Last Tussle on Kettle Creek

The Last Tussle on Kettle Creek

5/23/2021

  

 Jeff and I had a pretty good week on Kettle Creek from when he arrived on Tuesday the 18^th till when we left on Sunday. I caught most of my trout on dry flies while Jeff caught most of his underneath. He caught the biggest one on Friday. Not that we compete against each other but he did land the biggest.

  

 Yes, I had two big ones on and lost both before the net. One spit a Woolly Bugger out and the other let go of an emerger if I remember right.

Sunday we woke up early and had breakfast and coffee. I wasn’t really excited about going out the morning and was planning on just starting to clean up camp first and then go out around noon if I felt like it. Jeff said he was going out in the morning and will be back around noon to help out. I changed my mind and went along with him.

  We stopped in the Kettle Creek project area. There was one other truck there when we parked. The sun was still rising behind the tree tops and it was already getting warm out. Jeff fished not to far downstream while I ventured down creek tossing Woolly Buggers for something to do. I was headed for a bend far down crick I have caught trout before. When I got to the first bend it was still partly shaded. March Browns were flying everywhere like lightening bugs lost in a dark forest. I watched for any risers and was surprised I didn’t see any trout rise. I switched over to a March Brown dry pattern and continued on down crick. 

 The whole way downstream I casted out the March Brown hoping to raise a trout. There were some improvement breaks along the banks that were put there by a club. I got good perfect casts along the breaks and was sure at least one trout would rise but no trout was evidently hungry enough.

 When I finally got to the bend there was a guy on the bank knotting something on. It was obvious he was going to fish the riffling water before it entered into a large slower pool of water. I went around him and took the time to look around for any risers before casting out. The water was clear but the pool was deep enough I couldn’t make out the bottom. The deepest part had a greenish blue tint to it. I have caught a few trout at the end of the pool before it shallows out and enters a narrower, rougher water that ran along the far bank. I started my first few casts in the tail out without a rise. I continued to cast out the dry March Brown trying to cover different spots hoping to get a trout to at least take a look at the thing. I made a couple of casts onto the riffling water entering the big pool and watched the dry roll with the subtle waves down into the pool. After one cast I glanced down into the tail out and then turned my head to see where my dry fly was. There was a splash on the water midstream out in front of me and I wristed the rod up a bit hoping the splash was an indication that something took my dry. Well, the rod curved in a semicircle and in turn the line tightened. The initial pull on the other end caught me by surprise and being I didn’t have a good wrist hold, straightened the rod almost level with the water. I immediately locked my wrist with the rod raised while the trout took line out of the reel like a runaway kite taking line from an unattended ball of string. It couldn’t get very far across creek but when it did get near the bank it turned towards the tail out some and took deeper. I had time to tighten the reel drag knob a couple of clips to keep some tension on the line when I needed to hold the grip with both hands. He tussled and pushed his weight around in the deepest part of the pool. I then noticed that laying on the bottom of the pool was at least one lengthy limb with a couple of short offshoot branches attached. I know these were trouble. As he fought and tugged on the line from below I was concerned about the hazardous limb I could barely make out. I didn’t know its length but I knew it could be trouble if the trout got into it. I kept the rod raised trying to get the trout up higher in the water column away from the limb. I could feel the downward force, within my tight grip, of the arcing front portion of the 9’ rod the trout was putting on it. When he swam out further I wasn’t too worried but when I felt him getting closer to the limb had me worried.

  I was on the bank and I knew I needed to get into the water to net him. There was a bunch of washed up sticks and branches laying along the bank in front of me. While holding onto the rod with one hand, while my other was feeling the stress the trout was putting on the line, I walked downstream on the bank and waded in just above my shins. I actually didn’t try to wade any further out as the water depth dropped off quickly.

