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Fishin' Them Purdy Steelheaded Rainbow Trouts.

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There was this faint little qwiff of spring air that passed through the Valley ohhh... sometime between ice lakers 70 to 74, and with that came the premature storage of my alder branches and wife's old earrings. Pretty well finished up with the trout harvest anyway, tapping some maple bush came top of the priority heap, and a thawing yard was gonna need itself a good few days of pooper scooperin' too.


It was round then on a south wind that a courier pigeon arrived. In its beak, the delivered note read... "Twas nice giddayin' ya in February up on the ice up in Qeebec. Saw one of your river photos on my Grandbaby's FaceSpace and wondered a touch if you'd be into goin' for some spring steelheads end of the month" Signed, Lukeberry Schoobs. Tickled pink with the notion that someone actually wanted to fish with yours truly, I was giddy when tellin' the Missus about my plans to leave the homestead fer a couple days. Spring steelheadin' was a foreign notion... but I'd the gist of it from doin' 'em in the fall a wee little. They're a purdy fish with alotta giver in 'em... barrels of fun really.


Getting on in the month it was a comin' near time for our trip. When Lukeberry finally did arrive we tied his horses to my barn and loaded his bamboo poles, silk spinning wheels, buckshots, hooks and rags into my carriage. Off we was went.


The world's gone and got itself in a big hurry and pushing the horses to keep up, when we reached the border and came to a halt, one old piston was hee hawin' and stomping kinda funny. Didn't much care for that.


But by the Grace we kept pace and mosied on to reach our destination. Many farm settlements, forested hills and wild cricks in this countryside, the fabled Salmon River was the biggest and best and said to be teemin' with the natural splendors, the Native browns and steelheaded rainbow trouts of our inland Ontario sea. Breathin' Oswego's sulphuric air and passing by more skyward double golden arches in the middle of nowheres than I can count... it was jist all Amen to that.


Lukeberry and I had ideas, but being the weekend of the resurrection of Jesus Christ so did a whole lotta other folks. Seems nobody goes to Church anymore and like us, Religion is where you find it with the nature and fishes... and maybe some too think ole J.C. would rather be found fishing for a meal after all these years asleep? So gettin' on, somewhere amongst the locust anglers our prayers were answered after taking exodus, and here I found peace and glory with my first steelhead of the year.


This here girl would do her Mother and the Lord proud!




Ain't she a thing of beauty! All washed up and pretty in pink and blue bows.




My one twitchy and one fuzzed eye could not take my Hillbilly love on up off of her. I was a happy proud noodle and she was a purdy fat hen, but rather than strip her womb or even slit her throat, I released her back to nature just like I finded her.




Well didn't she just cause a flood after that. Steelheads from all around must have heard about the shiney pearls on silk I was offering up under my balsa. One big heffer did the Two-Step on me and got herself away, but there was a few other lasses that made the dance too. Some young, some kinda dumb. Even caught the same one twice in a row cause I reckon she enjoyed her time that much. None were purdy as my first though, and a couple was used goods if ya know what I mean...? But, that didn't stop us from the Dosey-Doe one bit.








If there's one thing I love more than my wife and children, it's nature. Ohhh... and fishing, my boats, my horses, good whiskey... and fishing too. Something to be told 'bout being out there in the woods lookin' round. Reckon I enjoy myself most when free of chores, naggers and hateful yuppy neighbors. Finding things and yourself, testing yer mettle, puttin' the good foot forward, taking risks and livin' off the land, that is be the respectful path to take. Lukeberry was cut from that same cloth I figured. Watchin' him fish, learning his ways and listening to his stories, it was evidential he's a wise and honest man. Wasn't long fishing together we swapped our spit with a handshake and became blood brothers. Out there in the fields of our dreams with them steelheaded rainbow trouts, friendship and fishing was done.








On the long trail home the horses did overheat some, and next day when needing to tend to chores, I found my Silverado purdy well dead in the yard. She's 14 now with little mileage, but sadly what work I'd ask her to do over the years, in the places retarded to git'er done, was just too much for any mare I figure. Loaded her up in the wagon and took her to town. She'd been leaking coolant in her inards somewhere for 'round 5 years or more, different Docs couldn't diagnose how or why. Finally her natural oils filled up with ice tea and the two didn't mix well. She's getting a heart transplant now... but surgery is sure taking it's time.



Low and behold, later that next week another courier pigeon arrived. This time it be from ole pal, Mike Lee. Letter read, "Haven't seen ya in a coons age! Hows you bin? Figuring now that I'm settled into the new farmhouse down the trail, was wondering if you'd be interested in some fishin?" My reply, "My truck is gone. My sap is dry. There's still poop in fingernails. The ole ball and chain is naggin' me all the time. When do we leave?"


Mike and his steed Tacoma had been in a bad accident some time over the winter. Under his arse now was a fine breed from Sierra. Was happy to accept his ride. Plan was like the plan was and had been since it was... more steelheaded rainbows over yonder.


