Week of November 23rd 2025: Getting Closer
Sometimes someone will walk into our shop and not know what fly fishing is exactly. I like to say, “We take fishing and make it more complicated.” It’s a quick joke and can get a smile from the fly fishing buddy or spouse the questioner is with. Steelhead fishing with a fly is a whole other situation.
Hopeful after the SBO crew had a successful trip to Erie, PA, I took time off and traveled to Pulaski to chase “chrome” on an annual Trout Unlimited trip. I have been several years running, hooked steelhead on a few of those outings, but have yet to land one. I regret to say that streak continues, but I am getting closer each time. This year, I managed to get the fish to the net twice before he spooked in the shallow water on the third attempt to land it and it was gone.
The flows were not great from the outset. The Salmon River was over 2000 cfs when I left predawn on Thursday, so I headed to the South Sandy creek and arrived by nine. It was cold and sunny and a beautiful day. The Sandy is an interesting creek that cut through a flat landscape with steep banks, deep cuts and shallow runs down cascading shale steps. Things looked very promising. Unfortunately, all the steelhead have “left” the creek, according to the other anglers I spoke to but continued to poke around without seeing any fish or anglers hooking up.
In the afternoon I found my bunk at the lodge and talked things over with the group. Acting on a tip from a fly shop, a few of us decided to wake up and head out in the predawn hours. We staked our claim along a promising looking bank on Friday morning. The sunlight came to the sky, but the sun never really rose and a lead color sky foretold the day’s fishing. The river was still bursting at the banks and wading could be dangerous. We fished hard all day with nary a touch. The only folks who could find a fish were on boats and running beads or egg sacs. Myself and other fly anglers swapped out egg patterns for streamers and spey flies. After a long day, twelve folks returned to the lodge and only one angler had a fish to net - with the aid of a guide in the Douglaston Salmon Run - Dan’s picture even made their report! Go Dan! With his wind behind our sails, our spirits were rising and then we heard the news we were waiting for.
The dam was going to close and reduce the flow to 850 cfs.
Human engineering is amazing. Overnight, the river dropped and we could wade out to where, the day before, only boats could access likely seams and runs. We were up and off in the wee hours again, anticipating an influx of folks coming to town with the receding flows. Well, we may not had to arrive as early as we did, but it was worth it. Saturday was colder, but the sun was out. The fishing improved with a few folks getting some takes. I had yet to feel the slightest bump from a fish. I opened my box and surveyed the flies I tied and bought: flashy, bright eggs in purple, blue, red, and pink and orange tied with Estaz or crystal meth or puff balls or diamond braid; egg sucking-leeches and flesh flies and zonkers. I had even tied my first spey fly, a Hoh-Bo spey. I was starting to wonder if the river itself didn’t like me!
Around 2:00 on Saturday afternoon, with two hours left in my annual chance for the hero steelhead shot I thought back to my first trip to Pulaski. After I had taken a course on rowing drift boats in Pennsylvania, I hit it off with one of the instructors and met him mid-February for my first steelhead experience. “Gunny” used big, black stone flies, tied on a #8 nymph hook with a bead. No flash or neon or sparkle. SBO sells almost the exact same fly, with the welcome addition of rubber legs and I had five in my box. I tied it on with three AB split shots and … nothing. I was about to change back to an egg when I decided to add one more weight to the line and that was the key, it seems. The next cast through I felt a decisive bump. I cast again and the line stopped and didn’t move. I set the hook and for the next ten minutes hoped and prayed and made bargains in my head. I could tell it was a big fish and fumbled with the drag. The hook remained in the fish’s mouth and my knots, the 4x tippet, and everything else just felt good. I enjoyed the hum of the line and the ache in my arm. The fish was on long enough I could calm down and plan on getting it in. I realized later the drag was nearly full and the fish was still taking line.
My net-man and I worked as best we could. Twice the fish was between us and I lowered it downstream towards home plate. Panic returned when I realized it was impossible to see the fish with the glare on the water. Despite some stellar teamwork and longer breaks between each run, the third attempt gave the fish an opportunity to slip between the net and the bank. One more burst just at the net and the fish was off. Feeling jubilant and exhausted, I really didn’t care. I could have fought it more, but that could have killed it. Back on the bank and re-rigging revealed the drag was nearly on full with the fish still taking line. Likely this was the cause of the final snap when I had it in close.
I was packing up for the drive home and hearing about the other members’ days on the river. Still no one landed a fish, but other people had hooked up, too. Only later did it occur to me to ask how big it was; I never got a good look at it during the fight. You may not believe me if it told you.
Stop by this week to check out our Black Friday sale items. Air Flo, big name rods and reels, and fly tying materials at discount prices. We are still running trips and the Winter stocking is next month! Sign up for a 101 tying class or join us Thursday nights (after Turkey day) for open tying with other enthusiasts.
See you out there!
Roy B.