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Day 1

Fishing the lower Kenai River today with Jeremy Anderson of Drift Away Guiding Service . . . beautiful sunny weather, but a tougher day on the water as the wind picked up, but as long as the sun is out all is fine with me. My custom 8 wt. Fetha Styx kicked some serious butt while hucking some heavier weight into the wind. Started out fishing several different color beads, but soon switched to fishing some custom-made flesh flies and things kicked into high gear.

Day 2

Not a bad start to the trip! We’ve lost quite a few fish, but everything I have caught has been at least 23 inches . . . the biggest being around 27-28 inches . It’s been frigid in the mornings, 24 degrees when we first hit the water, but the afternoons have been epic: mid-to-high 50′s, sunny and perfectly clear.

My mind starts to wander back to the weekend’s events and the feelings I get every time I get ready to embark on a new fishing adventure. I start to think that the actual act of fishing becomes a forethought (especially when you get skunked like I did this past weekend) when compared to the quality time you get to spend with great friends, laughing, learning new techniques and the blissful state of mind that overwhelms you the second you push off of shore in your drift boat and fall into the river’s current. All the day-to-day work and life stress seems to quickly fade away — as fast as it takes to have your line snapped by a large steelhead.

I had the great opportunity of leaving behind the handcuffs of city and work life for a few days this last weekend and intended to make every second of it count.  When you are on the river with no email, no cell phone service, some great friends, a few beers and a river to yourself you feel almost invincible. 

This got me thinking about what fishing actually means to me. It’s so much more than the proverbial bragging rights that naturally come with the quality and quantity of fish caught. Camaraderie becomes the name of the game. When you are out steelheading on a tough day it almost becomes a team sport. Everyone is working hard. Constantly tying on new setups, trying new colors and set ups, hucking out longer leaders, more weight and finding new fishy water and different approaches. Your hopes rise and fall with not only your own cast, but also with everyone else in the boat.  And since I personally lost a few fish this weekend while others in the boat successfully landed fish, the joke running around was that I can lay claim to at least 1/8 or a similar fraction of credit for the fish caught (or so I like to tell myself). Overall though, that doesn’t matter all the time.

Making calls to some old buddies all week long, I finally wrangled a crew that consisted of some of the most skilled fly-fisherman that I know from my days in Montana.  All are life-long fisherman, and some are current or former Idaho and Montana fishing guides. The best part about this group is their infectious love and attitude toward fishing that is both relaxing and intense, if that is at all possible. They are the type of guys that will make fun of you for casting into wind and a tangle, toss you a beer and then give you a 15 minute tutorial on the art of casting while you try to fix your mess . . . while sticking another fish.  I learn more on these types of trips than I do from a full season of trial and error exploring my new home in the Pacific Northwest.

Back to the weekend. Weather-wise, it was paradise compared to the many weekends I have spent in the area battling below freezing temperatures, blowing wind, snow and sleet. The first day I was even able to sport just a t-shirt in the 60-plus degree weather.  We knew we were in for an interesting day with this sunny warm weather and a previous fishing report saying “it’s like they are all gone!” That didn’t deter us in the least bit and we had the river to ourselves as we dropped the boat in the water after raiding the hotel’s complementary breakfast for the first of many times.  Within the first hour we found out quick the abundance of the often misaligned sucker fish in the river, as a friend “christened” his new fly rod with one of these funny lipped fish to everyone’s laughter.   Things were quiet for a few hours until we anchored up several miles down river when with the first cast into the new hole all we hear is “ohhh yea, its him…steely dan” and everyone came out of their mid-day haze for the excitement. Some furious runs later and a few skips of the ol’ heartbeat when the fish seemed to be tangled up in someone else’s set up, the beautiful and surprisingly still chromed out and shiny native steelhead was netted and released — promptly to be followed by a ceremonial shot of whiskey.

The day concluded with the waning of sunlight, where a herd of about 25-30 head of elk grazed on the ridge above us and a few comments of “I love this f-ing place” turned into good-natured ribbing about the five shots (four missed) it took for a friend to take down his first elk the previous season.

The next day we woke to overcast skies, a bit of montezumas revenge from a jaunt to the local Mexican restaurant, another opportunity to destroy the hotel’s continental breakfast and a few more friends showing up.  First hole in the morning was some work. Extra deep for our fly-lines and indicators. Waylin makes the call and decides that with his sink-tip line he will just forgo his indicator. Not ten seconds after he comments that I have to be faster on my hook set for these fish, he rips into another steelhead lip.  Once again it’s on, but something peculiar happens. 

For the first time in all of our lives we witness what we happened to call the “Jaws” move.  We have all had a fish rip out a bunch of line only to pull a 180 and race back to the boat, but we weren’t prepared to see what happened next. After a quick run back towards the boat and lots of effort to keep a taught line the fish just stops and slowly makes an almost 360-degree tour around the boat (in the shallows) to show himself off before he made a frantic sprint down stream making the reel sing like only a beast of a steelhead can. Just like that, Waylin boats another beauty. Hi-fives all around and another shot of whiskey and an 1/8 of a steelhead landed for me. 

