Once in a while, a fish just leaves you shaking and craving more....that's why we fish, right? It happened to me yesterday on the Wilson.
After a couple of frisky natives, I was feeling pretty content. I was float fishing one of the many series of pools in the upper river, where you take your life into your own hands sliding down the steep, gravelly/muddy "path" to the river and then have a nice stretch to yourself. I was thinking about the nice leaps the two fish had made while I backreeled a jig slowly through the throat of the pool, along a ledge and toward the tail. The sun was in the west, which is the direction of the river at that point and I was mesmerized by the glistening of the backlit silvery rays on the water. I remember the placidness and serenity I felt when BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.....A steelhead hit my jig 100 feet away going full tilt the other direction! Even though I was watching my float, I didn't see it go under, I just found myself suddenly holding on to the rod with everything I had, momentarily stunned by what had happened! God, that fish killed that jig! I've never had a hit that hard on hardware or flies, much less float fishing. Braided line transmitted every bit of that fish's fury to my hands instantly! The fish took me into the tail, then rolled/twisted violently and then ran upstream and leaped 5 feet out of the water. Another 5 minutes of tug-of-war, and the bright 10 pound native buck was in my hands. If every hit was like the one I had yesterday, I'd need a pacemaker. I'll be craving a similar smash every second I fish for the rest of my life.
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If every fisherman would pick up one piece of trash, we'd have cleaner rivers and more access.
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