  The line was angled out towards the far bank and up near the incoming waves. I needed to get him to the back of the pool where I was near. The problem was he would have to pass by the limbs at the bottom. I couldn’t see how far up they reached from the bottom but I knew I had to have him avoid it at all costs. I put a little more pressure, by backing the rod towards the tail out, on him to get him to turn downstream. He gave a forward head shake and turned and swam quickly into the deepest part of the pool somewhere, I figured, near the limb. I raised the rod up as high as I could trying to keep him away from the limb and continued to move the rod towards the tail out. It felt like he cautiously started to swim towards the arcing rod pressure but was tugging trying to get deeper. The rod bounced a couple of times with his actions but I didn’t let line out to let him get deeper. When I saw the trout clear the submerged limb I was more relieved. I brought in line as he swam into the back of the pool in about 12” to 18” of water. From there I cautiously brought in line making him swim towards me. Once he was close enough to net he turned downstream to try and get away. The force of the rod bending held him back from going too far but he sure was putting a lot of pressure on my locked wrist trying to hold the rod high. He kind of swam in circles splashing the surface before I got him in the net. I took a deep sigh of relief as I turned and took him towards the bank. My big March Brown dry was secured tightly in the side of his jaw. 

  

 After lighting up a rewarding stogie I looked at my watch and it was about 8:40am. Jeff wanted to leave the stream by quarter after nine to get back to the campsite and help me pack up the camper. He was planning on leaving near 10:00.

  I took a few more casts in the big pool then slowly worked my way upstream towards where he was fishing. When I got to the bend, where I saw all the March Browns earlier, they had disappeared. I continued to fish my way up to Jeff. He said he had caught 3 on dry fly patterns and one beneath if I’m remembering correctly. He did say he missed a couple strikes.

  I only had one take my offering that whole morning. The last day of being on Kettle Creek. A morning I wasn’t really planning on fishing. It happen to be the biggest trout I had netted all week. I just happen to be in the right place at the right time with the right offering. I’ve said before I’m one that does not believe in luck but…….

~doubletaper

 

The Morning After

 

The Morning After

5/26/2021

  The guys in the campsite next to me were fixing breakfast as I was sorting out my vest. While they were eating breakfast I was catching trout.

 After dropping my camper off in Milroy, on Tuesday, for repairs it gave me a good excuse to fish Penns Creek only about 40 minutes away. By the time I got camp set up it was about 1:30. I called it a practice run being I never fished this section of water before. I did pick off a few trout on dries and spent most of the afternoon getting familiar with the place and hatches.

 

 

I did catch one nice bigger brown on a dry fly pattern.

 In the evening Drakes, March Browns and other Mayflies filled the air. I wasn’t sure what they were taking on the surface but it wasn’t what I had to offer.

Wednesday morning I woke up at my usual time about 5:30am. I ate breakfast, reorganized my vest and made sure I had a few stogies while the guys next site over were making breakfast. There was a good hatch of March Brown spinners the night before. Thrown in were some small Sulphurs, big Green Drakes and who knows what else? I had watched the big drakes flutter while drifting downstream time and again last evening but not a trout rose to them. I figured, last evening, trout may have been taking spinners or emergers. I decided to add some of these patterns to my collection this morning.

When I got to the crick I wasn’t sure what to expect but there wasn’t a human being in sight as far as my eyes could see. Maybe the fishermen and women were eating breakfast like the guys next site over?

There were March Browns coming off the water and a few small Sulphurs. There were these two blackbirds fussing in the trees across the crick. Every time they shook a branch hard enough a bunch of drakes and March Browns filled the air like a bunch of Maple tree whirligigs on a windy day. Some would touch the water and flutter downstream. None I seen were eaten by trout.

I started off with a brown spinner without any takers in the slower water. I switched to a poly wing emerger and got the same results. I resorted to my beat up March Brown parachutes that I had left over from Kettle Creek the week before. They looked pretty shabby.

I paid attention to a few risers while I knotted on the March Brown. Evidently the trout didn’t mind the shabby looking dries. I nabbed four trout right off within 30 minutes of where I had seen them rising. 

