C
ChezJfrey
0
Given the recent criticisms, I will elaborate.
After gridding out the stretch of river with a bobber and nightmare jig. I switched to a spoon. Here's the full setup:
2/5 oz. Cleo in chrome/blue with the treble replaced with a sturdy 1/0 siwash, slightly twisted with pliers to offset at the hook bend. I fanned out casts, starting about 15 ft. out, adding a few feet to each cast, all the way to the far likely water. Then I moved down about 30 feet, to a new spot. I was standing about a foot from the water's edge, and aimed my first casts close in, covering the area near me and just below me on the swing. After that, I aimed for the further reaches. My first cast past mid-river was targeted at a 62 degree angle upstream (I know, I know...don't tell Bill Herzog). I tilted my rod back, and snapped my wrist, stopping at about 60 degrees and releasing the line from my right fore-finger, letting the rod-load, fling the spoon out 39', 8.17"" (measured with a laser rule).
I closed the bail, and almost immediately the line stopped moving in the water. Rule #1: If your line stops moving, set the hook immediately! But here's my dilemma...I hadn't yet reeled up the slack line from the cast. I thought of a happy place...fields of poppies from Wizard of Oz, and uttered a gentle phrase within the acoustics of the canyon walls..."Muck boots and split shot!" I simultaneously leaned back, hurled the rod backward as far as I dared without hitting the trees behind me, and reeled as fast as I could. Sure enough...when the slack is taken in, the rod tip starts pumping and I see several, bright flashes beneath the water where my spoon should be.
Then, the now perturbed fish, starts to bolt to the far side of the river and my drag starts to sing. Phew! My frantic actions to set the hook with all that slack appeared to have worked...I think I got it. Then the feat all of us steelheaders both revel and fear...the leap! The fish erupts from the surface, with some mighty head shakes, and I watch my spoon flip back into the river. More gentle eloquence escapes my lips, "Spun fur on a leech!"
I hope there are a few things we can take away from this...well, except for a fish, because that thing's long gone.
After gridding out the stretch of river with a bobber and nightmare jig. I switched to a spoon. Here's the full setup:
2/5 oz. Cleo in chrome/blue with the treble replaced with a sturdy 1/0 siwash, slightly twisted with pliers to offset at the hook bend. I fanned out casts, starting about 15 ft. out, adding a few feet to each cast, all the way to the far likely water. Then I moved down about 30 feet, to a new spot. I was standing about a foot from the water's edge, and aimed my first casts close in, covering the area near me and just below me on the swing. After that, I aimed for the further reaches. My first cast past mid-river was targeted at a 62 degree angle upstream (I know, I know...don't tell Bill Herzog). I tilted my rod back, and snapped my wrist, stopping at about 60 degrees and releasing the line from my right fore-finger, letting the rod-load, fling the spoon out 39', 8.17"" (measured with a laser rule).
I closed the bail, and almost immediately the line stopped moving in the water. Rule #1: If your line stops moving, set the hook immediately! But here's my dilemma...I hadn't yet reeled up the slack line from the cast. I thought of a happy place...fields of poppies from Wizard of Oz, and uttered a gentle phrase within the acoustics of the canyon walls..."Muck boots and split shot!" I simultaneously leaned back, hurled the rod backward as far as I dared without hitting the trees behind me, and reeled as fast as I could. Sure enough...when the slack is taken in, the rod tip starts pumping and I see several, bright flashes beneath the water where my spoon should be.
Then, the now perturbed fish, starts to bolt to the far side of the river and my drag starts to sing. Phew! My frantic actions to set the hook with all that slack appeared to have worked...I think I got it. Then the feat all of us steelheaders both revel and fear...the leap! The fish erupts from the surface, with some mighty head shakes, and I watch my spoon flip back into the river. More gentle eloquence escapes my lips, "Spun fur on a leech!"
I hope there are a few things we can take away from this...well, except for a fish, because that thing's long gone.
Chez, if it makes you feel any better, i havent touched a fish since May 2nd or something like that lol
