HOW’S THE FISHING? If I had a buck for every time somebody asked that question, I wouldn’t waste my time as a wilderness gossip columnist.
The fact is steelhead fishing is bad and getting worse.
People often wonder when is the best time to catch a steelhead, which is like asking when is the best time to win the lottery. Today is as good a day as any.
As a guide who fishes 500 days a year, I’ve found the best fishing is generally the week before you get here or the day after you left.
Fishing is a question of timing.
You should have been here 100 years ago, because even if you understand the fishing laws, battle the crowds and pack your pepper spray, you need a miracle to catch a steelhead these days. I blame the government for its failed management of the steelhead. That way, I look like a fishing genius if we actually catch one.
It’s all part of the seamy underbelly of the sport fishing industry. Where the unsuspecting angler is subjected to a series of degrading hazing rituals where they are forced to get up in the middle of the night to go fishing.
The lucky angler is told it’s important to be on the water at daylight.
Then, they are driven around in circles in the dark to launch the boat before dawn, then sit in the first light, waiting for that first strike, only to be told the fish really don’t bite until 10 in the morning.
That’s a good time to relax, soak in the scenery and have a nice cup of coffee.
Invariably, on a winter steelhead fishing trip, this coffee can be frozen solid in the cup shortly after it is poured.
I offer to chip the coffee out with a knife I’ve been using to clean the fish.
That makes for a fish-flavored espresso that could test just how bad you need your morning coffee.
Chances are, you’ll need that cup of coffee pretty badly by now. Especially when sitting in the dark in the rain, where it all seems to be running down the back of your neck.
The lucky angler tries hard to stay awake while wondering if drowsiness is a symptom of the final stages of hypothermia.
Often during the final stages of hypothermia, the angler can become incoherent, asking crazy questions such as, “How will I know if I get a bite?”
“You’ll know,” I explain. “That’s when the screaming starts.”
It’s when the lucky angler actually gets a bite that things can go terribly wrong.
People generally react by “setting the hook,” just like they saw on a bass fishing show on TV.
This can jerk the lure right out of the fish’s mouth.
It is much better to wait and let the fish set the hook on its own.
That can require patience. Patience is a rare virtue.
Often, the only way to give the fish time to bite is to convince the angler that it’s not a fish at all at the end of their line.
I tell them they’re snagged up to a log or the bottom of the river.
When the fish jumps, I act surprised and tell them to control their fish.
Controlling the fish is impossible, but it transfers the blame from the guide to the client where it belongs, until they lose the fish.
And why did we lose the fish?
The rules make us use barbless hooks so once again we can blame the government.
It’s all in a day’s fishing.
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Pat Neal is a Hoh River fishing and rafting guide and “wilderness gossip columnist” whose column appears here every Wednesday.
He can be reached at 360-683-9867 or by email via patnealproductions@gmail.com.