 

 I looked at my watch and it was only 8:30am and I already put four in the net. I don’t usually smoke a cigar this early but waking up so early and catching trout already I was ready for a reward. I took out a short robusto and lit it up.

 

 Across crick there was a small wavy run just out from the stony shallows. It looked deep so I gave it a try. It took a few casts but one cast put my dry just shy of the submerged rocks that caused the waves. I watched my dry roll with the waves heading downstream ahead of the tippet and tapered leader. A trout rose and sucked it in. I yanked the long length of line up and back and the line tightened causing the top rod section to bow in a good arc. In the distance I saw a lengthy brown trout come up just below the surface before it took my line downstream into faster current. I purposely made a quick wrist set to make sure I had a good tight hold on him. He didn’t come loose so I didn’t hurry him in. He fought in the current and I let him play himself out exhausting some of his energy before I took more control. I moved the rod at an angle upstream and he slowly followed with a few head shakes. Once upstream from me, with the rod raised high, he backed up towards the net splashing water in all directions. It took a couple of tries but I did net him cleanly. A nice lengthy butter belly brown.

 

  After that release I dried off the excess water from my March Brown with my handkerchief. Then, like always, I put it in the Top Ride bottle and shook it dry even further.

  I concentrated on risers when I saw one or just casted out blindly trying to make one rise. I saw a couple of dimples across crick in the stony shallows beyond where I caught the lengthy brown. I figured it to be a smaller trout feeding on some small bugs. It wasn’t going to be easy getting to him though. Heck I had to give it a try. I had to sidearm cast to get it under an overhanging leafy branch. There was plenty of room beneath it but sometimes the line, especially with a dry fly, doesn’t always make it under safely. The other thing was that I wanted to get my dry as close to the beginning of the riffling water and not right on its head. I made a decent cast and watched the white calf tail parachute post bounce upon the riffles. I saw a quick flash towards it and in an instant my March Brown disappeared. In that instant I reared back the long length of line. I knew I had him hooked but what I didn’t expect was the weight I felt in my grip around the cork handle as the rod bent towards the far bank. I was able to see the dark brown trout turn downstream, followed by a wake, out of the shallows. He took tensioned line through my fingers and spun line off the spinning spool like thread through a sewing machine needle making a straight hem. I held the rod up trying to keep the fly line from dragging in the water. He fought downstream in quick to and fro motions. I held on tight and let him have line when he forced it and took in line when he gave me a chance to. So far this morning I got every trout I hooked to the net and I didn’t want this one to be the exception.

  We had a good tug of war going on. I wasn’t giving up, so either the line was going to break or he was eventually going to get into my net. I was using 4x tippet and it’s been holding up fine so I had good thoughts it wasn’t going to snap. If my knots were poor they should of come loose by now. I stood in knee deep water with the rod bowed in a big arc pointing downstream to the hooked brown. Every time he gave a head jolt the bowing rod would flex and rebound back into the forgiving arc. For a while neither of us looked to gain an edge.

  I had him coming upstream across from me and coming closer. I had the net out and I was raising the rod up ever so gently as he tugged. When he got closer he took off like a beagle after a flushed rabbit. The line flung out from between my finger and the cork grip. The rod arced and tensioned line peeled off the spool some. He didn’t get very far with the rod bent in a good bend. I’m sure that put a lot of force on him exhausting more of his energy. The second time I got him close enough to the net he made it a little easier. Another nice wild butter belly brown trout sparkled in my net. His red spots sparkled like small rubies on a decorative sash. My second of the morning.

 

  That one was like putting whip cream on my blueberry pie! (I’m not a big cake and icing eater.) Even if I didn’t catch another trout I was going home a winner.

  I did catch a few more trout on my dry flies before calling it quits before noon. 

  

 The sun was out brightly and it was getting hotter. I wanted to call the shop to see if they had a chance to look at my camper and I wasn’t sure how far I would have to drive to get phone service.

So, that evening it rained and thunder stormed before darkness. As I sat under a shelter writing this story a few mayflies teased me.

