"A Day to Remember"

by Sandy Watts

It was November 1st. A bit early for this many adult steelhead to be that far up stream on the Trinity River.

Just the day before, Halloween, I was on my back from teaching a fly fishing class at Humboldt State University in Eureka, CA. I stopped off up stream from the confluence of the North Fork of the Trinity River. The water was low and clear, a tad early for any significant rain. I began to get very excited as I slipped on my neoprene waders. With rod in hand and a purpose in my gait, I slowly eased into position. When nearly an hour passed by, and almost one hundred yards down stream, I remained fishless. As the water deepened to form a beautiful salmon pool, my two fly set-up began to be suspended. All of a sudden my line tightened and I was fast to a mid twenty inch steely. It leaped three times, then parted company with me. I finished with two more on the beach that were twenty-four inches and twenty-eight inches. Needless to say I was pumped!

The next morning I could be found winding my way West on highway 299. My thoughts were to go back to where I did so well the day before. I decided to stop off at Steelbridge Road, a short distance up stream from Douglas City. If that didn’t work out I could continue on to the North Fork. I decided to use the same set-up I had the day before. My top fly was a heavily weighted black rubber legs, size two. Off the bend of the hook I tied on a pink glow bug. Could there be more fish this far up stream?

As I waded out to the upper end of the first run I was very careful not to make too much commotion. It was 8:30 am, the sky was gray, and the air was magically motionless. I never make my first cast to the prime water, experience has taught me to work my way slowly across to the other side. The first cast landed just beyond the break-off closest to me. It traveled down to where it was directly in front of me. My rod tip jerked downward and all of a sudden a large fish started moving downward and across to a brush pile on the opposite side of the river. In the nick of time I was able to turn its head. Its next move was about three feet out of the water, simultaneously throwing my rig at me. After forty minutes, four hook-ups, and one fish on the bank, visions of leaping steelhead were dancing in my head. Was this going to be one of those days? At this very moment my good fishing buddy, Ross Morrison, was helping his neighbor drive a U-Haul clear across the country to the East Coast. He was only half way there. He normally would be right in the thick of this. I proceeded fifteen minutes up the riverbank to the next run, passing a good run that is better fished from the opposite side. I thought I would fish it on the way back. A dark slot about six feet long was visible in the upper end. The second cast yielded a seventeen inch resident brown. The fifth cast ended with a twenty-three inch steely on the bank. I moved down further and concentrated on two large sunken boulders. Whammy, two more hook-ups.

At this point a familiar voice came from behind me. It was Rachel Connery-Andras and her husband Jim Andras. They decided to stay there and cross to the other side and fish their way back. I marched upstream another ten minutes to another long run, which usually held fish.

Boy, was I right. This run could be fished very effectively from the side I was on. Starting from the top, I fished a good sixty yards. After spending a good hour and a half, I hooked another seven fish and landed three. One of the strikes was like a freight train going the other way at a hundred miles an hour, resulting in a break-off. As I eased out of the water, I turned back and gazed at the water with amazement. Could this continue on the way back to the car? I walked to the run that was being saved for the trip back. After deciding not to cross to the other side, I made my approach from the downstream side. Just then another fisherman from the opposite side came into view. It happened to be someone that I knew as a customer from the shop. We spent five minutes talking, as I explained that this spot usually held fish. The last thing I wanted to do was to be a hog. I eased out of the water and continued down to the original run of the day. After fifteen minutes, two more hook-ups, and one more to the shore, it was time to head for the car. Just in front of the car was a small pocket that Ross Morrison always seemed to pull a fish out from. Could I add insult to injury? Gee, I sure hoped so! This water was quite a bit smaller and slower than what I had just fished. I changed the top fly to a weighted Olive Bird’s Nest, size 10, and kept the Glow Bug as my bottom fly. Just as my offering had entered the darkest part of the run the line tightened and I set the hook. A strong fish surged down stream and then upstream. When I finally got it close enough to see, the reason for its strength was apparent. This was one of the fattest twenty-inch browns that I had ever caught.

What I had just experienced was a trip through the Twilight Zone. In all the years of fishing the Trinity, I had never experienced a day like this! I could only hope that whatever led up to this kind of fishing would continue in the future.

Regardless, I could hardly wait till I would talk to my good fishing buddy, Ross Morrison!