| McKenzie River fishing guide and Rogue River steelhead fishing guides specialist, fly fishing Oregon McKenzie River trout and Rogue River steelhead |
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Cowboy Up |
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Are You Willing to
“Cowboy Up”? Life is hard. Consistent
success steelheading with a fly rod can be harder. The American cowboy of the late 19th century seems to epitomize all that many of us admire in a man or woman: independence, self-reliance, resourcefulness, courage, the ability to overcome adversity without whimpering about life as “unfair”. Even though he may be disdained by today’s collectivist progressives, I suspect the cowboy is even secretly admired by them, too. A Byronic hero: publicly scorned, but privately envied. I see the cowboy’s admirable traits most obviously demonstrated today in amateur athletes (rarely professionals), small business owners, good fishing guides, and successful steelhead anglers. All dwell in an extremely competitive environment. Most will not succeed in their quest, falling by the wayside as they lose another race, close the business, give up on steelhead, or are unable to satisfy their fishing clients who take their business elsewhere. As a college instructor, I give quizzes and exams to measure what students have (or haven't) learned. So, it's only natural I would try to discover what YOU have learned to this point, even if you've not read any previous chapters. You've, at least, attended my fishing classes, and will have a firm background, I hoppe, to think logically about a strategic approach to fishing. Here’s a brief test. Lighten up, and have a little fun with it. Choose the best answer. Clue: It has a self-reliant, "cowboy up" theme. 1. A cowboy riding his horse on a narrow, precipitous trail encounters a coiled rattlesnake determined to block his path will a) scream like a little girl and ride for home b) close his eyes and hope the snake goes away c) try to reason with the reptile d) hope someone else will come along and deal with the snake e) organize a committee to study the problem f) none of the above, little cowpoke 2. A businessman (or woman) is steering his business through a severe economic turndown in a competitive market. He encounters uncertainty and misfortune determined to block his business success. He will a) scream like a little girl and drive for home b) close his eyes and hope the downturn goes away c) sit quietly catatonic d) hope someone else will come along and deal with the problem e) organize a committee to study the problem f) none of the above, little cowpoke 3. A good steelhead guide riding his drift boat into a harrowing whitewater rapids encounters a nasty, jagged boulder determined to block his path. He will a) scream like a little girl and row for home b) close his eyes and hope the rock goes away c) try to reason with the rock d) hope someone else will come along and remove the rock e) organize a committee to study the rock f) none of the above, little cowpoke 4. A frustrated wannabe steelhead fly angler can’t catch a fish, or lucks into only the very occasional steelhead. He should a) give up, go home, and sell his gear on Ebay b) take up golf c) take up golf and dress-making d) blame the evil, large corporations and George Bush e) Shut up, suck it up, and Cowboy Up, little cowpoke There are three realities: 1) perceiving the world and our circumstances as we think they are, but aren’t (a delusional, secular socialist / progressive); 2) perceiving the world and our circumstances as we hope they are, but aren’t (a fearful ostrich or delusional, secular socialist / progressive); and finally, perceiving the world and our circumstances as they truly are (a smart cowboy and/or successful steelhead guide). A reality-based guide real-izes witty conversation sprinkled with jokes and fish stories under beautiful skies surrounded by a magnificent river environment, and the client sharing the fishing experience with friends and family, will not sum to compensate for few or no fish caught. At day’s end, the single most important item on every client’s checklist --- even though they may deny it --- is how many steelhead were hooked. Maddeningly, for too many, it’s how many steelhead were actually landed. And, I know that my hoping real hard that their outlooks were more benevolent doesn’t change this fact of fishing reality a tiny bit. Gotta get real, and stay real. Knowing the ultimate pitfall of guiding --- not catching enough significant fish to please the client --- I “cowboy up” every day on the steelhead river. This is never a casual approach. I anticipate and plan for adversity: weather, water flows, intrusions by other river users, uncooperative fish, clients unable or unwilling to take directions necessary to catch a fish, and clients not psychologically geared to the usual demands of successful steelhead fishing. Reality tells me every day my resourcefulness and confidence will be tested. The Fishing Guide As Steely-Eyed Gunfighter For almost two decades I’ve tried to outsmart the stock market to grow my retirement investments. I’ve studied and researched potential investments harder than anything I ever did through graduate school, dedicating literally thousands of hours. Anyone who watches The Market and his investments too closely is sentenced to living on an emotional roller coaster. One day is elation; the next is hell. An aspect of investing I continued to ignore for too many years is the emotional control necessary for the investor (me) to maintain his sanity. Whenever I encountered articles, chapters and whole books addressing the topic of emotional evenness, I totally ignored them, underestimating its importance. Motivated by sleepless nights, learning to successfully deal with the short term mountain top highs and valley floor lows of my retirement investments has assumed top-priority importance. The same analogy applies to steelhead fishing and guiding. On one hand, I need to learn all that can be discerned about steelhead behavior, reading rivers correctly within a vast universe of water flows, secret flies, effective techniques, and the right equipment; it’s a totally different matter not to succumb to the emotional havoc that is inherent to the pursuit of steelhead. For some of us, self-doubt may be sent into hibernation for awhile, but is never completely eliminated.