 

 Thursday morning I was up bright and early. I decided to wonder upstream to new waters. The sun was out but not quite over the mountainous tree line. Upstream Green Drakes filled the air like a swarm of butterflies. They were fluttering above the water in all directions as if they weren’t sure where they wanted to go in the first place once they took off. I looked beneath the stream side trees and found Coffin Flies laying in wait.

 

For an hour or so I showed them just about every Green Drake dun, spinner and coffin fly I was carrying and only got one to rise which I missed. On the way back downstream one guy, out in the middle of the crick, told me he’s been catching them on emergers and only caught one on the dun.

  I went back to the faster current where I caught the trout the day before. There was one trout that would rise on occasion in or near a wavy run out in the middle. I showed him quite a few offerings like a salesman showing a women bathroom tile in different sizes and shades. I missed him once but didn’t feel him actually take my offering. It took some time and I was about to call it a day and pack up. I gave my beat up March Brown a couple more casts and finally hooked him. I wasn’t expecting how big he was but we had a good hard battle and I got him netted.

I couldn’t wait to get my camper back. This tenting stuff is for the younger people! lol!

~doubletaper

 

Behind the Scene

 

Behind the Scene

5/08/2021

 So, I’m walking back to camp from fishing skinny water a mile or so upstream from the Smokemont Campground in Cherokee NC. I caught and missed a few wild trout on Sulphur patterns. I stopped to watch a guy high sticking nymph fishing, or whatever fancy name they call it these days, a narrow wavy run along the bank. What he wasn’t aware of is about 20 yards downstream from him trout were rising. Sulphurs were popping up through the surface sporadically like popcorn kernels in hot oil. Every so often a small Sulphur would appear and rise off the water as if they were in a hurry not to be eaten. I knotted on a small parachute Sulphur and stepped into the shin deep water off the bank.

  I started casting and keyed my casts towards each rising trout. My casts were delicate with the 4 weight double taper fly line with 6x tippet. There was nothing to hamper my casts so I was able to let my Sulphur fall from the sky like the real thing. The fly line touched down with little splash about 8 ½ feet from my offering. I watched the small waves carry my Sulphur dun towards a recent riser. He came up quick like a native brookie in a skinny brook run. I wristed the rod upward and the small wild rainbow scurried about on a tight line. 

  

I didn’t hook them all nor get them all to hand but for about an hour I had fun trying.

 

~doubletaper

 

 

Within the Great Smoky Mountains

 

Within the Great Smoky Mountains, NC

5/08/2021

I could feel the rush of cold water against my knees as I stand in the middle of the Ocanaluftee River in which I would consider a crick back home in Pennsylvania. The water is deeper on each side of me, as I look downstream, and flows fast in deeper runs. The sun beats down its warm rays though the water feels much colder running through the mountain valley of laurel and forest trees. The waves sparkle like new dimes. In the distance I can hear the roars of motorcycles taken the bends in the winding mountain road far off. The road noise soon disappears like the smoke of my cigar with an easy breeze that follows the current. With the silence of the road noise the birds are more pronounced in their chirps as is the gurgling of water against the exposed rocks and boulders. I can smell a distance campfire that’s carried by the wind.

  I cast out the Woolly Bugger, like I have been, while wading the river. I cast out to my right and let the bugger swing into the deeper wavy run while watching my fly line and feeling for any such twitch through my tightened grip on the cork handle. The bugger swings out of the faster current into flat calmer water and I feel a swift grab. I wrist the rod back and the 4 wight top section bows with a tightened line. A trout tugs wildly and I know this trout isn’t like the past caught smaller wild rainbows. I can tell by the heftier weight and fight. The trout scurries downstream across below me and continues to distance himself from me as I let tensioned line slip through my fingers. He pulls and jolts the line and the rod flexes with each jerk. I get him swimming upstream beneath the faster current. He turns straight down from me, tugs time and again and returns under the wavy current. I keep the rod low to the water not wanting him to surface just yet. He darts upstream into a back eddy behind a big, nearly exposed, boulder. He holds steady behind the boulder. I’m not sure if he got loose and I got a snag. My line catches the boulder and there’s no motion in the undercurrent. A slight tug lets me know he’s still attached so I move downstream while keeping the rod up to get him to swim out from behind the boulder. It works and he swims down below me. I take in line and bring him closer to me as he fights not wanting to come my way. Just below the surface I see his dark lengthy body. I force him up river as I take out my net. I reach high with the fly rod and he reluctantly swims closer. I net the wild butter belly brown trout.

