Fly Fishing Journal 2014

North Umpqua Steelheading, Part I

Friday, 17 January -- I had spent the night before tying some flies and drinking some beers with a small group of local fishermen/fly-tyers.  The other guys were hammering out trout fly after trout fly.  Myself, knowing that I'd be heading to the North Umpqua the next day, spent the entire evening palmering Marabou feathers on a 3/0 Mustad hook shank.  I think seven feathers in all.  Pink in the back, and then layers of blues going from pale to dark, and a smattering of blue Flashabou strands along the way.  One fly finished when the evening was over.  I spoke up, jokingly, about probably losing this beauty just a few casts into my day on the river.

I got a late start getting out of Bend on Friday morning.  A few errands to run, including the purchase of a brand new 2014 Oregon Fishing License.  70 bucks later and a quick fill-up of the gas tank and I was on my way south and west.  The obligatory stop for McDonald's breakfast in LaPine.  The usual stop at the snowplow turnaround four miles off of Highway 97, on Hwy 138, to let the dog out to lift a leg.

This is always where I start to get excited for this trip.  Back in the car to tackle the pass and count down the mile markers from 95 to 39, which is usually my first stop on the river at Mott Bridge.  The pass wasn't as bad as I've seen it, but not the best either.  The sun just hadn't ever gotten high enough this winter to melt the ice and snow on the road.  I was in no hurry so I drove on cautiously,  with Mt. Thielsen looking postcard-perfect out of the right side of my windshield.  

Heading down the west side of the Cascades, time seems to speed up.  A favorite playlist serving as great background music to the ride.  Landmarks flying by me.  Turnoffs for this waterfall and that.  The first couple of stream-side campgrounds higher up in the fly water.  The Copeland Creek river gage.  The road crossing to the other side of the river at the famous salmon spawning beds.  The Dry Creek Store.  Horseshoe Bend and Apple Creek -- the first place I ever wet a fly on this wonderful river.  The wetness of everything around.  Water seemingly seeping out of every crevice on the northern walls of the canyon.  

This time I passed Mott Bridge and headed directly to make camp at Wright Creek.  Tent up, waders on and a quick conversation with the gentleman the next site over.  A man I camped with last February in that very camp site.  He was wrapping up his visit as mine was just beginning.  We talked about the river, the steelhead, and the fishing.  I drove back up to Mott and hiked the mile and a half to a favorite spot:  Knouse.

I always stop at the peak of the hike to let my knees stop aching for just a minute.  The view of the falls making it a little easier to forget about.....stuff.  Continuing down, everything green with moss.  Leaves of Big Leaf Maples, Alders, Vine Maples and Oaks.  The decaying grey of the vine maple leaves dotting the ground and shrubs.  Echoes of the roaring river off of the trail-side rock walls.  A newly downed Douglas Fir partially blocking the trail and pointing straight down to the water.  I wondered if it would eventually slide down the hillside and be swept away downstream.

Arriving at Knouse, I take a moment to breath it in.  I threw a stick for the pup and tied that fly onto the end of my three foot long leader and seven feet of T-14 sink tip.  Stepped into the river and just stood there for a moment again.  About 30 minutes later I had swung through the entire run confidently but with no results.  Well, at least I didn't lose that fly.  But my day was over.  Time to get to camp for a fire and dinner and beer.

I slept in the next morning.  My body still exhausted from the week's work and the drive and the previous day's hike.  I made a quick breakfast and walked for a bit with my companion.  I hoped that I would be the first at Susan Creek that day.  Better get dressed and on the road.

Susan Creek is a beautiful piece of swinging water.  I hooked my first North Umpqua steelhead here.  And watched my friend land his first also, on a cold, rainy & frosty morning with the river quite swollen.  What a fish.  I fished my marabou well through this water today.  I hooked up twice but failed to bring either in.  My hands shook for a while.  I can still feel those takes.  It's a great feeling even without landing anything.  My confidence was back.

The rest of my visit consisted of more great water, the memories of those two hook-ups still all too fresh in my mind and body.  I could've gotten another tug and would have been totally unprepared for it.  My day and my trip were quickly coming to a close.  I was happy to be able to sleep there again that night.  Yet, really bummed that I couldn't just live there for the winter - something I strongly think about every time I have to leave this place.  If ever I was in love with place, this is definitely it.  I've been home now for 4+ days and it's all I can think about.

A couple nights ago I was having some beers with a buddy.  We stood there under this amazing central Oregon night sky.  We talked about many things.  Though, I'm not sure I really listened to anything.  And out of nowhere I said, "ya know, man?  I can't wait till you hook into a steelhead someday.  So you can understand how much it just ruins you."  Sounds strong, I know.  I'm way too lucky a man to feel that way.  And nobody cares -- not your wife, not your kid, not your non-fishing friends....and maybe least and worse of all, not the fish.