“I have never lost a little fish – Yes, I’m free to say. It was always the biggest fish I caught that got away.” Eugene Field

“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.” Norman Mclean

The boat ride up the river was insane. I have come down rivers on drift boats a few times, but to shoot up the mighty Deschutes with her millions of hidden boulders and huge rapids was something else.

We finally stopped at a beautiful spot and got the spey primer from Jeff. Little did I know how much I actually sucked at spey casting. Almost everything I thought I was doing right ended up being wrong. Jeff showed me why I was only really fishing for maybe 20% of my float. And the worst part is that old habits are the hardest to break.

He did manage to get our drifts into good enough shape with the floating line that I got a strong bump from a steelhead. Just a few seconds later Alex got one on the line just above me. Jeff really wanted us to have a double, but my fish just would not come back for another take. Alex’s fish came off after a roll, so Jeff took him down river and put a skater on. On one of his first casts a fish came up and slammed at the fly. It slammed that fly five times before it committed and Alex had a really nice hatchery fish on.

I had a few more bumps and Alex did also, but the day started to slow. We tried a few more spots up the river, but nothing. The clouds broke up and the sun came out, so we stopped to have grilled brats, ceasar salad and potato salad. Delicious! I even downed a Total Domination IPA to try and smooth out my cast, which by this point had gone to hell. The skagit head with the sink tip is not my friend.

We kept on fishing through the afternoon and all of us were getting tired of not finding any fish. The wind picked up and the sink tip seemed to be getting harder to throw with every cast. I was getting really annoyed with myself. Then Jeff took the rod from my hand and told me “Calm down. Look around you. Look where you are. Look at those birds gliding around the cliffs. Look at the light on the water.” When I regained some calmness he handed me back the rod. I tried to just relax (which can be really hard for me) and put all the spey casting pieces together. After another ten minuets of casting I got a nice 7 or 8 pounder on the line. The fish however came in with absolutley no fight until it was right next to me. Then it decided to go between my legs and roll like crazy. Needless to say it came off. Damn.

I cast back into the same bucket for another ten or fifteen minutes trying to remain calm. And Wohhoooo!!! I found a fighter! Jeff let out a mighty howl that echoed off the canyon walls. The line was screaming off the reel. I was trying to spot the fish way down the river where my line was and then saw a jump in the middle of the river up from me. “Reel!!! Reel!!” I heard Jeff yell at me. “Faster!”After what seemed like an eternity I got the fish close enough for Jeff to grab it. And there it was, my first steelhead to hand.

The release.

This is what happens when you are reeling at warp speed.

Alex had Emily, Chloe, and I over for dinner the night he caught this one. Yummy hatchery fish. Save the wild gene pool AND delicious.

“Fly-fishing is solitary, contemplative, misanthropic, scientific in some hands, poetic in others, and laced with conflicting aesthetic considerations. It is not even clear if catching fish is actually the point.” John Gierach

“But remember, the back cast is the foundation, and that unless it is solid the superstructure will be rickety.” Henry P. Wells

So my fishing buddy turned the big 40 and some fishing, good food, and drinking was in order.

We took the wives and kids down to our favorite area on the upper McKenzie and found great dispersed camping spot right on the bank of the river. We set up camp as quick as we could and then busted a move to a fishing spot we like. There was not a lot of dry fly action but the Parachute Adams was good for a few fish in the 10 to 12 inch range. More action was found nymphing though, especially with little Pheasant Tails dropped below a really heavy fly. Now that I think about it I have no idea where all my Mercury Pheasant Tails are. Hmmm…

We got back to camp and the birthday boy cooked up his steaks cooked in a pound of butter, half a bottle of Dijon mustard, and bottle of Cognac. Then you flambé the whole thing. It’s delicious but cleaning up those dishes the next morning was a major chore, all the butter and all.

The next morning we hiked up to the Blue Pool which is a four mile round trip hike. The pool is a beautiful sapphire blue and crystal clear. When you get up to the pool the cliff you are standing on is about 40 feet high so we hiked around to the far side to make it down to the water (we had the kids or the Billy Goat in me would have loved to try and make it down the steep side). The water swells up from the lava below the pool and Alex any my wife were debating jumping in but a quick dunk of there hand convinced them that hypothermia would probably set in within seconds.

At the head of the pool you can see the old river bed and it really made me sad. At one point it must have been such a beautiful area with the water plunging in to the pool. Instead the Eugene Water and Electric Company plugs the water up in a Carmen Reservoir and then pipes it a few miles underground to Smith Reservoir. Check out this lucky reporter who actually saw water flowing over the falls one day (http://www.kval.com/younews/22696999.html).

We headed back to camp for some lunch and then back out for some fishing It was more of the same with the bulk of the fish coming to hand with nymphs. I was really wishing I had a czech nymph set up because I think I was missing several gentle takes. We kept telling ourselves “one more fish” but you know how that goes. One more after this one. After this one…

In the end it just got dark out so we headed back to camp. We had Salmon over the fire and roasted bell peppers. Several Cuba Libre’s later I got to hear stories of Alex’s two week trip up to BC. Hopefully I will be able to get some photos out of him soon and we may even be graced with a little write up here! Basically it was lots of big trout taking dry flies with wild abandon but we will see.

The next morning we got our little village packed up and loaded back into the cars. We headed up the river and saw a few fish rising. While I was switching flies a fish rose down below me and Alex casted across the river to try and get it to come up again. “HEY, that’s my fish!” I yelled back at him. Trying to fish my side! Geez. Anyhow the fish didn’t take his fly and I showed him the fly the fish was going to take and put it on. Casted straight up river to get nice drift down and right as the fly came over the fish it slammed the fly. HA! Goddard Caddis to the rescue. Pain in the ass to tie but the fish love ‘em. We fished the next hour and then the wives came to fetch us as it was noon nap time for the kids and that makes it the perfect time to drive two and a half hours back home. My daughter slept all but the last 15 minuets of the drive which is a huge nap for her. Thanks for watching her while Alex and I played this weekend honey!

btw: you can’t see it but she would giggle away the whole time she was pulling her ring back in.