No fish hooked the other day from a new/old spot, but it was an amazing, almost surreal experience just being there. Surreal, because I never thought I'd get to fish it again. So apologies for over-sharing, but this was a very special place to me. A place where I have filled tags, but far more importantly, have so many great memories with my Dad, and best buddy from HS. Both are no longer with us, and both are sorely missed.
In the 70's through early 90's, this was a relatively isolated spot with only a small cabin at the end of a gravel road. I had spoken with the owners a few times. Nice people who allowed respectful fishermen access via a short trail to the side of the cabin. They didn't live there full time, and realized people who appreciated the access were a way of keeping eyes on the property.
I caught quite a few winter fish here, mostly on gear. Wearing Seal-Dri latex waders, fishing an Abu Garcia baitcaster on a Fenwick HMG drift rod. Plenty of good times here doing that, but as a fall salmon and steelhead spot it was nothing short of incredible.
What made it special was a three-tiered, fish-ladder like series of pocket water "steps", dropping into a narrow chute at the pool. The main current plume slams into a rock wall, curving sharply to the left, creating the deep pool with a large back eddy. In high water, the powerful eddy still curls back to the head of the pool, carving the freestone base of the chute into a sharp drop-off. The chute transitioning from a very drift-able 2-3' at ideal flows, before shooting over the lip into 6-8' in the pool. The water was pretty high this day, so hard to tell what the chute portion looks like, or if the fish ladder "steps" are still there, but pretty much as I remember in high flows.
In the fall, chinook especially, would ease up to the drop-off, holding just under the current plume. Bouncing eggs, or drifting flies, over the lip was at times, ridiculously effective. Steelhead and coho also hid under the plume, but they were better targeted on fly gear in the fish ladder "steps" .
I remember one rainy September day circa 1980, when my Dad, BF Tom, and I each tagged a limit of hatchery salmon and steelhead. All in the space of a couple hours. We each had a pair of coho, a couple jacks, and I had just tagged out with my 2nd steelhead. Tom had his 2 coho, 2 steelhead, and a fierce competitive streak (being 19 didn't help). Loved him like a brother but he could be a little intense at times (and maybe why we were so tight).
Anyway, he kept fishing, caught a 3rd steelhead, and bonked it thinking he could put it on Dad's tag. Somehow in all this action missing Dad quietly tagging his 2nd steelhead a few minutes earlier. So much for being responsible anglers, but we high-tailed it out once he realized the goof.
I made it back once or twice in the early 90's, but it was clear development was in the works by then. After that, life got complicated and development took over on that stretch of river. I thought about trying to get back in the early 2000's, but the word was it was now full of expensive homes, with less than welcoming home owners. Not that it really mattered. By then, fishing was, and still is a pale shadow of the 80's. I was also learning to enjoy the challenge of catching fish in less obvious places.
The mind-blowing, totally unexpected part, is how I was able to get back this week for the first time in over 30 years. Of all things, it was thanks to my Mother in Law, who recently moved in with us. She is a very sweet lady and keeps pretty much to herself, so not the nightmare most would associate with that living situation.
As a mostly retired piano teacher who recently stopped driving, we took her to a lesson with her last remaining student. A retired gentleman and long time friend. I had heard that he lived on this local river, but assumed it was in town. When she told me the address, I could not believe it. Turns out he is the nephew of the original cabin owners (now deceased) and is living in a cabin that he build himself next door! I didn't hesitate when he said I was welcome to bring a rod.
I could hardly believe the view out his back door!
Or just upstream...
And still looks very much the same downstream...
I fished for little over an hour, with not so much as a tug, but wasn't really expecting one. Just being there is what mattered. Was almost spooky, felt like I could turn around and see Dad and Tom, standing there like 35 years ago was yesterday.
. 