  

 I release him into the current flow. He swats his tail, takes deep and disappears into the rush of water. I take a good puff of my cigar I hold between my lips and watch the clouds of smoke be carried off with the breeze. I check any damage done to my soaked bugger, all’s well. I continue to fish downstream and after each cast expecting another twitch.

  Time tics away. Trout being caught. The sun shines brightly. The distant road noise comes and goes. Birds sing and flutter in the air. The constant sounds of gushing water surround me. Trout are waiting.

~doubletaper 

 

 

A Dry Peaceful Evening

 

A  Dry Peaceful Evening

4/23/202

Size didn’t matter as long as I was catching trout on a dry fly!

 On the past Tuesday evening trout were rising to Hendricksons, Caddis and stoneflies which ever they preferred. My Hendricksons were in the truck so I figured to fool them with the stonefly dries I had with me. The trout were rising everywhere. It was fast and furious. After I caught a trout I couldn’t dry it or replace it fast enough to get it back out there to the feeding trout. I wasn’t sure how long the hatch would last but I was determined to catch as many as I could. In about 30 minutes it was over. The wind increased into a gale. It was hard to cast and the trout quit rising anyhow. It was fast and furious while it lasted.

 Wednesday I woke up to 30* weather and snow. Thursday I woke up to snow and 30* weather also. Thursday evening I went to the Pen’s hockey game with my son, grandson and cousin. Friday I gathered up supplies from home and headed back to camp. As soon as I got everything back in order I headed out to the same section of Tionesta Creek. I was on the water by 2:00.

  It was bright and warm when I arrived. The sun was up in the blue sky and the clouds were practically nil. The thin clouds that did streak the sky were so thin the sun easily penetrated them keeping it bright. The water was gin clear and the riffles sparkled under the sun like beach glass on a sandy beach. I figured no one fished the past 2 days because of the weather. Even if someone fished this morning I was hoping the trout would still rise to a hatch this evening. I was alone and if the trout were going to rise I had the whole place to myself. Even if there wasn’t a hatch I felt I could make them rise!!!

  It was near 2:30 when small caddis started to appear and 2 step on the water. They were tapping the surface as if teasing the trout to try and catch them. A few stoneflies were also fluttering across the surface now and then appearing to dry their wings before full flight. There was a slight breeze that would blow the stoneflies off course but nothing too strong to hamper my casting.

  I started casting stonefly dries even though only a couple of trout rose periodically. Nothing wanted my stonefly so I switched to a Hendrickson dry. The trout took Hendricksons two days ago so why wouldn’t they take them now?

 I have asked myself “do trout actually know when a hatch completely ends?” I’ve answered my own question many a times. Days after people think the hatch is over and trout won’t rise, well they will, trust me. I proved it to myself and others!

  Well, it didn’t take too many casts to get a trout to take my Hendrickson imitation. He slurped it up quickly like a goalie scooping up a sliding puck towards the net. I yanked back the line slack and the line tightened. I saw the trouts side shimmer from the sun rays just below the surface before he took deep. He tugged as he swam beneath trying to get loose. Without warning he rose out of the water and displayed its physical ability in mid air of acrobatic flexibility. He reentered the water with a splash, swam a piece and again exited the water in similar fashion.

  

 I made trout rise to my Hendrickson pattern even though not a live Hendrickson was seen. 