Mike hadn't been broken before by these here wild fish. A rare virgin to the purdy sea running trouts, it was up to yours truly to show him what little ways I actually had. Some tips I give all other anglers that fish with me, "do what I do and you'll be fine, don't do what I do and you'll be crying." Plain and simple eh...?


Anyways, follow them golden arches and that bitter scent of sulphur and you'll find yourself somewheres down in the home of the brave... or at least the most armed that is. That's what we does to get going along for them steelheads.


Wasn't a thing but a chicken wing to be fishing an hour and hook-up with the first lady. That sweet patriotic Presidential goodness waved her colorful flag all over the pool, leaping about and singing reel loud. Ole Mike was pleased as punch to witness me swear my allegiance so soon into the trip.


Now, if the Goddess Venus somehow had a love child with Daisy Duke, this here rainbow would belong to the two of the. Yeee-Haw-Halleluyaw!




Seeing this here display of fun and fish, Mike got a fire up under his britches and tightened them suspenders of his good. Wading into the river all leaky booted and shivered, a man possessed and ready to meet his destiny, his bamboo buckled ten-fold when the balsa slipped below. Zzzzwick!!! Fish ON!!!


Welcome Mike to the experience of steelheading. Wouldn't be the fella's last either.




Mike and me hopped some ditches, ducked some trees and kicked up dust to go lookin' round for more steelheaded rainbow trouts. They're such a purdy fish you can't help it. We found more too.




The hours spent in the chase took me back to when I was a younger lad without my whiskers yet, up with the blackflies in North Ontario on the James Bay. Every spring the searun speckled trouts would come in from the ocean. A hearty, silvery, purdy fish the mere few weeks they'd be round at ice out, you'd beg, steal and borrow any time you could get with 'em. First one I ever caught was the biggest I ever caught. Second one I ever caught took the longest to ever caught. Spring steeheaded troutin' in many ways feels like those days of old with the searuns. It's a blessing to be had really... all of it in this life.


















Certainly weren't the biggest speckles those ones from those days, but not everything in the world is measured by a yard stick, a foot, or your Willy.

Up on the River we put on the miles me and Mike. Backpacks heavy with bread, water, dried meats and treats, the bush got whacked. Purdy country to spend time in, lots of life in the forests and streams.














Precious moments fishing like anything else, near their end eventually. This time away with Mike was purdy well spent. We'd beat the banks and both worn our waders into a no-good, leaky state. Mike's tired hands and eyes, and my own shotty knee and elbow, we dropped back slow on the river towards our wagon, fishing the now familiar pools as we walked. And as it should be in any ole fishing story, the biggest and best fish gets saved for last. Was my turn this time, hopefully Ole Mike keeps up with his steelheading and makes it his turn next. Watching what I reckoned to be the perfect drift, was. For when the balsa rolled gently into the froth behind a rock in the current, time stood still just long enough to set the hook into another memory.







Tightlines Ya'll.

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Your report is killing me! I loved it for the anticipation of getting a few steelhead up north, but the rivers are still frozen and the slow melt is killing me. As usual, I realy like the photography. Keep the reports coming...I enjoy the frustration. Ha,ha.

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Nice fish and waters Drew. As for the report,well,,,,,,,,,, :good: as always.


I got five days off coming very soon. I hope this rain and so called snow storm,dosent blow the rivers.

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Look at that baby face. I thought we where going back in time for a second there. Nice fish.



Haha! Clearasil after a thorough degreasing and exfoliant. Lots of scotch and fish. Turning 72 next month, still just a lad.


Thanks mang!



Gay! :whistling:



Happy singing emoticon Admin guy, you esplain youself you!!! You want to ride my bicycle?






Your report is killing me! I loved it for the anticipation of getting a few steelhead up north, but the rivers are still frozen and the slow melt is killing me. As usual, I realy like the photography. Keep the reports coming...I enjoy the frustration. Ha,ha.



Al. Your winter won't be ending. Better widdle yourself some some willow stick and punch some holes my friend. Just heard from Jack Frost that your snow will end in May... 2014. Ice bows and specks it is for you fella.



Nice fish and waters Drew. As for the report,well,,,,,,,,,, :good: as always.


I got five days off coming very soon. I hope this rain and so called snow storm,dosent blow the rivers.



You'll slay 'em bud. Don't let icepelletfreezingrainsnowmeggeddon stand in your way. You're a newfie and should be at your best in that kind of crap. lol.



Sweet Drew. You live a charmed life my friend ;)



Works for me Joey. lol.

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That belt rod holder looks pretty nifty. I wonder how that would work with a 13ft float rod??



Jet, it is pretty "nifty" actually. Initially bought it in 2000 because they're great for float-tube fishing. Beats losing the rod overboard. Is just as convenient for trib fishing. Doesn't matter where you are in the water you have two free hands for anything you need to do, without setting the rod down or having to hold on to it. That is a 13ft float rod in the holder for all the new pics. It obviously works well as a wader belt too.





Tyler... good luck this season up north and guiding bud!

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although i disagree with lifting fish by their gill plates, i will say nice fish, and a great outting



Thanks dood.


And although I don't really, there are some whom likely agree with your sentiment too...

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