As I sit down to write this article, inspired by the chrome football of a summer steelhead that I was blessed to catch today. I’m reminded by the beautiful mountain landscape photo background on my laptop. The two things that inspire me most in this world are mountaineering and steelhead fishing.
Andrew Schnell holding the fish after finally landed him. Photo taken with my phone by Will Lee
In my experience, a great day steelheading should contain key elements from any good mountaineering adventure. Beautiful mountain landscapes, challenging terrain, unpredictable harsh cold weather, many miles hiked, a remote location, good preparation, an early start, some true adventure and seeing zero other people on the river all day. This winter day had them all.
Matt Bolesta, Will Lee and I started the morning driving through the misty mountains of the Pacific Northwest early as can be. Matt was in his construction work vehicle and I was in my fishing hotel on wheels with Will in the passenger seat. After some time driving up remote mountain logging roads we realized our path was blocked by an active logging operation that had just begun. We had some trouble with our CB radio so Matt managed to get an exasperated tower operator to give us a verbal “PASS!” after a significant amount of honking and yelling. I was impressed... I rolled forward through the operation trusting that the tower operator had radioed any outbound log trucks that we were driving through. Turns out, it may have been the radio in the tower that had the problems. In a very close call, Will and I narrowly avoided a head on with a fully loaded outbound log truck. After apologies and explanations all around, we were on our way again.
After parking we hiked down the mountainside to the river and made our way upstream. We fished our way upriver until the canyon was too narrow to continue and started fishing our way downstream in extremely muddy, cold, and joyously rugged bushwhack that has come to represent my favorite fishery by far. Will’s machete came in handy in several spots, as did my hand saw. After covering a fair amount of water I finally hooked our first steelhead of the day, a scrappy mid-sized buck on the darker side. After running me down a rapid and a couple minutes of a good fight, the buck spit the hook in a series of spectacular aerial acrobatics that left me grinning ear to ear. I couldn’t even be mad it came off, the fight was just that good.
Matt (right) and the author chasing down Matt’s giant trophy buck before the fish eventually broke the 20lb leader. Will Lee photo
From there, I tried to let Matt and Will have first water for a bit while I watched them fish, as was only fair. We came to a corner that I have known to be excellent. I instructed Matt and Will to sneak downriver and cast upstream into the tailout of said juicy corner. Second cast, I watched Matt set the hook into a slab of a chrome steelhead hen that must have been 15 or 16 pounds and fought like she was “on fire.” “Hell yeah!” I yelled from upstream as she ripped Matt downstream about 50 yards in heavy current dodging boulders and using the current to her full advantage. Eventually she ended up shaking the hook, which was a bummer for us all. Such is the life of bead fishing for steelhead though. You lose a fair amount of them.
Will and I started working our way slowly downstream while Matt continued pounding the same corner hoping for another fish. We had just rounded the next bend when we heard “FISH! FISH!” over our CB radios that we carried with us in case of an emergency and to communicate better over the roaring river. Hurrying back upstream, Matt yelled down at us that this fish was “HUGE.” Upon our arrival we realized he was right. It was the size of a small dolphin. To this day I have never seen a bigger wild steelhead buck on the end of anyone’s line. At one point, it was about 4- to 5-feet away from me hiding behind a rock, just a bit too far away for me to net. I saw 4- to 5-inches of tail sticking vertically out of the water, but the adipose fin wasn’t even out yet. I estimated the fish had a rudder 12- to 13-inches tall. And after seeing the fish breach the surface several times, we all agreed the fish was likely in the 22- to 25-pound range. A gigantic fish even for this river. Although I do know of at least one angler who has landed a 25-pounder on this river.
The author chasing down Matt’s giant trophy buck before he eventually broke the 20lb leader. Will Lee photo
After the fish realized I was close by and feeling that Matt was trying to lift his head, it bolted back into the current and proceeded to run Matt down 4 sets of rapids faster than you could say “seeya”, snapping Matt’s 20-pound leader like dental floss as it sailed downriver at mach-looney. Matt was understandably devastated, but rallied after a few minutes like the determined and tenacious angler I know him to be. I am determined we’ll get redemption for him next season.
Losing a behemoth on a day with so much effort invested can be extremely depressing. I would know having lost 18 or 19 trophy-class winter steelhead before I finally touched one. To date I’ve been blessed to have landed 6 or 7 of that caliber. And each of them feels all the more special because of it. Matt’s fish was the 6th or 7th trophy-class steelhead he had lost that season alone. And certainly was the largest. I told him, “You will only have to lose 11 more like that before you land one. If you have the same luck as me anyway.” I joked with him. He did not find much humor in my statement. Frankly, it’s a miracle he puts up with me in the first place.
