Photo by Jerrin Uecker of North 40 Outfitters
Worry
After loading into the jet-boat we ran to the
mouth of the river, only to find the water
looking a bit murky. We thought, Maybe the
mud is only influencing the lower portion
of the river and that, upstream, water
clarity wouldn’t be an issue. Unfortunately,
20 miles upstream we found the same
conditions, with a river offering only six
inches of visibility. Even so, I tied on a
mouse pattern. I forgot about bananas
and just about everything else when, on
the third cast, a bull trout exploded on the
mouse. He missed it cleanly, but I was now
expecting to catch a lot of fish. We worked
five runs thoroughly, but after a while we
only had two or three fish to hand—nothing
like the fishing we experienced the year
before. And then it started to rain. Would
the river blow out completely, I wondered?
Would we be able to find enough fish to
make everyone happy and get the footage
we desired? A dismal feeling crept over
me. And I had to consider, Was it a mistake
to expect the fishing to be fantastic two
years in a row?
I started feeling more optimistic at the next
run where we landed eight fish in rapid
succession. Then we cruised downstream
and up a side channel where a clear creek
flowed in. That stream provided about 10
feet of clear water in the main channel
and the bull trout were stacked up there.
We doubled on bulls right away. Then I
skated a mouse and caught a big sea-run
cutthroat. After that the bulls kept coming
and when we motored away from the
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channel we’d landed about 15 of them.
But, Houston, we had a problem; the rain
didn’t let up. We stopped at three more
runs on our way downstream and couldn’t
dredge up a fish. That evening, while
resting on the mothership, the rain poured
down and I started to truly believe in the
banana law.
Doubt
In the morning we all agreed; no bananas
for breakfast. Maybe no bananas ever
again. Coffee and bacon and eggs . . . and
nothing else. From now on, the threat of a
bypass would just be part of the game.
We were gearing up to fish a different river
this day, and praying for cleaner water.
Cruising into its estuary we found the
water to be “steelhead green.” We tried to
keep our hopes in check. That only lasted
until we got to the river and saw rock
shelves three or four feet down—perfect
conditions. We raced upstream to the first
run. Then we piled out of the boat and
started fishing the deeper pockets where
bull trout live. And we caught . . . nothing.
We quickly moved to another nice run and
only caught a couple small bulls. I was
about to admit that this trip wouldn’t live up
to the experience I’d had in 2016, but then I
threw a cast behind me, into shallow water,
where Jake and Jerrin were filming. And
on the hang-down a bull crushed the fly. I
landed that fish, and without moving my feet
caught five more from the shallows.
In the morning we all agreed;
no bananas for breakfast.
Maybe no bananas ever again.
Coffee and bacon and eggs . . .
and nothing else.
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