Blah, Blah, Blah

A Story of Personal Weirdness

Wed, 28 Jul 2010 19:34:00 -0600

No, this is not about our favorite TV Show LOST, although it could be. This is a story of personal weirdness.

It was a beautiful day: warm, blue skies unmarred by even a single cloud, and a slight breeze to make it just the right temperature. The day surpassed perfection when we got onto the water at Fish Creek in my fishing spot.

The weirdness started after Cheryl got her line caught in a tree. She tried to get it out but ended up breaking off the fly, the tippet and some of the leader. I was busy going after a trout I saw rising, so I offered to re-rig her rod "in just a minute." Cast, cast, cast; "just one more cast." When Cheryl told me to watch out and not hook her on my backcast, I suddenly noticed that my line was missing both flies. What happened? One minute everything was good, and the next I was bereft of two flies without get hooked on anything. How could they have come off and where did they go? Weird. Totally weird. Plus I realized I didn’t have my box with my "hot" fly so I was going to have to try a different fly. Bummer.

I got Cheryl re-rigged and then re-rigged my own line. We fished for a while until the fish stopped rising (once it stops, it stops for good until the next hatch comes out in the evening). It was also near the time I had planned for us to head back to town so that we could make dinner for the kids. So after a few more casts it was time to wrap it up after a few more casts.

But something wasn't right; it looked like my line was tangled up. Definitely time to wrap things up. I reeled in, and was very confused. What was going on? Is that another fly on my line. No, wait. There are four flies here. How could that be? In fact, one of the flies looked like my "hot" fly. Wait a minute, the second (or fourth) fly was the other fly I had tied with my "hot" fly. This was the line and flies that I had lost earlier!

Somehow I managed to catch the flies and line on my last cast. I was so glad to get my flies back, and so confused as to how that could happen. I didn't know it then, but the weirdness was just beginning.

Cheryl and I walked downstream together and I showed Cheryl where I had fished and caught a few cutthroat the weekend before. As we were walking back upstream, I thought about the forceps and flotant holder I lost during a stumble. Later at home when I discovered what I had done I was really disappointed, since I had just bought the forceps and reloaded the flotant holder with a new bottle.

I gave this some thought when we were driving to the river, and it crossed my mind again when we were in the general area where I had stumbled. And then just as I was thinking it I looked down and what do you know, there they were sitting in the water right at my feet. How in the world could that happen? All the water, all the rocks, a week later, and I walk right on top of where they fell off and just happen to look down at the exact spot where they are sitting. The odds that I could have looked for them and found them were immeasurable, let alone happening across them totally by accident. It could only be Grace.

So on the same day within a half hour or so I unbelievably found two lost flies and a lost forceps and flotant. Weird and weirder. Thank you for Grace.

