Somewhere between the mighty Skeena River and the Sacramento River lies a little piece of heaven. To be a little less vague the heaven resides on Nevergonnatellya Creek and Dontevenask River. GORGEOUS! Afterall, as steelhead fisherman, the first rule of Steel club is don’t talk about rivers. The second rule of steel club, is don’t talk about rivers! Get the point. Good, now on with the report!
This little journey started when Ryan and I jumped in the car and drove. We drove and we drove and we drove. We smoked big fat cigars, and then decided to stop and sleep.
We woke up the next day and ate eggs, bacon, potatoes and went and fished Nevergonnatallya Creek with our buddy Pete. We got to the creek about 7:30 in the morn and noticed right away it was gin clear. Normally, Gin is very good, in fact I am drinking some now, but in this scenario, not so much, even with jalapeno stuffed olives!
We drive up the creek, park, get our game faces on and start to fish down. The prospects are bleak as it is obvious we are a little late for this creek. When IT happens.
I am floating down a deep hole, ‘cator goes under, set. Head shake, head shake, Ryan lets me know that there is a fish on with a “yeah yeah yeah”. Nothing.
“DOOOODE, that fish looked like a mirror underwater!” Ahhh, that one would eat at me the rest of the trip. Why the hell did that fish not turn? SOB bit, shook, and went back to the bottom, no turn, shit!
Salt starts running through our veins as we are becoming increasingly sober on the gin clear water. We decide to check out Dontevenask River and scout for the next day.
This looks good, glacial green, flows are right. We need to be here EARLY tomorrow!
Beers, burgers, and a girly salad on the way home. Tie flies and burbon until late. Sleep, flatulence, snoring, stumbling hungover!
We are on the road early.
Coffee, breakfast to go, air is foggy with methane, the bellowing of tuba's, anticipation, and doubt!
Maybe we should go to Notnearanyofem River instead. Pete lets us know that is not an option. Thankyou Pete!!!!!!!
We get to Dontevenask River and it looks good. Real good. No one around, big trees, small water, GORGEOUS!
Pete and I walk upstream and fish down while Ryan swings down. Pete and I are skunked until.......
‘Cator under, hook set, “shit, a snag”. Then no, wait, run, BIG JUMP. I see my face in the side of this fish as Pete asks what do I do now. “Don’t Horse It!”
Brooken hook, Damnit, cheap ass hooks. That one goes to the river gods, 10 lbs for them.
Downstream we get to another nice run. Pete is casting, “get as close to that tree as you can” “Closer” “Good”. “Mend!” “YEAH YEAH YEAH!”
“WOOOOOO FISH ON FISH ON!”
Again, Pete asks me what the hell do I do. “Don’t horse it, and RUNNNNNNNNN!”
Pete is sprinting down river waist deep, I jump out and bust balls down river, get below the pissed off mirrored acrobatic that has pulled over for a second wind and bear hug it. YAHTZEEEEEE!
About 10-12. Wild as hell, My cornea’s are burnt from the reflection, GORGEOUS!
We high five, slug scotch. Scotchy, scotch, scotch. We love scotch!
We have no clue how Ryan is doing? He comes out of the woods to see us laughing and drinking, he knows. He also lets us know that he swung up a 12 lb SILVER MISTER PIGGY up river as well as a nice coho! It is a good day and now the clock has struck noon.
I manage a nice bright 21 inch half pounder out of the hole where Pete just caught the flying silverado.
We walk downriver as far as we can, till we get to Youarescrewed Canyon. I find a nice log above the canyon and fish it.
Short cast. Nothing, Drop a dime near the log. ‘Cator under. YEAH YEAH YEAH. Big run upstream. Gone. 12lb maxima broken! DAMN.
One more cast in there after retie. Snowball’s chance in hell on this one. Small hole, already one big fish in there. Usually not 2 big things in small holes like that!
A bit farther down the log. ‘Cator under. YEAH YEAH YEAH. This fish was big. Real big. Ya know when you set the hook and the fish sets the rod back in your hand. Yeah, that kinda big. The line and cator run up stream with the sound of a 757. DONE. Broken maxima again. Not sure what some of the words I yelled mean, but I am sure they got the point across.
No other fish the rest of the day. BUT, there just happen to be 3 PBR’s left in the cooler for 3 good buddies back at the truck.
Yeah, I would say it was the best steelhead trip of my life. Couldn’t beat the scenery, fishes, or company. Thanks guys.
__________________________________________________________________
My response:
Here here to an incredible trip and thanks for the write-up on the events. I must say that was one of the best trips I have been on. We had a great group and anglers, plenty of comedy, insane scenery and big coastal steelhead. To give you an idea of just how well this trip went, here is a list of words used and the approximate number of times we used them during the trip:
This little journey started when Ryan and I jumped in the car and drove. We drove and we drove and we drove. We smoked big fat cigars, and then decided to stop and sleep.
We woke up the next day and ate eggs, bacon, potatoes and went and fished Nevergonnatallya Creek with our buddy Pete. We got to the creek about 7:30 in the morn and noticed right away it was gin clear. Normally, Gin is very good, in fact I am drinking some now, but in this scenario, not so much, even with jalapeno stuffed olives!
We drive up the creek, park, get our game faces on and start to fish down. The prospects are bleak as it is obvious we are a little late for this creek. When IT happens.
I am floating down a deep hole, ‘cator goes under, set. Head shake, head shake, Ryan lets me know that there is a fish on with a “yeah yeah yeah”. Nothing.