Next up is my great friend and the best Montana fly-fishing guide I know, Chris Orwig. He shows up fashionably late on the river in his new drifty and I immediately hop in. It’s been too long since I have seen him and his girl, but the catching up is short and sweet. Doubling the size of our group we head down river to the next “money run.” Now with two boats and six people, we can really start working the runs. Big in presence and in drifts, Chris hooks up directly in front of the other boat about 100 yards down river.  Good luck charm again, as my boat lands another majestic native steely — and I claim another fraction of a fish.

We may not have stuck anymore fish for the rest of the three day trip, but my love for the sport only grew the more time I was on the water, regardless of the impending eight hour drive home and thoughts of an extra long work week ahead. Count yourself fortunate to be able to get on the water (anytime) with the people you enjoy and love being with.  That is what fishing is to me. I love to catch fish, but I enjoy sharing stories, hucking line, being in the great outdoors, experiencing new territory, learning from the best and spending quality time with great friends and family just as much.  All things society dictates aside (cliche as it may be), a day spent fishing is better than anything else in the world.  That is what fishing is — to me.

Always down for a last minute steelheading adventure, I grabbed my Fetha Styx fishing rods, packed a cooler with beer and hopped in my car for a trip inland to fish the Clearwater River in Idaho with some old friends. As the hatchery fish seemed to move up river and numbers reported in the rivers down, the crew didn’t let that deter them from fishing hard and having a great time. While we didn’t boat a large number of fish, collectively we landed some beauties. Take a look and let me know what you think of the video.

A big shout out to my good friend Chris Orwig (in my opinion one the best Montana fly fishing guides) for making the trip and dropping some local and steelheading knowledge on me.  I always learn a bunch when I hit the river with this crew, and this trip was no different.

Check out some of the Fly-Fishing Rods and Steelhead gear rods I brought along with me.  Stay tuned for the next series of posts with a full write up and a new project I was inspired to do after the trip.

Thanks to EYEini for helping put the final touches on this.

Fetha Styx Blog Home

As some of you may have heard, the Pacific Northwest has seen some record-breaking heat these past two weeks, but that hasn’t stopped new Fetha Styx pro Travis Milward from getting out on the water. Here’s his weekly update…

“Fishing has definitely picked up on the Cowlitz and other local Rivers. Typically fishing half days to stay out of the extreme heat, we have been seeing 5 to 15 hookups a day drifting small bait clusters and prawns. Try focusing on water with cover or riffles where the fish have a little more security in this low water and extreme heat! And remember when running a boat to stay off of the water your fishing, fish are super spooky right now and that can be a big reason for less hook ups.”

Until Next Week,

Travis Milward

360-977-2444

travis_milward@hotmail.com

www.ultimateguideservice.com

“Photographing game fish is a challenging enterprise. Species that are pursued by anglers are generally wary and easily spooked, and reflections from the water’s surface make the use of telephoto lenses difficult.

I set out to capture an image of a rainbow trout that showed the natural traits of the fish. Stealth, camouflage, and graceful movement were qualities I wanted to show through the photograph. Clear water was a necessity, and I also wanted a cracked background made of gravel to break up the outline of the trout.

Deciding on a spring-fed stillwater in Nevada that is known for sight fishing, I set out with a plan. It’s important to know beforehand how you want to compose this type of photograph in order to avoid stressing the fish prior to the release.

Upon arrival the conditions seemed ideal: large rainbows were in the shallows, sitting in crystal clear spring water over a gravel-strewn bottom. After stalking a small pod, I made a 70-foot sight cast to a 22-inch female. The fly was a size 18 chironomid pupa. The take was extremely subtle, and when I saw the fish move slightly, I set the hook.  Initially nothing happened, the big hen just began moving steadily into deeper water. After about five seconds of steady pulling, she got serious.  I was using a 7-weight rod and a stout reel fitted with 150 yards of backing. In almost no time, despite an aggressive drag setting, the fish had burned off 125 yards of my security blanket.

Thirteen minutes later and after putting some dicey stress on my tippet, she was in the net. At 22 inches the big hen was not particularly remarkable, but she measured three full inches across the back! No wonder she had what it took to nearly line me, and without the aid of a stiff current either.

I took out my camera, lined up the shot, and then released the fish in the shallows with my left hand while looking through the viewfinder. I managed only two frames as she sped off, one of which was out of focus. The other was just what I wanted–the winning shot.”

If  you want to check out more of Brett’s work you can see his website FlytoWater or you can email him at threshershrk@gmail.com. Brett will be working with us more in the near future, so stay tuned for additional fantastic photographs and inspiring words from Brett. We’re excited–you should be too!