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Starting Time: 7:00 AM
Location: Skykomish River
Method of Persuasion: Jigs
Setup: Okuma Celilo 9'6" 4-8 Pound Test Rod, Pflueger Trion 30 Reel, 10 Pound Test Hydrofloat
Three logs tossed onto the embers of the fire, four synthetic layers hastily thrown over my torso and a mouth outlined with poorly rinsed Crest toothpaste; the perfect recipe for a morning dully devoted to the art and pursuit of angling. This morning was going to be quite the journey, having two wide eyed, excited, neophytic anglers along for the ride. So, after a brief introduction, the shaking of hands and passing along a pair of Cabela's 3 mm waders to Ken and DaMarkus, it was time to put their character to the test against the beauty, splendor and wit of nature.
It is a special day when a new Steelheader is born; the heavens open up, God smiles upon the Earth and the fish defy the laws of nature that govern all veteran Steelheaders. They swim jaws open into whatever is tossed into the water, and sometimes even land themselves. And a special day it was. The first cast sailed most gracefully into the boughs of an Evergreen. A few minutes later, another donation was generously made to the long deceased, half submerged corpse of a fellow Conifer. Since I had been guiding for the past 3 days straight, my eyes were tired, my body was heavy and my spirit was noodle thin. Most importantly, my float supply was dwindling. Actually, my poor DNE float supply was depleted, and despair was beginning to set in as drifting was not and option today. Just as the night darkens the most, prior to dawn, the "luck of the angler" burst forth from it's hiding place and the sky began to radiate it's much needed light.
Half way through the day and after losing our limbs to the frigid waters (what limbs?), DaMarkus shuffled on over to break on the shore and Ken, like a Subway sandwich artist during lunch hour, steadily jabbed away at the slot with his new found river casting skills. Still no "solid" floats down -save one swing and a miss floating eggs- it was time for a much needed change of scenery.
We arrived at our next slot; after a prompt reading of the water and the scenting of a bead bodied, cerise jig, DaMarkus sent out his first cast. For his second cast, I advised him to present his offering along the slow seam of the current over a promising slot that lay ahead. Sure enough, his 11 gram Drenna Piker float slipped quietly beneath the surface, and shortly reappeared with a silver silhouette! It was no ordinary fish on, as this buck's violent head shakes, sub-surface death rolls and writhing fighting style gave away it's recent return to the river; we could taste the salt of the ocean from his gills. This buck sat in the deep water, sprinted upriver in the fast water, rolled like an alligator! In the end gave way to DaMarkus' pristine playing skill and the proper utilization of the Okuma Celilo. Though the fish was bright and covered in more than a fair share of cement like sea lice, nothing shined brighter than the blaring white smile of DaMarkus, having landed his first Steelhead. Ever. With the punch of the heart, the scratch on the catch card and a quick retying of the leader, it was back to casting for the second contestant.
You would think the next fish would come within the next 10 minutes, unfortunately it began to look like one of those days where the excitement comes in short, powerful bursts, like your favorite flavor of Dairy Queen Blizzard that gets prematurely hurled from of your cup holder, thanks to that red light camera in Alderwood. I'm not saying there were no additional floats down (there were more than a half dozen legitimate takes), but things began to look gloomy. I set my watch for the final 20 minutes of our outing and instructed my anglers to cast and mend with perfection. Soon enough, the 20 minute bell rang from my Olive Drab, Timex Ironman watch; it was time for Ken to "place wisely his last cast," and then it was time to go home. Now, most anglers would work a seam, or let their float slowly dance through water moving at walking speed. So Ken, a unique and most intelligent breed (seriously, he was educated and most intelligible), let his last cast loose in the fastest, most unfavorable portion of the run. After asking him why he "botched" his last cast (I bite my tongue), he looked back and shrugged his shoulders as his float sailed down the river at mach speed. And that was it. No hook set, no reeling, no proper mends, no form. DaMarkus and I scanned the water for a good 5 seconds until we finally dismissed Ken's violently bobbing and loaded rod as a moving snag. "Pull up!" we yelled, and it was on! Now this fish was more or less a "heavy" fighter. It sat on the bottom and lazily thrashed with each flex of the rod. Around the 6 minute mark, and after Ken gifted me 2 cardiac arrests, a stroke and an unruly dose of angina pectoris, Ken was able to subdue his opponent to the bank. Spotless chrome armor, pink cheeks and a deep belly lay on it's side gasping for air as Ken danced with joy, celebrating his first Steelhead victory with his friend and brother, DaMarkus.
The type of memory you see when DMT courses through your brain prior to death: watching your best friend bank his first Steelhead (one of many to come), and subsequently having the privilege of subduing your own. That morning, we entered the river as two lake fishermen and a river veteran; that afternoon, we exited the river as Steelheaders; united, equal, together, as one. DaMarkus and Ken, you could not have made a friend and instructor more proud; you have my thanks for allowing me to share this year's "highlight" adventure with you two.
If you want to possess the skill to consistently produce memories like these, you can certainly take the path of trial and error. To me, time is the most valuable asset, one that I cannot regain, a resource that I must not only cherish, but spend more wisely than any man made currency. Otherwise, if you're interested in accruing the tools and skills to circumvent the years of the latter, give me a call; you have a teacher who lives and breathes for your success out on the water for anything Steelhead related.
I challenge you to fill your life with fond memories of such great caliber, ones you savor when gray and white hairs assault your liver spotted scalp. Live your life one cast, one step and one Steelhead at a time. Reel Priorities, out.
Rock to rock. Cast by cast.
Specializing in the Instruction of Advanced Salmon & Steelheading Techniques and Systematic Bank Fishing Tactics.
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ReelPriorities.com
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