Despite the challenging fishing and low numbers of fish, the north shore has charms of it's own that have attracted me for the last several seasons. With the limited amount of stream available to anglers there is usually a number of anglers to contend with and because fish are few and far between, sometimes fishing etiquette can be "questionable" with anglers with little steelheading experience but a tremendous desire to catch these magnificent fish losing all of their manners when they suspect you might be somewhere they can catch a fish. Fortunately, most of these guys focus on the terminal pools and the mouths of the rivers, but there are also a number of "herons" (my nickname for those guys that stalk along the bank looking for spawning fish to "catch"). For me though, there's serenity to be found fishing darker water and swirling water in the picturesque scenery of the north shore, especially if you get on the water early and late, when most anglers are driving to or from their distant homes.
This year I had only a couple of days and wouldn't have even had that except the run was very late on the north shore this year. The weekend before I'd struck fish running one of my favorite streams, the Stewart River but because I was "up north" to celebrate my wife's birthday I had only a limited chance to fish before a huge rainfall blew the streams out. After giving the streams a few days to clear I packed up the Jeep and headed north. The drive was uneventful but when I stopped in Hinkley for a meal I also stopped to check out a wood carving place. It worked out well as the carver was working on a nice bear eating a fish and I got to chat to him for a while and learn a little about the process. It was a good way to break up the drive.
I arrived at the Stewart river about 4pm and noticed their weren't many cars in the parking lot - not a good sign that the fish were in. Anyway, as I moved up the stream I didn't see any fish and the one angler I can across assured me the stream temperature was too high. I wasn't completely convinced but I was enjoying probing this delightful river as it's one of the few north shore streams with a decent stretch of river before the fish hit the terminal barrier. The sun got lower and lower and I eventually called it a day and headed back to the car, without any sign of fish. Then I had an idea.
A couple of years before I'd experienced the smelt run on the Beaver River and tied up a heap of smelt pattern flies I'd never used. Now was my chance to try out some of these flies, even if the chances were very low - at least I wouldn't feel like I'd tied them for nothing. The other thing in favor of trying it was that the Beaver River is close to Split-rock Lighthouse State Park where I intended to camp for the evening. So off I headed and I arrived there with the sun beginning it's decent over the Sawbill Mountains. I tied on my smelt pattern and began fishing. The conditions were great and not an angler to be seen. The water was lifeless but young families of ducks and mergansers were swimming around on the larger lower pool of the river. As I fished I wondered how late in the day the smelt began running but really I was just enjoying shooting my streamers out into some uncommonly large water.
Slowly but surely I began to forget about the serenity of things and became more focused on fishing. I began to notice swirls and sploshes, some that could only be made from large fish. I began casting at these swirls as they became more frequent and they soon had my complete attention. I became convinced my clumsy attempt at tying a smelt pattern was too sparse in the water and switched to a fly with more profile in the now low-light conditions. It was only the first or second swing through the head of the pool when a strong shock traveled through the rod and into my arm. For a moment or two the fish didn't know what was going on but when it figured out the resistance of the flyline wasn't to it's liking it shot off downstream towards the big lake. The reel screamed and I headed off in pursuit. This fish gave a very good account of itself in water that was large and deep enough to showcase it's ability to run, jump and sound. I also enjoyed the fight because there was little chance of losing the fish in water with very few logs or other snags around. Although it feels as though time stands still when I'm fighting a big fish I'm sure it was only a few minutes until I beached a beautiful, spawned-out, wild hen steelhead. My heart was pounding but I soon discovered I'd left my camera in the car. So I left the fish in the shallows and ran up the steep hill up to the car and then quickly sprinted back down. After snapping a couple of brag shots I released her no worse for the wear and sat back as my heart really pounded in my chest. Despite the fish still swirling I rested my eyes. When I awoke a dark black sky surrounded me and the gentle whirring of the whitewater soothed the cool night air. The waxing moon was already high in the sky and after a brief fishing session I headed back to the state park to set up camp.
The next morning saw me set up on the Splitrock River but after working it thoroughly I saw no sign of fish. I headed all the way up the shore to Devil's Track River and although the water temps were great it had too much flow to fish safely by yourself. I sat and thought about things for a while and realized I'd already exceeded my expectations for the trip. I pointed the car south and probed a few streams I'd never fished - the Poplar and the Cross - before heading home. As I drove past the Knife River I noticed there wasn't a single car. I knew water temps were way too high but I just wanted the chance to fish the once prolific waters of the Knife (I did wet a line there last year but it was PACKED with anglers then).
The Splitrock River
North of Cross River mouth
I tied on my go to cactus fly with a pheasant tail indicator rig and headed downstream, probing only the most likely of dark water. I was scanning for fish and about two thirds down to the lake I noticed a hen actively spawning and a male behind her. I positioned myself for the drift and began running the flies though. No take, no take and no take with every drift meeting with refusal. Finally, I let me flies drift below the tailout containing the fish and into the broken water, as I tried to reposition a little downstream of where I was standing.
North of Cross River mouth
I tied on my go to cactus fly with a pheasant tail indicator rig and headed downstream, probing only the most likely of dark water. I was scanning for fish and about two thirds down to the lake I noticed a hen actively spawning and a male behind her. I positioned myself for the drift and began running the flies though. No take, no take and no take with every drift meeting with refusal. Finally, I let me flies drift below the tailout containing the fish and into the broken water, as I tried to reposition a little downstream of where I was standing.
I noticed resistance on my drift and when I looked up to see which rock the flies were wrapped around I watched as the snag moved out and then downstream - Fish On! Unfortunately the dark fish didn't put up much of a show. He was beaten up from the rigors of the spawn and although he tried to run there just wasn't the ferociousness you might expect from a steelhead. He came to hand quickly and took a lot of reviving, and maybe he didn't make it. If I had to guess his story I imagine he might have been a prize fighter and was the dominant male of that stretch of spawning gravel but with each fight he lost some strength. Now he had been dethroned but instead of retiring gracefully he was sitting below the new king and queen eating their eggs. It probably isn't true but that's my best guess and I'm sticking with it. Although I took a picture of him it is probably the ugliest steelhead I've caught to date.
The beaten up steelhead
I fished down right to the lake and never saw another fish and the spawning couple left their redd with all the commotion of my fish. With the sun directly overhead I headed back to the car and continued back home. All in all I was more than satisfied with my north shore trip.
I fished down right to the lake and never saw another fish and the spawning couple left their redd with all the commotion of my fish. With the sun directly overhead I headed back to the car and continued back home. All in all I was more than satisfied with my north shore trip.
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