My First (and Second) Steelhead

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 12:19:58 -0600

My First Steelhead
The Mythical Steelhead
I couldn’t tell you exactly when I first started thinking about the possibility of personally catching a Steelhead on a fly rod, but from the time I first opened a fly-fishing magazine or read a book on the sport it was clear that “Steelheading” was something unique and special, enjoyed by a relatively small number of avid fishermen and women. Maybe it was the pictures of beautiful, giant sea-going rainbow trout. Or maybe it was the mythos of their grandeur and their elusiveness and the travails one has to go through to seize the prize. Most likely it had something to do with the fact that Steelhead are native to the Pacific Northwest, particularly several rivers just north of Seattle and several in Eastern Washington. No matter. Over the course of time as my interest in the fly-fishing developed along with my experiences and skills, the thought of having a Steelhead on a tight line and then in hand was transformed from a random thought to something that I should or even needed to do.
Journey to a Steelhead
A major step along my path to a Steelhead came when I left Sprint and several friends/members of my team gave me an 8-wt rod as a going away gift. Perfect for landing a Steelhead. This was the first tangible evidence of the idea starting to move towards becoming a reality.
A year later I was in Seattle scouting work opportunities, with a free weekend perfect for a trek to the Olympic Peninsula—another mecca for Steelhead—and a day of Steelheading. The weather was perfect (or at least typical for that time of year and the sport): overcast, snow in the higher elevations and lots and lots of rain. Aided by a local fly-fisherman as my guide, I spent the day casting for Steelhead; and casting and casting. I began to understand that the term “fish of ten-thousand casts” might actually have some truth to it. By the end of the day I had absolutely nothing to show for my efforts: not a sighting of a Steelhead or a hit. My only consolation was that I had started to count down from the ten-thousand casts I was now convinced would be needed. Plus I had had tremendous fun doing something unique and special, so I wasn’t really complaining.
After we moved to Seattle, I started to educate myself by talking to some of the guys at the local Orvis store. I went out to the Snoqualmie River twice on my own, but again without any indication of success or even progress.
My efforts to catch trout in Western Washington were slightly more successful, but not by much. Only occasional catches of small trout. Near the end of a consulting engagement in Anchorage, I stayed over one weekend to fish for silver salmon and rainbow trout. I caught two salmon on spinning gear (the outfitter hadn’t realized I wanted to fish with flies) and several good-sized rainbows on my fly rod, so at least I could claim that my fly rod was no longer a virgin. Then it was back to trout, especially after our move to Montana in May.
The Time is Now
The idea of planning a trip for Steelhead came suddenly and out of the blue. In late September Travis and I drifted the Bitterroot with a guide on a fund raising event for the shelter where Travis works. Our guide told us how he was moving to Washington so that he could guide on the Klickitat River for Steelhead. He told us that one time he had two guys out who caught 15 Steelhead between them. So much for the fish of ten-thousand casts. We talked about how this year was proving to be a record return for Steelhead. Suddenly I was interested in going after a Steelhead again; very, very interested. If there was ever a time actually to land a Steelhead, it sounded like this was the year. I started to contact friends and began making plans for a weekend trip to the Klickitat. A good friend from our early married years in Spokane, Tom Holcomb, who is an avid hunter and fisherman, said he was in, so the two of us started to make plans for our trip to the Klick.
As we neared our day of departure, Tom H. got concerned that rain in the area could blow out the river. After a few discussions with the fly shop, we changed our plans to fish the Methow River in northern Washington State, just below the Canadian border. It ended up being a good call by Tom, because we later learned that the Klick did in fact blow out, and we had perfect water on the Methow.
On Friday I drove over from Missoula and picked up Tom in Spokane. At 3pm we left Spokane and took old Highway 2 across the state to Pateros. This is road I haven’t been on in 20 years or more, which goes right by Grand Coulee Dam and through miles and miles of pure wheat country. It made for a nice trip and perfect preparation for spending a day on a remote river.
The Possibility Becomes Reality
After a late dinner in one of two local bar and grills, we called it a night. We both woke up well before our alarm clock, so we got up and ran down the road to a nearby town for a McDonald’s breakfast. After a quick stop to pick up a parking pass I thought I needed (I didn’t, but only found that out later), we went to our meeting spot and waited for the guide. We made introductions (Ryan, I’m Tom and this is Tom) and headed up the road to our first stop. It took us a little while to get geared up, and before we could head to the river we had a little incident: several local dogs came to greet us and a cute Brittany pup managed to et tangled up in my line and took off, taking my line and pole with him for a while. After a quick re-rig we were finally ready to hit the river.
Tom and I spent the next two hours casting, and casting and casting. Then, all of a sudden, at the end of a drift just as the fly started to swing, my indicator went down and a second after that I saw a fish boil the water: I had one on! From there it was a blur. I tightened the line to set the hook and got the loose line, what little there was since the line was almost full out on the drift, onto the reel. I reeled in, the fish ran, the fish jumped, I reeled in some more, the fish ran, the fish jumped, I reeled in some more, the fish jumped, the fish ran: you get the picture. It seemed to go on forever and I wasn’t sure if the fish was going to tire before I did. Plus the longer the fight went the more likely it was that I was going to lose the fish. But eventually the fish stopped running and I was able to back up onto shore, finally beaching it. I had landed my first Steelhead.
The rest of the morning was uneventful. Tom seemed to get a few hits, but it was mostly a lot of casting and moving without much happening. We tried several more places over the course of the day. I had one big tug but discovered that the fish had simply stripped of part of the fly without hitting the hook.
Our last spot of the day was the jackpot. After 15 minutes in this spot I got a strike and the fish went absolutely crazy on me. He took a big run and then came out of the water: it was a really big fish. Oh boy. Without any time to think, it came out of the water four more times: bang . . bang . bang . . Bang. The fish thrashed like you wouldn't believe. It had to be a wild Steelhead. So of course after the last thrash my line went twing! as the fish came unhooked. But what a ride it was. Even the guide spent the next ten minutes laughing and recounting the fight.
I got back in the water and it seemed like in less than 10 minutes I had another one on the line, my third of the day. This one didn't do much while I fumbled to get it on the reel but once I applied some pressure he took off. A couple of jumps and a run and he, too, was off the hook. Still, three on and one landed was very cool. The day wasn't over, however.
I got back in and threw to the same seam, and sure enough, within a few minutes I had a fourth one on. This was also a long, long fight, but this time I was able to get it landed. More than I ever expected or had hoped.

