SteelheadBee
Steelhead
It's been a few years (she is now 18 and successfully completing her first year at the university), but it's a story worth recalling and sharing to those that have an ear.
In 2019, my oldest daughter, Emma, was 15yrs old. Every summer, my family would join me camping at a storied river that some have called "the graduate school of steelheading". This particular drainage is known for its beauty and its difficulty wading. If the steep gravel goat trails didn't claim a fall, well, the slick river bedrock would try to baptize unsuspecting anglers. So my daughters always just enjoyed the relative safety of camping and hiking while I tried my hand at steelheading.
That summer of '19 I had planned to go on a solo river camp and hang out with some steelhead pals (my wife & daughters were still recovering from a summer holiday trip). Emma asked me, "Are you going to camp, Dad?". Excitedly, I answered, "I sure am...gonna hang out with the boys and fish all day". She said, "I wanna go." Ummm...not expecting that response from her. I mentioned that this was steelhead camp: I was going to be fishing, not playing cards in a camp chair. More so, steelheading on this river is difficult: requiring physical and mental resolve (as opposed to troutfishing which she is familiar with). "Emma, this river humbles even the best steelheaders I know". Emma optimistically says, "I wanna experience steelheading with you, Dad". How could I say "no"?
So we planned a 3 day camp. I made sure to bring good food (thinking I needed to likely appease her disappointment from steelhead skunkings). Comfortable clothing was packed along with a healthy dose of excitement...my mindset had changed: I get to play "guide" to my daughter!
Soon after pitching camp in the late afternoon, we jaunt over to the river for a safety course and an angler was there twitching a dryfly over a tailout. I explain the techniques to my daughter as a primer for steelheading the next morning. Emma says, "Why can't we fish now?" Ha! That kid is always surprising me. It was around 7:30pm, I told her to wader up and make sure she grabbed her headlamp. There was a reasonably safe wading pool a short drive from camp.
After tying on Hirano's Little Wang Skater to the tippet, she approaches the top of the riffle - her dad within arms reach away. Being very green at the 2-handed game, I coach her until she gets some reasonable casts out. We probably have about an hour before the sun sets.
As dads are apt to do, I tell stories in between casts. She and I are enjoying the moment. The foam waker is now difficult to spot in the long evening shadows. No matter, I know it's on top and Emma is grooving with her casts. I'm imagining camp dinner and about the time I think it's time to reel in...
"DAD! I got a fish!" Her rod is slightly bent and I'm thinking "trout". This would be good practice for her, "Let the fish take line, Emma, and swing your rod to the bank".
"zzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!", The old reel screams and the rod tacos over.
Well, it was trout all right...the big ocean variety.
That fish gave her all she could ask for. Never had she fought a fish that size. Taxed from 3 long line-ripping runs, at one point she begged me to take over. I refused and cheered her on.
It was dark by the time we got it in close. My eyes grew big when its shoulders broke water. In my head I told myself to stay calm...don't screw it up for Emma. I tailed the buck...or attempted to - but it went berserk and slipped out of my grasp. "No, DAD! Don't lose it!" The fish swam out 25ft away. I told Emma, "We got him. Just reel steady and don't give any line". This next time, I made sure her first steelhead wouldn't get away.
It was surreal. Is this a dream? Did a kid just land her first steelhead on a dry fly? On one of the most majestic and difficult steelhead streams in the world?
She slept like a baby that night while I lay in the cot wide awake with the excitement of the evening's success.
Morning came soon with Emma waking her dad up, "Let's go, Dad". Dang, I overslept. A quick breakfast and we were back in our waders.
Emma put in the effort that second day - just like a true steelheader. She slid down trails, hung on to root wads and swung from branches, kept searching for steelhead lies. She rose a fish on a GreaseLiner in the late morning which missed the hook point : an encounter that could have been a steelhead. In the afternoon she rose a tailout steelhead on a Steelhead Caddis but it didn't connect either. She kept her composure and excitement that whole day without any complaints. What a great fishing partner.
My heart was full. We could cash out. I asked her "We could pack up camp and go home if you'd like. You got to experience steelheading at its finest! What do you think?". Without hesitation, she says "Camp tonight and let's fish tomorrow morning, Dad". Happy dad moment for sure.
If you click the image below, it's a video of her cach-handed single spey:
The final morning I decide to fish her close to camp. The sun was glorious as it stretched over the treeline. She asked me if I had ever taken a steelhead at this particular pool. I admitted, "No. But really good anglers have raised steelhead here."
Emma tied on my friend Todd's: BiVisi-Wang on her tippet that morning.
I'm watching her fly about 1/3 of the way down the riffle swing to the soft inside seam. She was twitching the fly gently as I instructed her. Emma was also making surface attack noises with her mouth trying to invite a steelhead rise (strange behaviour that I find myself doing when fishing alone).
And there it was! A spray of water right on the inside flow. I yelp "Whoa!". She sees the splash, yelling "Was that on my fly?". There is that hesitation before the fish tightens to the reel...and then zzzzzzZZZZZZZ! A beautiful bright doe is cartwheeling downstream. She is connected onto the fish.
We probably woke the whole campground with our hootin' and hollerin' but joy is uncontainable.
What a memory that trip was! The young steelheader was the envy of steelhead camp. She earned her badge at one of the most iconic steelhead rivers in the world...and all on a dryfly. The fellows were so gracious to her.
Before we said farewell, a visit to the famed "Riverkeeper" was in order. He asked if we were enjoying the river and Emma told him she landed her first 2 steelhead and on dry flies. The "Keeper" was so impressed that he chased us up to our vehicle just so he could shake Emma's hand. He mentioned that it took him many years before he landed his first steelhead on this river.
She's become part of the many stories that this legendary river holds.
