Redemption.

Skykomish River
December 19th, 2015
7:20AM-12:00PM
Cabela's WLGUL 8'2" Pro Guide

After an agonizing several days without fishing due to my injured knee, The desire to get back out there has grown exponentially. I was lucky enough to only have a bone bruise on my kneecap (Rob Gronkowski?) and not have broken or cracked anything or torn any ligaments. My Lamiglas is once again in the shop but is 100% repairable, so again, I feel blessed to not have damaged it more.

I got to my run around 7:30 and it took very little time for the day to get going. Slinging out my presentation of a home-tied jig, watching the float dance happily along the surface of the water, a couple line mends, and repeating, I felt confident in my jig choice and the water as the drifts began.

Third cast, float drifting slowly downstream from me. The green indicator top sank like a rock and a hookset brought the line tight on the fish that lay below. No chrome flashes, but heavy head shakes and thrashing on the surface signaled a good sized fish. It was a fight style I haven't encountered frequently, like a mix between a silver and a king. She held out in the pool and used her weight to combat my countering of her movements, shaking her head and taking me downstream, slowly but surely.

I had a hunch at what I hooked, but was unsure until I got her close enough to view through the slightly stained water. Chrome sides, red blush on the cheek and lateral line, and blue-grey back. Not many fish fit that description.

This fish I was able to control after a ten minute fight, carefully playing it out, not rushing my advances. I redemptive tailing of the fish completed the fight, and my personal best hatchery steelhead lay on the bank in front of me. I saluted her efforts and thanked her for lending her life to sustain my ever-persistent soul. Measuring 32 1/2" long, nose to tail fork, she was a great fish.

It was not the last bobber down encountered.

Switching to a nightmare jig pattern, first cast. The Bobber sank as if yanked down by a Sasquatch. Chrome flashed signaled a presence on the end of my line. Whitefish.

Well, damn.

Next cast, a little deeper into the pool, the bobber lackadaisically sunk below the frigid waters. This time, another steelhead was on the line. That is, a 12ish inch wild smolt. He was hooked harmlessly and returned to the water, hopefully to return as a hefty B-run in the coming years.

I prodded more water, but as the sun rose higher, the pain in my knee was slightly aggravated and I decided it would be best to head out. One large fish is enough for me.

It was a memorable day. My first winter steelie landed, one I won't soon forget.

What an amazing day.

Tight lines, and may your heart be ever captured by the steel soul of our northwest rivers.

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