T Loop
01-25-2003, 06:37 PM
Ok guys, here is an actual fishing story in addition to my introduction.
Last summer, my fiancé and I went backpacking and camping in the Olympics. After hiking into an alpine lake and catching a few tiny brook trout, we decided to head over to the coast side and visit the Hoh rainforest. We camped in a beautiful spot right on the river. There were lots of beautiful runs to fish and hardly anyone else fishing. The only problem was the river, it looked high, fast and the color of Grandma's sausage gravy. I tied on a huge weighted pink bunny leech and proceeded to fish a great little run of about 200 yards length anyway, but could not get into a good rhythm. The combination of the heavily weighted fly and my uncertainty about the water conditions were not conducive to smooth casting. I don't know how many times that fly hit me in the back of my head. Then I finally hit myself on the thumb, driving the hook into and back out of the flesh on the back of my thumb to the bend of the hook. Ouch, I'm glad I fish barbless. I settled myself down and continued through the run. The farther down I waded the farther out I went and I began to realize the run wasn't nearly as deep as I thought. As I turned to comment on this interesting fact to my fiancé, "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz" my reel screamed. I lifted my rod and was into a nice fish, the first steelhead I had ever hooked! It made four or five strong runs and I'd say it took me into the backing, but I'd be lying. I finally brought it in close enough to see. It was a beautiful wild fish, big shouldered with a bright red stripe down the side, probably 12-15 lbs. Man, I wanted to land that fish just to get a closer look at it. Just as I was bringing the exhausted fish to hand, it casually threw the hook and slowly swam away. I just sat down on the bank and looked at the sky, I was stunned. Then I laughed. I had triumphed over adversity and almost landed my first steelhead on a fly. All those hours of casting and fishless trips had finally payed off. I couldn't stop grinning for the rest of the trip.
Last summer, my fiancé and I went backpacking and camping in the Olympics. After hiking into an alpine lake and catching a few tiny brook trout, we decided to head over to the coast side and visit the Hoh rainforest. We camped in a beautiful spot right on the river. There were lots of beautiful runs to fish and hardly anyone else fishing. The only problem was the river, it looked high, fast and the color of Grandma's sausage gravy. I tied on a huge weighted pink bunny leech and proceeded to fish a great little run of about 200 yards length anyway, but could not get into a good rhythm. The combination of the heavily weighted fly and my uncertainty about the water conditions were not conducive to smooth casting. I don't know how many times that fly hit me in the back of my head. Then I finally hit myself on the thumb, driving the hook into and back out of the flesh on the back of my thumb to the bend of the hook. Ouch, I'm glad I fish barbless. I settled myself down and continued through the run. The farther down I waded the farther out I went and I began to realize the run wasn't nearly as deep as I thought. As I turned to comment on this interesting fact to my fiancé, "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz" my reel screamed. I lifted my rod and was into a nice fish, the first steelhead I had ever hooked! It made four or five strong runs and I'd say it took me into the backing, but I'd be lying. I finally brought it in close enough to see. It was a beautiful wild fish, big shouldered with a bright red stripe down the side, probably 12-15 lbs. Man, I wanted to land that fish just to get a closer look at it. Just as I was bringing the exhausted fish to hand, it casually threw the hook and slowly swam away. I just sat down on the bank and looked at the sky, I was stunned. Then I laughed. I had triumphed over adversity and almost landed my first steelhead on a fly. All those hours of casting and fishless trips had finally payed off. I couldn't stop grinning for the rest of the trip.