Steelhead Fever
By Tim Loomis
The days are shorter. The air is crisp. The maple leaves at the end of the street are the color of a rich red wine. This can only mean one thing...it's steelheadin' time. A week from today I'll be shaking with anticipation of my yearly trip to the Trinity Alps in search of Northern California Steelhead.
The calendar says I am 56 years old but two things can make me feel like a kid again. One is steelhead fishing and the other one is none of your business. The excitement of having ten pounds of coiled steel smack your fly is beyond my ability to express in this column. Coming along on this year's trip, looking to land his first ever chromer, is Sam Bishop. Now, Sam has been all over the world flyfishing, but he's never tried his hand at steelheading. He's excited, I imagine as any normal person gets prior to a big trip, but it's not the level of excitement (nay, obsession) that he will have the next time he goes. This, of course depends on his ability to land a steelie on this trip. If you have been bitten by the steelhead bug then you can blame me for attempting to turn Sam into a certified junkie. Sam's wife, out of sheer anger, may end up hiring a hit man to track me down and break my wrists. Is it worth it to have this early winter obsession? This trip up into mountains where the temperatures drop down into the teens and your toes and fingers feel like tree stumps?
To find out the answer ask Sam Bishop how he did at the December meeting. If Sam's eyes grow big as saucers and his veins start to bulge...you have your answer!
Fish On