 

 When the trout quit attacking my Hendrickson I knotted on one of my dry stonefly patterns.

 That worked for sometime. I rarely moved from the position I was standing. I was making short to long casts downstream, upstream and across. It wasn’t like Tuesday, fast and furious, but if I saw a trout rise on occasion I was targeting my cast like a hockey player in a shoot out looking for an open 5 hole. 

 

 

 For 2 ½ hours, from 2:30 till 5, I was catching trout like Fleury catching slap shots from the blue line without any obstructions.

 The hooked trout looked graceful with their out-of-water experience of air born technique as they tried to dislodge the hook. Beneath the water they fought in erratic fashion like a poor sighted vole in a hen house being pecked by the chickens searching for a way out. Of course I didn’t score every time, not all shots on goal make it inside the net, but I was having fun trying to get a second and third chance at times. Even the stogie I was smoking seemed to smoke a little finer like nachos and beer taste better in the arena when your team is up by 4 goals! 

 It was a peaceful easy feeling without a soul around. When the gusts of wind picked up trying to cast wasn’t feasible or fun anymore. Besides that no trout were rising and no bugs filled the air. With the wind brought a cold chill that, at times, I wasn’t dressed for. I could have stayed and nymph fished but why ruin a perfect peaceful evening, with no stress, catching trout on the dry?

 

Make’m rise,

~doubletaper

 

 

Ohio Steelheading

 

Ohio Steelheading

3/30/2021

Let’s face it, big steelhead don’t use theatrics or super quick moves like fresh smaller steelhead do such as sky jumping. Big steelhead use their body weight, size and force to get the advantage. If you don’t have patience you may not land them.

  I got my $14.00 out-of-state fishing license on line and was ready to go after some Ohio steelhead. Donny had called me a few days earlier and told me that the steelhead have been stacked up. I picked up Kevin at Barkeyville and we headed North by North by North West to Conneaut Ohio to Donny’s house.

  I haven’t fished with Donny for a couple of years or so. We’ve fished many a trout streams and plenty Steelhead fishing in the past. Being how far we live from each other our paths just don’t cross out of the blue. He has chartered and guided Lake Erie and it’s tributaries for years so he knows his way around and quality fishing opportunities. When he called me up I knew we were going to have a lot of fun.

  After giving us a warm welcome at 6:00 am he started rolling smokes while Kevin was registering for an out-of-state license on line. After that we got our gear on and headed to the crick.

  It was a chilly morning. Almost glove weather but knowing it was to warm up I didn’t take my knitted mittens. We followed Donny through a short wooded section to the crick. There were already a couple of guys on the bank getting their rods ready to fish. We headed a piece downstream, crossed the crick and stopped on the bank looking out into a long run that started at fast riffling current over a rocky stone crick bed. From there the run widened and flowed deeper to another shallow section. Donny said the steelhead are right there in the run from the head of the pool to the tail out. It was too dark to see any fish just yet but I wasn’t doubting Donny’s words. There was a fellow on the other side at the head of the run so Kevin and I fished from the same side of the crick.

  Kevin hooked up first and played the steelhead successfully out of the run down crick where Donny could net it easier. When I finally hooked up the steelhead didn’t waste anytime showing off and snapping my leader. After the hook up I would say the first 7 seconds are crucial. It would be like trying to shake a bee off your cheek while holding a full glass of beer in one hand and a hoagie in the other. Well, maybe 5 times worse with a hook stuck in your mouth. The steelhead usually start out with ferocious head shakes that might last a few seconds or more. Then they’ll take off with reckless abandon in any direction they choose. Sometimes I think, after the head shaking, they don’t even know what direction they are going to go. Like stepping off a merry-go-round after being spun at high speed for a few minutes or so. When they do take off it’s in an instant. Your drag better not be too tight and you better be holding on to the rod as tight as you can.

