|"Spey casters take a lot of casting pictures." quoted by the best spey caster I know. This fly photo can be a substitute for the casting shot.|
About 10 casts in to our first run I got the subtle tap that sends a light jolt up your tip, into the hand, that signals something is on the end that isn't a rock. Amazingly I held off from the immediate yank and about the 3rd grab placed the hookset meter on stun and lifted towards the bank. There is always the lag that feels like an eternity where you can't tell wether you just set the hook on the bottom or something shinier. After the lag there was the familiar throb that tells you it's not a rock or lumber or anything but a steelhead on the end of the line. I couldn't help but yell out "suck it" after the species was confirmed; not as much to my buddy in front of me but to the steelhead gods and terrible reports and a long summer of fishing incredibly low water for too-warm trout. This arrogance caught up to me quickly. After a strong run into the head of the run a quick turn and wrap around the rock I hooked her off of and that was that. Two perfection loops at the end of my sinktip were all that remained; a sharp reminder to keep my steelhead-god thoughts to myself.
That was the only steelhead hooked all weekend. Two days of casting practice and sunshine and Butte Moonshine (poor choice). We couldn't even count it on the creel report, as hooked and lost fish don't count for much anyways. But it fuels the fire. And has me back at the vice, ready to head back out when the water cools a little more. Ready to get some more casting photos.