My friend, Tom, went into my slot after I caught the last one and he, too, got a hit and then shortly after that got one on his line. After some jumping and running it came unhooked, but he was totally excited simply to be able to hook one and play it for as long as he did. Pretty neat.
So the official count ended at four hooked and two in hand. We didn’t have a way to weigh them, but the guide thought they were between 8 and 10 pounds. The first fish measured 27 inches and the second around 24 inches, although it was much more filled out. Not monsters, but nice fish to catch on an 8 wt fly rod.
Epilogue
On this river it is mandatory to keep any hatchery fish caught, so in addition to pictures I have the two fish I caught. These are the first fish I can recall keeping in a long, long time. After I got home on Sunday I filleted the two fish and we put one on the grill. Wow. It was wonderful. More flavorful than a trout but still light and buttery in texture. And you could absolutely taste the freshness. Nothing really compares to it. Paired with garlic mashed potatoes, asparagus and a bottle of Shafer 2002 Relentless, it was a meal fit for a king.
After such a great day of fishing, I was wondering why I had waited until I was 8 hours away in Montana to fish the Methow, which is only about 3-4 hours from Seattle. The short answer is that hearing first-hand about this year's run and the success that others have had made all the difference. Man, I am glad I went no matter how long the drive was. And the drive itself turned out to be great. It gave Tom and me a chance to catch up on 20 years living in different parts of the world and we were able to travel roads that I have either never been on or haven’t traveled on in years. Our return trip was especially amazing. It was a beautiful evening and we saw some landscapes that were truly spectacular. All in all, it was a fantastic trip.
My Rig
The set up for the day was fairly simple. The guide built a leader (I’m not sure what the line size was for the last piece) about 7 feet long. The first fly was a big blue stone-fly. I think its primary purpose was to serve as a weight, and it served only secondarily as an alternative choice for the fish. A second fly was attached to the stone fly using an 8 inch tippet. This was changed out over the course of the day. At times weight was added. I caught my first fish on a fly that looked like a wad of eggs with sparkles. I know I had had a bite on it when we later discovered that the fly was torn up. Late in the day I went to a single egg attached an inch or two above a bare hook. That was the fly that hooked the last three fish I had on, including the last one I landed.

The Trip Home
We headed home around 5:30pm. It was a beautiful evening with clearing skies. Here’s a few pictures I stopped to take.

Where We Fished

TUESDAY, AUGUST 25, 2009
Record Steelhead Returns over Bonneville
Osprey Steelhead News
As of yesterday Summer Steelhead Counts over Bonneville dam were over 430,000 fish, already the third highest return in 70 years and on pace to potentially break the 2001 record of about 630,000 fish. While the vast majority of returning steelhead are of hatchery origin, over 130,000 unmarked fish have passed Bonnville making it one of the best years for wild returns in recent history.
High returns are essential drivers of recovery, future productivity and diversity. Favorable ocean conditions the last two years are largely responsible for the record-breaking return. High returns are always promising however it is important to put them in perspective. The current wild run is a fraction of the historic return and the conditions that are driving the high survival cannot possibly last. The only way to ensure more stable returns and long lasting recovery is to address the fundamental problems in the Columbia system, the dams and the huge level of hatchery production. The next few weeks are some of the most important in history for determining the future of the Snake River dams. If you haven't already, contact your Senators and Congressmen and tell them the Northwest wants the Snake Dams gone.

