Since moving away in 1995, each return trip to the pacific northwest has a deeper meaning to me. As time pulls me more distant from my memories, each actual moment I get in the mountains, rivers and tiderips gets more potent.
This visit was no different, the apex of which was a fateful moment in a classic run on the mighty Skagit when a big healthy native buck took my fly on a broad swing, cranking the 10wt 15 footer down hard and overdriving my spool deep into the skinny stuff, tearing up the surface with four leaps in this biggest of big native steelhead rivers in the season of legend, the spring native run, the holy grail. But in truth it was the simpler moments that made the trip spectacular.
It was also the ferry ride to the OP, chowing down an Ivars chowder with butterflies in my stomach thinking about the Sol Duc and Hoh. It was FrenchCrk offering a ride, a row, a tying tip, or a glass of doublewood. It was seeing old freinds like Bubba (Bob S) and hearing about the Adventures of Sparky from the sparkmeister himself instead of the evening news . It was shaking the hand of the man who helped save the Forum in a time of need, and capture the archives from Spey pages so nothing was lost, now our webmaster Sean Ransom. It was speding time at Waters West with Dave Steinbaugh again, and outspending everyone at the great flyshop he runs in Port Angeles. It was running into Nate, Skookum, and Bob Ball at ShopRite in Forks. It was almost bumping into Sinktip, and fishing the same hole as Angie, then later another with Ed Ward on the Sauk. It was building up the co-fishing karma with Kush after a stellar Thompson trip last year in preparation for his visit to striper country this summer. It was hanging out with Doublespey, his bride to be, and Leland at Pyramid Brewhouse to wind down before the return flight. It was a freakin' blast.
Heck, just stepping into the waters of a new day with a Speyrod instead of a laptop was sheer joy, and of course the fishing - which far surpassed the catching, was incredible.
For those who have the privilege of living in the PNW, as I did for many years, don't think for a minute that you aren't blessed by what unravels before you with each break of day. I can't wait until I return again, and thanks for the hospitality!
Picture: FrenchCrk (left) and Bubba (right) at the Native Hole
This visit was no different, the apex of which was a fateful moment in a classic run on the mighty Skagit when a big healthy native buck took my fly on a broad swing, cranking the 10wt 15 footer down hard and overdriving my spool deep into the skinny stuff, tearing up the surface with four leaps in this biggest of big native steelhead rivers in the season of legend, the spring native run, the holy grail. But in truth it was the simpler moments that made the trip spectacular.
It was also the ferry ride to the OP, chowing down an Ivars chowder with butterflies in my stomach thinking about the Sol Duc and Hoh. It was FrenchCrk offering a ride, a row, a tying tip, or a glass of doublewood. It was seeing old freinds like Bubba (Bob S) and hearing about the Adventures of Sparky from the sparkmeister himself instead of the evening news . It was shaking the hand of the man who helped save the Forum in a time of need, and capture the archives from Spey pages so nothing was lost, now our webmaster Sean Ransom. It was speding time at Waters West with Dave Steinbaugh again, and outspending everyone at the great flyshop he runs in Port Angeles. It was running into Nate, Skookum, and Bob Ball at ShopRite in Forks. It was almost bumping into Sinktip, and fishing the same hole as Angie, then later another with Ed Ward on the Sauk. It was building up the co-fishing karma with Kush after a stellar Thompson trip last year in preparation for his visit to striper country this summer. It was hanging out with Doublespey, his bride to be, and Leland at Pyramid Brewhouse to wind down before the return flight. It was a freakin' blast.
Heck, just stepping into the waters of a new day with a Speyrod instead of a laptop was sheer joy, and of course the fishing - which far surpassed the catching, was incredible.
For those who have the privilege of living in the PNW, as I did for many years, don't think for a minute that you aren't blessed by what unravels before you with each break of day. I can't wait until I return again, and thanks for the hospitality!
Picture: FrenchCrk (left) and Bubba (right) at the Native Hole