“DOOOODE, that fish looked like a mirror underwater!” Ahhh, that one would eat at me the rest of the trip. Why the hell did that fish not turn? SOB bit, shook, and went back to the bottom, no turn, shit!
Salt starts running through our veins as we are becoming increasingly sober on the gin clear water. We decide to check out Dontevenask River and scout for the next day.
This looks good, glacial green, flows are right. We need to be here EARLY tomorrow!
Beers, burgers, and a girly salad on the way home. Tie flies and burbon until late. Sleep, flatulence, snoring, stumbling hungover!
We are on the road early.
Coffee, breakfast to go, air is foggy with methane, the bellowing of tuba's, anticipation, and doubt!
Maybe we should go to Notnearanyofem River instead. Pete lets us know that is not an option. Thankyou Pete!!!!!!!
We get to Dontevenask River and it looks good. Real good. No one around, big trees, small water, GORGEOUS!
Pete and I walk upstream and fish down while Ryan swings down. Pete and I are skunked until.......
‘Cator under, hook set, “shit, a snag”. Then no, wait, run, BIG JUMP. I see my face in the side of this fish as Pete asks what do I do now. “Don’t Horse It!”
Brooken hook, Damnit, cheap ass hooks. That one goes to the river gods, 10 lbs for them.
Downstream we get to another nice run. Pete is casting, “get as close to that tree as you can” “Closer” “Good”. “Mend!” “YEAH YEAH YEAH!”
“WOOOOOO FISH ON FISH ON!”
Again, Pete asks me what the hell do I do. “Don’t horse it, and RUNNNNNNNNN!”
Pete is sprinting down river waist deep, I jump out and bust balls down river, get below the pissed off mirrored acrobatic that has pulled over for a second wind and bear hug it. YAHTZEEEEEE!
About 10-12. Wild as hell, My cornea’s are burnt from the reflection, GORGEOUS!
We high five, slug scotch. Scotchy, scotch, scotch. We love scotch!
We have no clue how Ryan is doing? He comes out of the woods to see us laughing and drinking, he knows. He also lets us know that he swung up a 12 lb SILVER MISTER PIGGY up river as well as a nice coho! It is a good day and now the clock has struck noon.
I manage a nice bright 21 inch half pounder out of the hole where Pete just caught the flying silverado.
We walk downriver as far as we can, till we get to Youarescrewed Canyon. I find a nice log above the canyon and fish it.
Short cast. Nothing, Drop a dime near the log. ‘Cator under. YEAH YEAH YEAH. Big run upstream. Gone. 12lb maxima broken! DAMN.
One more cast in there after retie. Snowball’s chance in hell on this one. Small hole, already one big fish in there. Usually not 2 big things in small holes like that!
A bit farther down the log. ‘Cator under. YEAH YEAH YEAH. This fish was big. Real big. Ya know when you set the hook and the fish sets the rod back in your hand. Yeah, that kinda big. The line and cator run up stream with the sound of a 757. DONE. Broken maxima again. Not sure what some of the words I yelled mean, but I am sure they got the point across.
No other fish the rest of the day. BUT, there just happen to be 3 PBR’s left in the cooler for 3 good buddies back at the truck.
Yeah, I would say it was the best steelhead trip of my life. Couldn’t beat the scenery, fishes, or company. Thanks guys.
__________________________________________________________________
My response:
Here here to an incredible trip and thanks for the write-up on the events. I must say that was one of the best trips I have been on. We had a great group and anglers, plenty of comedy, insane scenery and big coastal steelhead. To give you an idea of just how well this trip went, here is a list of words used and the approximate number of times we used them during the trip:
Awesome: 2,000
Incredible: 2,953
Shit: 12,000
Unbelievable: 4,678
Wow:1,234
You get the idea.
If you have had the opportunity to fish Oregon's coast then you know about the dense mist, heavy fog, moss covered trees, glacial green water and breathtaking hillsides. I found myself lost within the aesthetics of my surroundings.
We were fortunate enough to hit Dontevenask creek within 63.5 hours of it clearing...miracle.
As Mike mentioned I headed down river to fish solo and seek out the swingable water. I had my 11'9" 6wt scott ARC with me and a few flies. After bombing a cast out to nick the edge of the seam, letting the fly engage in the current then preparing for the grab I once again became lost in the scenery. While spacing out I felt a tug... I thought, huh… then bam! He ate it! My heart immediately began to pound, I watched the water like a hawk, looking to see if this was truly a steelhead (not sure what else it could have been). Within no time my questions were answered with a towering leap into the air followed by a stong run down river. After negotiating with the fish for a while we came to agreement that I would take its picture…
After landing, admiring and releasing this brute I felt stoned off my ass, it was awesome! GORGEOUS!
The picture was taken with a cell phone… so it goes.
We were fortunate enough to hit Dontevenask creek within 63.5 hours of it clearing...miracle.
As Mike mentioned I headed down river to fish solo and seek out the swingable water. I had my 11'9" 6wt scott ARC with me and a few flies. After bombing a cast out to nick the edge of the seam, letting the fly engage in the current then preparing for the grab I once again became lost in the scenery. While spacing out I felt a tug... I thought, huh… then bam! He ate it! My heart immediately began to pound, I watched the water like a hawk, looking to see if this was truly a steelhead (not sure what else it could have been). Within no time my questions were answered with a towering leap into the air followed by a stong run down river. After negotiating with the fish for a while we came to agreement that I would take its picture…
After landing, admiring and releasing this brute I felt stoned off my ass, it was awesome! GORGEOUS!
The picture was taken with a cell phone… so it goes.
What a trip, thanks guys!
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