The Methow River
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Methow River (pronounced /ˈmɛtˌhaʊ/, "MET-how"[6]) is a tributary of the Columbia River. in northern Washington in the United States. The river's watershed is 1,890 square miles, with a population of about 5,000 people. The Methow's watershed is characterized by relatively pristine habitats, with much of the river basin is located in national forests and wildernesses. Many tributaries drain the large Pasayten Wilderness. An earlier economy based on agriculture is giving way to one based on recreation and tourism.
The river was named after the Methow Indian Tribe (today part of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Indian Reservation). The Indian name for the river was Buttlemuleemauch, meaning "salmon falls river".[7] In 1841 the Wilkes Expedition named the river "Barrier River". Alexander Ross said the native name was Buttle-mule-emauch. In 1811 David Thompson met the tribe living along the river and wrote their name as Smeetheowe. In 1853 George Gibbs called the the river Methow or Barrier.[8]

From the Worley Bugger website

"Out of the water he rose like a rocket.....out and out, and still there was more to him, no end to him. More bird than fish he seemed as he hovered above the water, his spots and spangles patterned like plumage. I half expected to see his sides unfold and spread in flight, as though , like the insect he fed upon, he had undergone metamorphosis and hatched. His gleaming wetness gave an iridescent glaze to him, and as he rose into the sunshine his multitudinous markings sparkled as though he were studded with jewels." William Humphrey

The Methow Valley located in North Central Washington is and continues to be one of the best kept secrets in the entire Pacific Northwest. With a mirad of outdoor activities to choose from, the Methow Valley has served as a sportsmen's paradise for Washingtonians for decades now. Just one of the many activities practiced in the Methow Valley is fly fishing for Summer Run Steelhead on the pristine, Methow River.
With classic run after classic run, the Methow River is truly a Steelheading paradise. This magnificent river affords fly fishermen of every skill level the distinct opportunity to swinging flies, fish heavily weighted wet flies and nymphs or skate and wake dry flies for the most sought after game fish in the world, the Pacific Northwest Steelhead.
The Methow River originates high in the North Cascades Mountain Range and meanders through six major vegetation zones with precipitation ranging from 100 inches to 10 inches a year. The Methow dashes, darts and cuts its way over large river rock boulders as mountain snows thaw during the warming months of spring.
Eventually, the Methow converges with the mother of all steelhead rivers , the Columbia River at the small town of Pateros. Salmon and steelhead returning to the Methow system must navigate over 500 miles upriver from the salty waters of the Pacific Ocean, while breaching 9 mainstream Columbia River dam passages.
In their life time, these magnificent pacific ocean going fish breach these man made obstacles twice. Once on their way to the ocean, and again on their return to the Methow River. Here salmon and some steelhead will perform their last living passage, the spawning ritual. Many steelhead will survive after the spring spawn and once again journey down river to the open waters of the Pacific. They will return once again to the Methow River system with added girth and size to spawn once again in the fresh waters of the river.
Surrounded by farm land, timber and bushy, green meadows, the Methow River is truly a fly fishing paradise, running clean and clear for much of the season. Remaining relatively wild, it is not uncommon to see numerous mule deer feeding along the river or road, eagles and osprey picking at a decaying salmon carcass or the occasional wild turkey sighting. Experience this wild life adventure while you cast flies for some of Washington States finest steelhead east of the Cascades Mountain Range.
The Methow River steelhead are a summer run species that enter the Columbia river between the months of June and July. Typically they make their way up river in force during the first couple weeks of September. This however, is dependant solely on the amount of water in both the Columbia and Methow River systems. With high water flow, fish tend to arrive early to the system. During periods of low water and a warm Columbia River watershed, steelhead movements will slow until water conditions improve. Once flows increase and water temperatures recede, steelhead resume their up stream travels.
Upon their arrival to the Methow, these strong, resilient Steelhead navigate roughly 35 miles of water way to the Winthrop National Fish Hatchery in Winthrop. It is during this movement, between the mouth of the Columbia and the hatchery that we are able to target these majestic fish in one of many quintessential runs that dot the Methow River system.
Low returning Steelhead numbers in the mid nineties, prompted an indefinite closure of all sport fishing for salmon and steelhead in the Methow River as well as many other Upper Columbia River tributaries. Since that time, the returning numbers of Steelhead has steadily risen in the Upper Columbia River, due in part to an intensive hatchery rearing program spearheaded by several local, state and private fisheries agencies.
In September of 2002, a “special emergency” opening for catch and release fishing was prompted on the Methow River. To say fishing was good is the understatement of the decade with anglers catching almost unheard of numbers of steelhead on a daily basis. Since then, the steelhead numbers have continued to grow, prompting special openings each year in October for steelhead on the Methow system.
Each year we eagerly anticipate the opening of the Methow River, generally during the first few days of October.

