to be a nasty spill where the game would be over if any fish left the pool through this exit. My hen fish streaked a legitimate 80 to 90 yards and then holed up. I was able to walk the embankment and gather my line back where we settled into the proverbial tug of war, about 20 yards above the chute. At this time all I wanted to see was what had taken my fly. Ten minutes later I finally pulled her far enough up in the water column to get a glance in the tea colored water, I estimated her at 25 pounds, or about average for this time of the year.
The next 25 minutes were a series of small deep runs, gain line back and lose it again. I really did not know who was going to give out first, a 7136 is not the best weapon of choice when dealing with a fish of this size. This fight did fit the billing of a series of rounds during a boxing fight.
A few minutes after a villager from St. Florence came down to observe, the fish finally had her will broken and made a run to opposite side and performed a half-belly flop. For a split second she lay in the surface in full view, I was in even more shock as I realized that this fish was larger than 25 pounds and easily over 30.
All I have to say is a big "Thank You" to the kind villager as he helped me tail this fish a few minutes later where I quickly removed the Green Highlander. I then put the fish against the rod and marked its length. One quick cradle and away she went splashing me profusely, while being no worse for the wear. I shook the gentlemans hand, but could not exchange names as he spoke french and I did not.
The fish measured at just under 45 inches and probably weighed 33 to 35 pounds, was full chrome and easily the most magnificent speciman I have ever, or probably ever will see. The feelings evoked by this experience are just as strong today as I write this, and will be just as strong 30 years down the road. Nirvana, and yes Richard was right!
Merry Christmas,
William
Rob's post about Joe Howell and his "river" started me thinking/reminiscing, as my first steelheading experience was with this man back in March of '93 where I lucked myself into a winter fish which also happened to be my first steelhead. That, however, is another story for another day.
Now my life is the result of an out of control chain reaction that has lead me on the single minded pursuit of steelhead with a yearly special treat chasing atlantics in Quebec.
The story I want to share is my first MSW Atlantic caught and released June 8, 1998. After poking around in Ireland and Scotland while on vacation (Now I could not leave my fly rod home, could I?) catching a few grilse, I decided it was time to try for the big boys closer to home.
I ended up booking Glen Emma water on the Matapedia June 1 to June 8, and also arranged permits to fish the public sector during the mornings and afternoons. The first 5 days of the trip I spent 14 hours a day casting and casting and casting...By this time I stopped getting up early and started knapping in the afternoons. Casting 8 solid hours a day on Glen Emma from a canoe, or shore had flat wore me to the bone, and trust me that is saying something. By this point I had also had enough of the bigger spey rods and started to fish my Sage 7136, not really believing that I was going catch anything anyway. But a silly quote from Richard Adams, directed to yours truly, one afternoon stuck in my head "Anytime your fly is in the water you have a chance". Of course in theory this is true, but the karma had all but left my body. I was just going through the motions and re-thinking next years strategy.
I decided that since June 8 is my last day I would get up early and put in a full day to finish with the old college try. I ran up to the Forks to find it busy, so I turned downstream and found Heppel open and made one quick pass and then headed down to Lower Adams. As you could tell, the fishing was slow, still I was amazed to find this pool empty. I hastened to the head of the run and started casting, really just going through the motions. I remember the color of the light as it swept over the forested hill, a remarkable orange for 5:45AM. I remember the smell of the dew as it was burning off of the grass, and I will ALWAYS remember seeing my fly being snatched out of a wave. I caught this peripherally, and it is permanently etched into my psyche. There was a snout and small explosion of breaking water and then the line went tight. At this moment all time stood still, I was in complete disbelief. Couple that with THE massive rush a adrenaline, it nearly choked me up with tears of joy. The fish indecisively swam around for about 15 seconds then pointed her nose downstream for the most powerful run in all of freshwater fishing.
Lower Adams is not a huge pool by any stretch, probably a hundred and fifty yards from absolute top to the next spill which happens to be a nasty spill where the game would be over if any fish left the pool through this exit. My hen fish streaked a legitimate 80 to 90 yards and then holed up. I was able to walk the embankment and gather my line back where we settled into the proverbial tug of war, about 20 yards above the chute. At this time all I wanted to see was what had taken my fly. Ten minutes later I finally pulled her far enough up in the water column to get a glance in the tea colored water, I estimated her at 25 pounds, or about average for this time of the year.
The next 25 minutes were a series of small deep runs, gain line back and lose it again. I really did not know who was going to give out first, a 7136 is not the best weapon of choice when dealing with a fish of this size. This fight did fit the billing of a series of rounds during a boxing fight.
A few minutes after a villager from St. Florence came down to observe, the fish finally had her will broken and made a run to opposite side and performed a half-belly flop. For a split second she lay in the surface in full view, I was in even more shock as I realized that this fish was larger than 25 pounds and easily over 30.
All I have to say is a big "Thank You" to the kind villager as he helped me tail this fish a few minutes later where I quickly removed the Green Highlander. I then put the fish against the rod and marked its length. One quick cradle and away she went splashing me profusely, while being no worse for the wear. I shook the gentlemans hand, but could not exchange names as he spoke french and I did not.
The fish measured at just under 45 inches and probably weighed 33 to 35 pounds, was full chrome and easily the most magnificent speciman I have ever, or probably ever will see. The feelings evoked by this experience are just as strong today as I write this, and will be just as strong 30 years down the road. Nirvana, and yes Richard was right!
Merry Christmas,
William