At 5 years old she caught her first fish, a brook trout on an Elk Hair Caddis.
In 2019, my oldest daughter, Emma, was 15yrs old. Every summer, my family would join me camping at a storied river that some have called "the graduate school of steelheading". This particular drainage is known for its beauty and its difficulty wading. If the steep gravel goat trails didn't claim a fall, well, the slick river bedrock would try to baptize unsuspecting anglers. So my daughters always just enjoyed the relative safety of camping and hiking while I tried my hand at steelheading.
That summer of '19 I had planned to go on a solo river camp and hang out with some steelhead pals (my wife & daughters were still recovering from a summer holiday trip). Emma asked me, "Are you going to camp, Dad?". Excitedly, I answered, "I sure am...gonna hang out with the boys and fish all day". She said, "I wanna go." Ummm...not expecting that response from her. I mentioned that this was steelhead camp: I was going to be fishing, not playing cards in a camp chair. More so, steelheading on this river is difficult: requiring physical and mental resolve (as opposed to troutfishing which she is familiar with). "Emma, this river humbles even the best steelheaders I know". Emma optimistically says, "I wanna experience steelheading with you, Dad". How could I say "no"?
So we planned a 3 day camp. I made sure to bring good food (thinking I needed to likely appease her disappointment from steelhead skunkings). Comfortable clothing was packed along with a healthy dose of excitement...my mindset had changed: I get to play "guide" to my daughter!
Soon after pitching camp in the late afternoon, we jaunt over to the river for a safety course and an angler was there twitching a dryfly over a tailout. I explain the techniques to my daughter as a primer for steelheading the next morning. Emma says, "Why can't we fish now?" Ha! That kid is always surprising me. It was around 7:30pm, I told her to wader up and make sure she grabbed her headlamp. There was a reasonably safe wading pool a short drive from camp.
After tying on Hirano's Little Wang Skater to the tippet, she approaches the top of the riffle - her dad within arms reach away. Being very green at the 2-handed game, I coach her until she gets some reasonable casts out. We probably have about an hour before the sun sets.
As dads are apt to do, I tell stories in between casts. She and I are enjoying the moment. The foam waker is now difficult to spot in the long evening shadows. No matter, I know it's on top and Emma is grooving with her casts. I'm imagining camp dinner and about the time I think it's time to reel in...
"DAD! I got a fish!" Her rod is slightly bent and I'm thinking "trout". This would be good practice for her, "Let the fish take line, Emma, and swing your rod to the bank".
"zzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!", The old reel screams and the rod tacos over.
Well, it was trout all right...the big ocean variety.
That fish gave her all she could ask for. Never had she fought a fish that size. Taxed from 3 long line-ripping runs, at one point she begged me to take over. I refused and cheered her on.
It was dark by the time we got it in close. My eyes grew big when its shoulders broke water. In my head I told myself to stay calm...don't screw it up for Emma. I tailed the buck...or attempted to - but it went berserk and slipped out of my grasp. "No, DAD! Don't lose it!" The fish swam out 25ft away. I told Emma, "We got him. Just reel steady and don't give any line". This next time, I made sure her first steelhead wouldn't get away.
It was surreal. Is this a dream? Did a kid just land her first steelhead on a dry fly? On one of the most majestic and difficult steelhead streams in the world?
She slept like a baby that night while I lay in the cot wide awake with the excitement of the evening's success.
Morning came soon with Emma waking her dad up, "Let's go, Dad". Dang, I overslept. A quick breakfast and we were back in our waders.
Emma put in the effort that second day - just like a true steelheader. She slid down trails, hung on to root wads and swung from branches, kept searching for steelhead lies. She rose a fish on a GreaseLiner in the late morning which missed the hook point : an encounter that could have been a steelhead. In the afternoon she rose a tailout steelhead on a Steelhead Caddis but it didn't connect either. She kept her composure and excitement that whole day without any complaints. What a great fishing partner.
My heart was full. We could cash out. I asked her "We could pack up camp and go home if you'd like. You got to experience steelheading at its finest! What do you think?". Without hesitation, she says "Camp tonight and let's fish tomorrow morning, Dad". Happy dad moment for sure.
If you click the image below, it's a video of her cach-handed single spey:
The final morning I decide to fish her close to camp. The sun was glorious as it stretched over the treeline. She asked me if I had ever taken a steelhead at this particular pool. I admitted, "No. But really good anglers have raised steelhead here."
Emma tied on my friend Todd's: BiVisi-Wang on her tippet that morning.
I'm watching her fly about 1/3 of the way down the riffle swing to the soft inside seam. She was twitching the fly gently as I instructed her. Emma was also making surface attack noises with her mouth trying to invite a steelhead rise (strange behaviour that I find myself doing when fishing alone).
And there it was! A spray of water right on the inside flow. I yelp "Whoa!". She sees the splash, yelling "Was that on my fly?". There is that hesitation before the fish tightens to the reel...and then zzzzzzZZZZZZZ! A beautiful bright doe is cartwheeling downstream. She is connected onto the fish.
We probably woke the whole campground with our hootin' and hollerin' but joy is uncontainable.
What a memory that trip was! The young steelheader was the envy of steelhead camp. She earned her badge at one of the most iconic steelhead rivers in the world...and all on a dryfly. The fellows were so gracious to her.
Before we said farewell, a visit to the famed "Riverkeeper" was in order. He asked if we were enjoying the river and Emma told him she landed her first 2 steelhead and on dry flies. The "Keeper" was so impressed that he chased us up to our vehicle just so he could shake Emma's hand. He mentioned that it took him many years before he landed his first steelhead on this river.
She's become part of the many stories that this legendary river holds.
At 5 years old she caught her first fish, a brook trout on an Elk Hair Caddis.
Last edited:
