John Gierach once wrote “The solution to any problem — work, love, money, whatever — is to go fishing, and the worse the problem, the longer the trip should be.”. Hardly have truer words ever been put to paper. Over the past couple of weeks, I have had a series of misfortunes that include a broken heart, a broken car, and a broke bank account. First thing that came to mind in the midst of all that? Go fishing.
Normally, back home anyway, a heal the soul fishing trip would involve picking up Shane, fishing one of our favorite spots, then a long evening spent sipping fine beer with our feet up on the railing of the upper deck at his house. When the girlfriend unexpectedly broke things off, I just about packed up and headed back to Bozeman for a few days, but knew my odds of coming back were rather slim.
So as the dust settled, I turned my attention to other, closer waters: the Olympic Peninsula and the wealth of water it holds. I just needed to get out of town, away from it all for a few days. Fortunately, my first available block of time coincided with reasonably good water conditions. We had just had a big rain event, and the rivers were on the drop.
For a week beforehand I tied flies. Being from Montana, all my flies are geared toward trout. Steelhead flies are a whole new game… But after some trial and error and some encouragement from the guys at the shop that I was on the right track, I managed to fill a box up pretty quickly. One thing I do really like about them is they’re big. And bright. And don’t have to be “perfect”. Right up my alley.
3:00am rolls around pretty quickly on fishing trip days. Armed with a good map, a strong cup of coffee, and a list of spots to hit, I headed out to new country. There is something really comforting about being on the road on the way to the river. You feel both rushed and at ease, savoring the anticipation of being able to step into the water for the first time and hoping you’ll get there early enough to be the first one there.
First on my list was a spot on the Queets that Justin said I had to be there super early or it would be full of people. I rolled in 90 minutes later than I wanted to be there to an empty parking lot. The trip was off to a good start. A light snow was falling as I geared up and tried to figure out exactly where I was on the map. Always a good idea.
Walking down to the river and taking that first step into the water is one of my favorite parts of any fishing trip. You don’t know what kind of day it’s going to be yet; the possibilities abound. When you take that first step and can feel the cold water rushing around the legs of your waders, then you can really start to relax. You’re fishing now, everything will be ok.
Exploring new water is always exciting. I wandered up and down and around and walked for miles along the bank. Eventually I ended up in a nice, deep, slow run. A couple of boats floated by and I could hear the occupants remark to each other what a good piece of water it was, so I figured I was in the right place. Then I got into the hypnotic rhythm of cast, mend, swing, step. Cast, mend, swing, step. Cast, mend, swing, step. Over and over and over.
It’s amazing how relaxing and calming that is. No other hassles, worries, or bothers, just the simple act of trying to catch a fish. Standing hip deep in cold water with a spey rod in hand and no one else in sight is good for the soul.
A couple hours in, near the end of a swing, I felt my line tighten, then a sharp tug. Oh my God. I set the hook and felt the headshake and just about jumped out of my waders I was so excited. It had to be a steelhead! But then it jumped, and I realized it was much too small… Bringing it in, I was both disappointed and immensely pleased to find a bull trout on the end of the line. Back home, Shane and I had talked quite a bit about making a trip for bullies, but never went through with it. Here in my hand was a fish I had wanted to catch for years. Can’t go wrong with that.
The rest of the day quickly faded away into the steelhead shuffle, until I figured it was time to go set up camp. There is a national park campground on the beach pretty much equidistant between the Queets and the Hoh, so I figured it was perfect. I was able to procure the last ocean view campsite left, set up my tent, and promptly passed out inside.
One word of advice for those seeking to tent camp on the OP. Make sure your “waterproof” tent is actually waterproof. It’s not much fun when you have to wring your pillow out in the morning. But waking up to the crashing surf and watching the waves crash while eating breakfast made it all well and good.
Next up was the Hoh. Fabled water that I’ve read about for years. Finding an empty pulloff was a bit of a chore, but walking across the giant gravel bars, looking around and not seeing a soul was worth the drive. The scale of things up there really struck me.. I’m used to rivers and gravel bars that really aren’t too huge. It seemed I was walking across the river bed for half a mile until I got to the river. I would love to see that thing when it’s really rolling at high water..
The Hoh is a beautiful river. Blue tinted water rolling over brightly colored river rocks, snowy peaks trying to make their break through the clouds.. It was stunning. Same routine, found a good run; cast, mend, swing, step. Repeat. The couple of rocks and tree branches I snagged gave me enough of an adrenaline boost to keep me going. For the first few seconds, it feels like it really might be a fish…
If Bigfoot is out there, he would live in a place like this. I could definitely see him just striding out from a stand of trees and walking across the gravel bar on the way to God knows where. You get kind of an eerie feeling, being up there all alone.
Eventually the day wore on, and I packed up to move spots. Driving down the road, my check engine light popped on. Not exactly what you want to see when you have just dumped every last penny you had into the damn thing. What followed was reminiscent of John Cleese in the classic British show “Fawlty Towers”. If you’ve seen it you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you haven’t seen it, it’s worth your time.
So the trip was cut short on the assumption that if I was going to have car trouble I would rather have it on the road home and in daylight than out in the boonies in the dark. There is always next time. The rivers will be there.
Driving back from the trip, I felt refreshed. Like my soul had been renewed. Sure, I didn’t catch any steelhead. But that’s not what this trip was really about. It was about letting go, about finding that peace of mind again. Women and heartbreak go hand in hand, and sometimes when you take that risk you get your ass handed to you. But all wounds heal, and eventually it’ll be worth the pain and hassle and drama and bullshit dating brings. There may be many more fishing trips like this one before then, but when it comes it’ll all be worth it.
I think I found what I was looking for this weekend.
Also, as a side note.. This was the first chance I had to test out a Sage Method 12’ 6” 7-weight spey rod and Evoke reel we have been sent for evaluation. More testing is required before I can write a full and honest review, but I will say this: Wow. Stay tuned for more coming soon.
