A breath of fresh air

Winter has not been kind this season.. Granted, there were a few days around the holiday week that were pretty nice.. but with my only sister [from Spokane] and only niece [Seattle] back on the home farm for a few days I passed on the fishing. Normally we recieve some sort of thaw in January but New Years day was the end of anything even resembling one. I should have, and even could have, went early on new January 1 but it was real easy to convince myself staying home might be a better option. It was a mistake.. Peeking at the flow charts later glared in my face just how much.. conditions appeared to be perfect. This little trib has fished best in December by far over the many years I've been on it. Oh well.. opportunities missed.

The next fishable day was Feb 05 and off I went with high expectations. There were no tracks in evidence on the old road.. a good sign.




I access the river from a remote county road service pull out and snowshoe in. I'd actually gotten over 3 miles from home and remembered I hadn't put in the shoes. Almost went on without them.. that would have been a BIG mistake. Most efficient few minutes I spent all day was returning to get them. The water was quite low with big wind blown drifts and plenty of shelf ice along the banks. Fishing went fairly well until the banks began caving in and icebergs started flowing thickly. The first few times a crack or crash rang out I jumped pretty good, they come out of nowhere amidst otherwise total silence. Fished hard over about 5 hours, took a nice 19+" resident Brown not to far in then nothing for a long time.




Last run, and one of the best, I had a good grab in the gut and some light little nips /nibbles down in the tail.. just the sort that reverberated rainbow up the line, through the blank, and into your hand. No go though.. I changed flies and went back to the head of the gut where the good grab came with no further interest. On the long walk out in the dusk I reflected on how lucky I was to encounter the Brown.

Feb 23 is the next good chance for fishing. While it's still cold outside I tie a grey skulpin streamer. I'm somewhat superstitious and fresh tied flies seem to possess good charm. Go over some tackle and I'm off. What a grand day, it's got a totally different feel to it than a couple weeks ago had. Second pool I fish reveals a startling phenonema I've never witnessed to this degree before. The banks / shelf ice had all settled and with bright sunlight thawed snow creating perfect rows of miniture ice sickles, each one an exact replication of it's left and right hand neighbor.. A lense couldn't possibly capture the wonder and awe they presented.. row after row.. all the banks within eyesight up and down, hundreds of feet. They reminded me of piano keys or possibly some sort of ornate brick a brack lace. Anyway, it was quite stunning. Had I been there in the early a.m. the suns position would have offered a much better shot.








Unlike the last outing there was life evidenced both visual and audio. A solitary Eagle soared through not that far off and the Crows were brash and brassy.. early signs of spring. One of the coolest things was a small flock of Bufflehead ducks that came upstream like rockets, in tight formation just inches off the surface. I stood immobile and when they reached me, timed to a micro second, the flight split each side blistering by @ Mach III.. their wing primarys making a tearing sound as they carved air with maneuvers.. I felt the breeze on my face.

Casting is going well, the slight wind is over my right shoulder and quartering downstream.. the fresh grey skulpin is swimming well.. Perfect. Just reaching the prime of the pool I fire one of those casts that for some reason you just know is the one.. sure enough just as it starts the turn I feel the pickup. Dropping the rod tip with it for what seems an unbearably long time I then give a good lift into.. solid shaking weight. About the time I decide it doesn't feel that heavy it comes up and never slows, shooting airborne, a bright silver missle of approximate 4.5 lbs. Back down in, a couple headshakes then running at me hard.. the line never tightened up again. Resting the pool for 10 - 15 minutes was easy, looking around at the piano keys and shooting a few more pics.. heard the spring song of an unrecognised bird but could never get an eye on him. I re-started just above where the fish took. On about the fourth swing below that marked spot the pickup replays itself, once again I lift into solid life.. only this time the connection remains. This fish never jumped, he might have at one time but I didn't encourage him. A nice Bulldog built Buck still cocky and full of attitude.





I finish my day out with one more good grab that came up empty. The fish would not comeback.. I was fine with that. The sun was dropping below the tree line as I fished the last pool. My guides really started freezing up then. They had been slowly closing all day, even with the direct sunlight, but only needed cleared occasionally. The problem was solved when I struck wood and broke off my fly. There was still good amount of daylight left but rather than push it I reeled up and went out.. it was more than enough to put the soul at ease.