River Report: Salmon Are In

Went down to the river one evening earlier this week. The salmon--Chinooks--are in with a vengeance. Spent some time with them at one of their ancient and perennial spawning beds south of the bridge. Watching, photographing, videotaping, marveling.

At dusk went upstream to the Bridge Run and caught a feisty smallmouth. Nice finish.

Climbed up the rocky staircase, back to the "real world."

River Update: Watching for Salmon, Hoping for Steelhead

At the river on Thursday to watch for salmon and hope for steelhead. Forgot the net. Hook four beautiful trout in the Bridge Run, bring only two to hand, one of the escapees breaks the fly off. One smallmouth. At the glide hook two probable smallmouth, bring none to hand. Stripping in to change flies brings a savage strike and a miss five feet away. Two more strips and while lifting the fly out of the water fish hits it again, snaps it off and takes it with him. Finally, at dusk, at the tailout of the Glide, a salmon or two show up, waking and slapping. The first arrivals at the party.

River Report: Fall Fun

Streamers, smallmouth and trout, the first fall colors, and a river in perfect shape getting ready for the imminent arrival of the big anadromids....

River Report: Good To Have You Back

You've been watching the river. It has been high and unfishable for most of the summer, but now it has dropped to perfect levels for unrestricted wading. So you tie up a couple of new Woolly Buggers and head out.

You slide down the steep path on your butt and go to work in the Bridge Run. This is your old stomping ground.

You hook a very nice trout right away. He's almost in your hand when he shakes the hook and bids farewell. So you wade out, climb the rocks, and get the net from the truck. It seems as though it might come in handy. Back in the water you hook another heavy trout. Now you're ready. But he jumps off the hook before you can get him near the net. You hook another trout, and this one comes to the net, but it is a mere child compared to the other two.

You stay there and try to find another good trout, but the best you can do is a small smallmouth. You don't even need the net.

You head upstream to The Glide. This is a sweet piece of water, even at low levels, because of the deep potholes all along its length.

To paraphrase Ratty from The Wind in the Willows, there is nothing--absolutely nothing--half so much worth doing as simply messing about with streamers.

In short order, at the height of the swing, there's a bulldog take, and a very nice smallmouth gives you a fine ride. You're glad now you went for the net.

You soon hook another, better than the first, but he jumps clean out of the water and the fly goes arcing away into space. Then a cast or two later you bring another to the net.

And, a few more paces downstream, you get another strong take and hard fight.

Another heavy fish. You guess he'd go two and a half pounds soaking wet. These are the best smallmouth you've caught out of this river.

You get to the end of the run and keep going downstream to the bridge. You wonder if those big trout are back.

You find no more trout, but another small bronzeback comes out of the bronze of the evening river. It's a fitting benediction.

 You wade out, stepping over the first of the fallen leaves, and climb the rocks and head for home.

It's good to have you back, River.