  When my first hooked steelhead took off, after the head shaking, it sped downstream like a top horsepower dragster on a ¼ mile drag strip. It took flight, shook it’s head in the air and my leader came flying back without a sucker spawn attached. After the second hook up and practically the same missing offerings at the end of my bare tippet I replaced the 6 lb fluorocarbon with 8 lb. Donny told us originally the steelhead we would be fishing for would mostly be drop backs. Well, these fish were pretty fresh and wild and the fresher the steelhead the wilder and more energy they have. They would jump out of the water and fight ferociously like wild dogs trying to tear pieces of meat from a fresh kill, grabbing a hunk of meat and running away trying to keep it to himself. This went on for some time until the bite slowed down.

 

  Kevin and I broke for lunch while Donny went home to roll some more cigs and grab more beer. He told us where to go after lunch and he’ll meet us there.

  When Donny showed up he motioned to us to come down to where he was fishing. There were steelhead strung out everywhere like a gathering of people along a country road waiting for a firework display. From the shallow water to the deeper runs. They were a bit harder to hook up being the water was so clear. Seeing the steelhead in the riffles was like looking through wrinkled plastic wrap and I’m sure they noticed us also. Of course Donny didn’t have any trouble hooking one when he did decide to fish on occasion. He’s a guide so he knows how to coax them. He made it look easy at times.

  

 Every once in a while Kevin or I would hook up. The steelhead were big and bold and fought like the devil. It was good Donny had a net big enough to net the long steelhead for us.

 

  I was standing on a high bank drifting an egg pattern and sparkle spawn in a deeper run. I wasn’t using an indicator being I was well above the water. I was high sticking my offering following my fly line, with the rod tip, as my egg patterns drifted through. I saw my fly line dip down and I yanked upward for a hook set. The line tightened and the top rod section bowed like a freshly strung recurve. I felt the torque of the bending rod in my grip and grabbed the cork handle tightly with both hands as he took off. He was spitting line out the reel and I thought I hooked a friggen whale. The rod felt like a 9’ 3” limb trying to hold it at an angle. Every arm muscle was being used trying to control the fighting steelhead which seemed I had no initial control over. It was like trying to tame a wild mustang while standing in a small corral gripping a rope that’s lassoed around its neck. He bucked, jolted and tugged. He swam up and down creek and I had no way of slowing him down. What seemed like a half hour of fighting him probably only took a few minutes until he settled down some. There I was standing on the bank with the rod sections arced with a tight line aiming into the midsection of the wavy current with the rod butt in my gut holding the rod steady. It looked as if I had a snagged bottom. The steelhead was facing into the current and wasn’t moving. I had no control trying to move him. Even Donny jokingly asked me if I had a snag? I told him the steelhead was still on but I just couldn’t move him.

  I knew to keep side pressure on fish even when they are not moving. The force I had on him, from the side pressure, was forcing him to use his energy not to come my way. It took time and patience on my part not to be in a hurry or too aggressive. When I felt him moving my way I swung the rod downstream at an angle to get him to swim towards the calmer shallower water where he could be netted. It worked, with one last hard tug he turned and swam downstream. I wasn’t sure what Donny was waiting for but he had the net and there wasn’t much of a way I thought I could grab the steelhead and get it out of the water. I gave Donny a heads up. He grabbed the net and headed my way. Meanwhile ‘old tugboat’ was facing up crick jiggling the line like a trout hanging from a stringer jiggling the chain that’s hooked through its gill still attached to a fisherman’s belt. Mind you, the rod was still arced towards the steelhead and I was still keeping my wrists locked not easing the tension on him. When Donny stepped into the water the steelhead swam further away. I started to back up on the bank and upstream without taking in line. He drew closer to Donny but jolted and forced himself away. It took a couple of times and much effort but finally Donny got the best opportunity to net the big steelhead and successfully did just that.

 

Well, what’s a big catch like this worth without a picture of Donny and I?

That’s my experience with Ohio Steel. Well worth the $14.00 for an Ohio License for the day.

~doubletaper

 

Why they call them chrome!