Fish of Ten-Thousand Casts
Steelhead are called "the fish of ten-thousand casts," with good reason.
First of all, in terms of relative numbers, Steelhead are scant. Even with this year's record number of returning fish, you wouldn't expect there to be more than a couple of fish at any given prime spot on the river.
Second, you probably won't see a fish unless it's on your line. They hold in safe spots, like deep water, and they aren't regularly rising for food or fun. This is one of the main reasons why it really helps to have a guide. An experienced guide who spends a lot of time on one river knows exactly where the fish are likely to hold and the paths they take as they make their way upriver.
Third, Steelhead are usually on the move. Although they do get tired and will hold for brief periods of time at specific spots such as pools or areas of relative calm below a run or rapids, they are almost always on the move. Our guide told us that he saw a report that one Steelhead was tracked traveling upriver more than 26 miles in a single day. Wow. You can't do that and at the same time hang around at any particular spot for very long.
Fourth, the combination of the first three items means that even if you know where the fish are likley to hold, the fish's small numbers and their near-continuous movement means that you can be in a great spot, but not at a time when there is a fish there.
Fifth, a Steelhead simply aren't motivated to eat whenever and wherever they can. Unlike trout, who have to fill up on mayfly hatches, Steelhead eat well in the oceans and aren't looking to fill up along their way upriver. If something is right in front of them, instinct dictates that they grab it, but they wont' go very far out of their way to grab a quick bite. So if you want to hook a Steelhead, you have to present them something that's worth eating and put it right in front of them so that they don't have to work hard to get it.

Snow, Snow, Snow

Wed, 24 Dec 2008 09:59:28 -0700

Seattle is being absolutely pummeled with snow and sub-freezing temperatures. In all the years we lived in Western Washington, we can’t remember experiencing anything like the snow like we have had over the last week. In depth and length of snowfall it even rivals the snow we had in Kansas, and in some ways is worse since the people and cities in Seattle are simply not equipped to deal with it. And to top it off it’s just now officially “winter.” At least we will have a White Christmas; something we really didn’t expect when we moved back. And thankgoodness our driveway is only about 1/4th as big as our driveway in Kansas.

[click Seattle Photos above to see more pictures]

Join the Advent Conspiracy

Mon, 8 Dec 2008 09:22:50 -0700

Our church (http://www.occ.org/) is part of a movement trying to “take back” Christmas from its transformation into little more than a mega consumer orgy of consumption and gross self-gratification, whose sole purpose is to drive retail sales.

The premise is simple and comes in two parts: 1) Gift the Giver and 2) make Christmas relational not transactional.

Gift the Giver

If you believe in Christ, Christmas is supposed to be the celebration of His birthday. And how do we traditionally celebrate someone’s birthday? We give them a gift. So how do we give Christ a gift? The good news is that he told us how (Matthew 25: 35-40):

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to see me.”

“The the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’”

“The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’”

So instead of buying each other a bunch more “stuff” that we really don’t need, how about if we gift to those who are in true need. Take some (or all if you are ready to be really radical) of what you would have spent on “stuff” and instead gift it to someone in need.

The horrible reality is that worldwide, millions and millions are in desperate need. Our church has decided to focus its efforts on the African AIDS crisis by partnering with World Vision to deliver a unique AIDS experience at the church on Dec 12-15. Closer to home, food pantries are under enormous pressure as contributions have declined at the same time the number of people in need is exploding. Finding a recipient for your gift is not the challenge; it’s taking the time and actually doing it.