The author fighting his fish. Will Lee photo
We kept fishing for hours, getting soaked by rain and sleet while it was a balmy 33 degrees out. It was getting late when I finally hooked into my second steelhead of the day. It was holding in a juicy tailout in front of some small boulders. My bobber went down slowly like a snag and I knew there were no snags there. So I set the hook. I didn’t know it then, but this fish would be the second largest steelhead I’d ever landed. A chrome trophy-class buck with gorgeous red just coming in on his cheeks. An insane fight ensued. A 35 minute rodeo that had me absolutely gripped the entire time. For about 18 minutes I got the fish to stay in the same pool by being calm and taking it easy. When you put your rod tip in the water, steelhead will often calm down and swim over to you if you don’t put much pressure on them. Every time the fish got close to the bank and Matt moved close to him the fish would feel Matt’s footsteps and dart back out into the current. Getting tired of our sly antics he finally turned downstream, using his girth and the current to his advantage. Even my 20-pound leader, 40-pound mono bumper, and 65-pound braid attached to my Lamiglas SI106MHS 10- 20-pound rated rod was no match for this fish. Not even close.
The immediate problem now was a cliff that we couldn’t wade past. Realizing this, and before I could say anything, Matt was scrambling over the obstruction so he could get downstream of me and follow the fish. As I stood there with my drag screaming louder than a terrified 5 year old in a haunted house. In a desperate attempt to keep the fish from completely spooling me. I cranked down the drag on my Vanford 4000 XG as much as I dared. I watched steam rise from my reel as it started heating up. Meanwhile I hear Matt on the radio say, “You’re wrapped around everything!” Realizing I was running out of line and that this fish would soon be testing my backing knot. The fish wasn’t coming back at this point. I was down to my last 10 yards of line out of the 130 yards of braid my Vanford reel holds and convinced I was about to lose this fish. When suddenly I hear Will radio me saying, “I’ve got your line, throw your rod and I’ll hand line it to myself!” In an absolute home move, Will had waded way out into the river below the cliff to grab my line and bring it back to shore. I didn’t think twice. Immediately I radioed back “Throwing now!” and proceeded to outright huck my most expensive spinning rod downriver at a 45-degree angle like an Olympic javelin thrower. Before it even hit the water I was scrambling over the cliff to get over to Will. I scrambled over the cliff and he handed me my rod so we could sprint downriver after this fish.
Matt with the perfect scoop of my fish after the 35 minute fight.
Mind you, at this point the fish is over 300 feet downstream of me. Matt, as the absolute gangster he is, had managed to unwrap my line from all but two snags. I was able to take care of those last two on my way down to Matt, finding the fish sitting in a pool three long rapids below the cliff we had just scrambled past. As I vigorously reeled while running downstream, my mind raced through all the possibilities. Was the fish still on the end of my line I thought to myself? Finally I watched my line pull tight and there he was... I felt the resistance. Real, living, resistance. Then a huge head shake, followed by a slight adjustment of his position in the current. It was at this moment I couldn’t have be happier I had him pinned on a worm. If I had been fishing beads I would’ve been doomed. Matt and Will jokingly call me “worm king.” Worms are my absolute favorite way to catch steelhead, especially big wild bucks. Matt hooks more fish than I do on his beads, but he also loses more fish because of it.
In any case the fish was still pinned and I felt confident. The battle was back on and I wasn’t going to let him get the better of me. After another 10 minutes trying to coax this big buck out of the heavy current, I was able to pull him close enough to the bank for Matt to make the scoop of all scoops with my knotless rubberized net. This fish was far too big for the net, so the fact that Matt had gotten the fish into it at all with zero margin for error was beyond impressive. With the steep banks of the canyon walls and heavy flow that day, tailing this fish was not an option without risking breaking him off or one of us falling in and possibly drowning when our waders filled up. Both outcomes I deemed unacceptable for many reasons.
The author holding his fish right after being netted. Will Lee photo
As I kneeled in the river with this fish, an overwhelming sense of disbelief and gratitude came over me. Time came to a standstill as I had a moment with that fish, both of us resting from the long fight. Gazing over him, I knew I had no right whatsoever to have landed this amazing steelhead. I truly knew that. Due to the incredible effort and teamwork from my friends who went above and beyond that day was I able to land that fish. Matt and Will, I am in your debt. Thank you both. I will never forget your efforts.
We didn’t even put a tape on him, we just kept him in the water so he could breathe and took a few photos before we let him swim off. Long, stocky, mean, and chrome. With a huge head and a tail so thick I could barely get my hand around it. Fish like that are what steelhead dreams are made out of. The most perfect trophy steelhead buck I’ve ever held in my own two hands.
We watched him swim majestically back into the current and disappear. Standing up, I realized my waders had about 4 gallons of freezing water in each leg due to all the holes they have and not a single part of me was dry. The hike out felt like I was wearing a trash can full of water on each leg. I was shivering uncontrollably, but undoubtedly still the happiest man alive.
The author holding his trophy steelhead just prior to relasing the behemoth unharmed. Will Lee photo
For those of us who choose to pursue these fish the highs are high and the lows are low. But I’m in love with this seemingly bipolar obsession with the anadromous rainbow trout. The Steelhead. Greatest and most elusive of the anadromous fish.
Over the years wild Steelhead have inspired me to want to give back. I now volunteer with ODFW, WDFW and various nonprofits and volunteer organizations to help with spawning surveys and rearing habitat monitoring for these special fish. I hope to one day say I’ve given back more to our rivers than I’ve taken away from them. And I would encourage anyone who has the time or the resources to give back to our fisheries however they can. I’ve found it extremely rewarding and I hope you do too.
Tight lines everyone, and long live the metalheads.
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