Since the previous two days of fishing covered a wide stretch of water, I pretty much knew where I wanted to go on this third and final day. The morning started out at Station, which to my surprise was once again empty. I tried both chugging dries and swinging wets. One solid tug sent my heart racing. But, after many attempts to get that fish to grab again, it didn't happen. I like to pretend that the tug was enough. But, I really wanted to see what grabbed hold of that fly! It felt like a biggie.
Eventually, I moved off Station and worked the maze of rock downstream to Upper/Lower Boat. I caught several smaller fish in the mid teens (inches), but nothing more.
Before I forget, let's skip ahead to late afternoon. I hit the Boat runs (and Station) from the road side. It provided limited casting space, but also gave me a different angle at the water. It was probably the hottest part of the day and no fish showed any attention to my offerings. However, next time, I'll give the road side another chance. Especially on Boat. I felt like the swing and dangle were moving through some good spots.
Spent some time in Upper Kitchen with a grab or two, but couldn't get anything more. I'm not sure how big these fish were. It can be deceiving with the faster water here. I waded through some more tricky floor structure to Lower Kitchen. Or maybe it was "The Fighting Hole" or even "Upper Mott". As someone not quite familiar enough with the water, the runs aren't absolutely clear to me. Whatever, the case, it was some pretty tight water with some very narrow slots. The fish were super grabby here. I was chugging dries and getting attention on almost every grab. Mostly small fish I'm sure. Got a few to hand, they were no bigger than 12 inches.
As the sun was just hitting the water, I decided to take another stroll downstream- just as I had on day 1. This time, I knew where to stop. My first destination provided a tough casting angle, but I could get my fly out there for a short swing. I saw a few flashes, but after spending some time switching out flies and presentations, nothing ever grabbed on. Occasionally, a large steelhead would come completely out of the water not more than 30 feet from me. It was startling at times.
I promised pictures and video for this post. But I just haven't had time to digitize them into the computer. I'll be doing that before long and will probably put them in their own blog post.
A bit further down, I found this great slot outside of the main current that had more small fish. But the water was so nice looking, I couldn't resist seeing what was in there. To reach this one particular spot, I had to crawl up on a boulder, I was now about 10 or more feet above the water. Casting my dry and letting it skate almost directly below me. This was a cool vantage point. I could see deep into the water. Must of been 10 or more feet deep. It was neat to see the fly directly below me and the deep water backdrop. Imagine a glassy surface and this fly skating across the top with the dark green water below.
Smaller fish were slashing at the fly constantly. Yet, I didn't give up. I felt like something was down there. So, I kept at it and from out of no where, I see a flash. A fish came from down deep and grabbed the fly in his mouth and immediately turned back down. It surprised me so much that I immediately yanked my rod. Luckily, the hook stuck and I didn't pull it right out of his mouth. The fish went berserk.
He made a short run downstream, then back up. Took a direct route across to some more boulders. I couldn't do much about it. I was 10 feet up (and my rod tip was another 10 feet higher) trying to figure out how to get down to the water without losing this guy. It was challenging.
After a few minutes, I managed to climb down from my perch without losing the fish, I got to the water and put my hand underneath. He wasn't all that big. Maybe 20 or 21 inches. But, he was a good looker. After taking the hook out and giving him a moment to rest, he swam off into the deep.
For me, this was an unusual angle to see the fish come from the depths and get the fly. I won't forget it for a while.
After scooting along more boulders, I finally made it about 50 feet to the main river slot. It only took about 30 minutes. Argh! After walking about a half mile downstream, I sat for a lunch. I was now where I caught a decent sized fish on the first day.
After eating, I stood up while my foot was flat on the feature-less slanted rock. The cleats made an awful scraping sound and I went down hard on my knuckle and then on my side. Initially, I thought I broke something in my hand, but luckily I only had some bleeding and a sore hand. Even when you aren't in the water, the rocks are slick around here. All it takes is one second of not paying attention. Man, the NU has really beaten me up the last couple of days. But, all of the slips were just moments of not thinking clearly. You need to always watch your step.
After sitting for a few, making sure everything was okay (including my rod that banged the rock), I went further downstream and couldn't find any decent water. Ready to head back to Camp Water, I spent about 20 minutes trying to find a path up the thick brush to the trail that was somewhere up there. It wasn't easy, but eventually I made it.
Exhausted, I walked the mile or so back to my car for a 2 or 3 mile drive upstream. Found some great looking water. And one run in particular was filled with more aggressive fish. Unfortunately, they were small guys too. I moved on and back to the Mott parking lot.
Walking upstream above the bridge, I took this incredibly steep -what I thought was a- trail to the river. Turns out it wasn't a trail and I was now practically crawling down a very steep slope covered with slick leaves. Standing completely upright, I could hit the ground with my elbow, if that gives you any idea how steep it was. Grabbing onto anything I could grab onto, I made it down to the water without as much as a slip. For all that effort? More small fish! Argh.
There was no way I was going to climb back up where I came down. So, I waded my way downstream to an easier exit. Went back to Mott bridge and looked over the side to see a dozen or two really big steelhead relaxing in the current. I decided to give it a try. After getting to the water, I cast out my line, but it was nearly impossible to get down to where the fish were. Certainly not without a weighted fly. And I wasn't about to put on a sink tip. I left the fish alone and went back downstream towards Sawtooth.
Looking past Sawtooth and on down to Station, I could see Scott Howell again with his camera crew. As I wiggled my way through the runs down to the bend at Station, they seemed to be doing more casting for the camera than actual fishing. Shame. While I wasn't all that interested in going out there, others may of been. I moved past them and to Boat. A couple of large steelhead were now jumping, but I couldn't get any to take interest.
My final hours on the river took me through Lower Boat and to Kitchen. I caught some more fish, all under 18". But no adult steelhead. No worries. It was an incredible three days on an absolutely beautiful river. When I go again, I'll do some more exploring. There are miles of accessible runs to keep one busy.
Stay tuned for the video/picture posting, and Day 4, which isn't a fishing report, but sharing what I learned from Lee on Steamboat Creek.