Make Christmas Relational

Christ promises to give us what we need and what is truly valuable, and what he gave to us personally was himself. Our opportunity is to do the same. This Christmas, instead of giving stuff, think about giving ourselves; something that is “of” us, not just from us. This can and will take many forms, forms as diverse as the individuals who embrace the concept.

It might be too late for you to join this year’s Advent Conspiracy, but it’s not too late to begin thinking about joining the conspiracy for next year. In fact, you can begin today. The longest journey begins with a single step. Maybe the process of transforming our consumption-mentality into a giving-mentality starts with a simple decision to defer or NOT buy something, and instead set that money aside as a gift for someone in need. So this Christmas, maybe we can all start thinking about

• Retelling not retailing
• Presence not presents

Trifecta +1

Sun, 31 Aug 2008 12:25:08 -0600

I successfully competed a fishing trifecta, fly fishing in three of the best states in the country/world over the course of three consecutive weekends, and catching trout and salmon in all three. You could even argue it was four states, adding Washington, except I fished it without catching a trout. so let’s call it Trifecta +1.

I was able to accomplish this because of multiple converging factors. First, Cheryl spent a couple of weeks in Spokane with family and to be close to Travis and Minnie should Milo decide to make an early arrival. This left me unsupervised and able to plan my little adventure. Second, we had made it a tradition to fish the Frying Pan in Colorado with Bernie and Cindy Amyot in early August, and they were kind enough to allow me to join them on their trip this year even though Cheryl had other plans. Third, I was able to stay over a weekend in Alaska where I had been working at a time that was perfect for catching rainbows as they trailed the spawning salmon. Fourth, I was in Montana for Milo’s birth, with a little free time to go off and wet my line. So the plan was made and the stage was set.

It got off to a great start with probably my best ever trip to the Frying Pan. A big winter snow pack and mild days had delayed the spring runoff, so when we got there the water was freshly clear and the hatches were just beginning to get into full swing. The fish were extremely eager (read that as hungry) for our flies. For the first time in all the years we fished the Pan, we got onto the river in the evening for a Rusty Spinner hatch. It was fabulous! The fish were as aggressive as they usually are during the afternoon PMD and Green Drake hatches, which this year were actually somewhat slow. It was also wonderful fishing in the cool of the evening as the sun set. The action was fast and we caught fish as fast as we could get them off the fly and back onto a drift. Cindy managed to catch the biggest fish any of us has caught on The Pan, a beautiful 22 inch Cut-Bow (cutthroat-rainbow hybrid). I caught my first fish nymphing without an indicator, and actually had a fish on that was so big I thought I was caught on a rock or stick (more on that elsewhere).

Alaska was a true experience. I was on a float with a local guide and his friend. The day started with a moose sighting, which excited my guides because a special moose season using a bow was starting the next day, and this one was a potential target (he turned out to be both too small and too big, which saved his life for this hunt). I caught lots of rainbows, up to about 20 inches. And yes, I had a least four on that I didn’t land which were “a whole lot bigger.”

The silver salmon fishing was a bit of a disappointment. The guide didn’t know that I wanted to fly-fish, so he had nothing on hand to rig me up. We tried different things over the course of the morning, and I managed to get four on without landing a one. I eventually switched to his spinning rig and caught my limit of two sliver salmons (see above). both were good sized, but it didn’t feel particularly sporting using a glob of salmon eggs, a bobber and line tough enough to catch a shark (not really, but you get the idea).

Montana was also a little disappointing. I tried a number of places on Rock Creek but didn’t see any fish in the water or rising when I was out in the morning. When I went out in the evening I saw a few fish rising and managed to catch three smaller trout. The one bit of excitement was a huge splash I heard and then saw as a big trout came out of the water trying to grab my fly as it neared the water on my backcast. Try as I might, however, I was never able to get it to show itself or get interested in chasing my offering. But it must have been a really big fish.

So that was the Trifecta. Catching trout (and salmon) in Colorado, Alaska and Montana on consecutive weekends. Plus getting skunked again in Washington. What fun. It helped make up at least a little for spending most of every week away from Seattle in Anchorage.