The Bug

The steelhead bug.  I got it.  Bad!  It sucks not knowing when I'll be able to hit the river again.  Life gets in the way, as always...

Not even a day or even a couple hours on a local river fishing for some of the most beautiful trout in the world will help this illness.  Funny, because I could easily be on one of my favorite stretches of trout water in an hour.  These days my mindset is that I might as well just drive the extra hour and a half to get to a favorite stretch of steelhead water.  Last year when I was in a terrible steelhead slump, I thought about focusing more on trout for the rest of the year.  Which I did for a bit.  The salmonfly hatch takes my attention away for a month or so.  But, then, a void.

And then, invitations for trips to the John Day.  Even with my slump continuing I still at least got some solid grabs and bumps.  You wonder whether those were actually steelhead.  You wonder if you'll actually EVER hook another one.  Then there are weekends like my last North Umpqua trip.  Where you hook a fish or two and there is no doubt:  "THAT was a steelhead!"  The confidence finally comes back.  Only to have to wait it out at home wondering when the next window of opportunity will come. That's where I am right now.  Tying is only helping so much.  It may, in fact, be worse.  Because I sit there looking at my freshly tied fly, curious as to how it will swim;  how it will look to a fish, assuming I'm able to find them next time.  What comeback flies should I have tried/will try, should I find a player.  All I can think about are the fish...

I got the bug.  And the only real cure is time on the water.