Analyze This Lord, please give me the strength to change the things I can, The ability to endure the things I can’t,
And the wisdom to know the difference. Having to deal constantly with temperamental fish and temperamental clients, getting “skunked” usually ranks near the top of a fishing guide’s daily fears. At the start of a two week stretch of late winter guided fishing in the not too distant past, I had three guests fish with me for three days. The river was extremely high, but clear. There was no doubt that steelhead could easily see the flies that were drifted into their zone. I was confident we would catch steelhead even though it was obvious by the lack of anglers on the river that not many shared my faith. On top of my confidence, my guests were upbeat, persistent, and grateful for my efforts. We WERE going to catch fish! And we did, on all three days. I could never predict where or when during the fishing day, but we netted at least two steelhead every day, and hooked others which escaped. Self-doubt was not an option. Following these halcyon days, fishing marginal water conditions, a long-time client and his friend arrived to fish with me for three days. We are two hours into our first eight-hour fishing day when my client friend is lamenting the possibility of getting skunked. After reminding him the day is young and we had been in this same situation during many fishing days in the past, he seemed encouraged. But in less than thirty minutes he commented again that he was on track to go fishless. To add to the pressure I was starting to feel, he remarked that “this is the reason we’re here”, referring to putting a steelhead in the net. Granted, I was probably overly sensitive at the moment, but this repeated comment seemed to totally disregard the fact that the day was cloudless, the river scenery magnificent, and my boating and guiding efforts were the best they could be. My only comment at this point was “I will try harder”. I didn’t know exactly how I was going to try harder, but if there was a way I would try to discover it. Short of capturing a steelhead and placing it on the hook, I was at a bit of a loss. At 3 o’clock in the afternoon, six hours into our fishing day, my guest in fear of being skunked hooked a fabulous steelhead. After putting up a memorable fight that took us several hundred yards down the river, I was able to slip the beautiful hen into the landing net. Photos commemorated the moment. I reminded the doubting client that his patience and persistence would be rewarded. This message stuck with him . . . until the next day. We were further into Day 2 than the previous when skeptical guest again started in about being skunked, though his companion had already hooked and landed a steelhead. I reassured him of my faith in him to hook a fish by day’s end if he kept making good casts. By day’s end he had landed two. Again, I tried to point out the lessons of patience and persistence. It’s mid afternoon of Day 3. I’ve already heard the “I’m going to get skunked” line several times AGAIN. It’s after 3 p.m. In the midst of a weak moment, my client is doing a good job of convincing me, even though I have not been blanked on this river for many years. Just before 3:30 my guy sets the hook into another excellent steelhead. Fight, fight, net, and photos. We still had two hours to fish. I chastised myself silently for doubting. A few days later I had two brothers, R and E, same river, high water. E was a first time fly angler. He’s in pursuit of the of a moody winter steelhead with a fly rod. Brother R had fished with me a couple times previously in the winter, landing his first steelhead ever on a fly a couple of months earlier. Both had great attitudes, just happy to be learning about fly fishing on a beautiful river. They, also, realized the effort I exerted to row them into fishing position on a swollen river. I was doing my best to reward them for their faith and appreciation of me.
It’s after 4 p.m., and no fish landed. Even though a few steelhead had been briefly hooked, clients seem to forget about opportunities and only remember fish that make it to the net. It may not be “fair” or “right”, but it seems that only landed steelhead count towards a day’s fishing success. It’s landed steelhead which best insure clients return to fish again. Cut to the ending. Novice brother E lands his first winter steelhead on a fly. Veteran brother R lands a two salt, six pound beauty. How could I ever doubt? As they say in infomercials, “And, that’s not all!” R puts a spectacular nine pound native hen in the net to end the day. Almost seven hours of no fish landed, then three steelhead in the last hour and fifteen minutes. Go figure. The Guide on Reconnaissance Before my next clients were scheduled to fish during the same time frame continued from above, I had two days to write another portion of this book and/or go fishing. On the first day, driven mostly by the guilt of being a writing slacker, I sat for hours composing at my laptop. Just before noon on my second day, I made the decision to launch my boat for some steelhead reconnaissance. With my mp3 player blasting in my ears, I was rowing down the river by 12:30 p.m. The first spot at which I anchored was a suspiciously good looking run where I had never caught a steelhead. But, at high water, it had “The Look”. Having tied on a couple of egg patterns that had worked for my clients during the past week, it took me exactly two casts to hook my first steelhead of the day. I brought the bright little hen to the boat, admired her briefly, then, sent the fish on her way. After a couple dozen more casts, I sang myself down the river toward my next stop. My next destination was the edge of a fast chute that had produced two steelhead in quick succession for one of my guests the week before. I had fished this same locale four times with clients since the two fish episode. We did not touch another fish in those attempts. Maybe today would be different. It took a few more than two casts but I quickly found myself connected to a jumping sprinting steelhead that headed straight into the chute, and through the rapids. I was looking at my fly line backing by the time I pulled the anchor to pursue.
When fishing alone in a drift boat, it’s most useful to have three hands when chasing a fish: two hands to man the oars, and one hand to hold the fly rod. I rowed a few strokes to position myself for the oncoming whitewater drop, then cranked on the fly reel to gather line as I sped toward the slowing fish. Row, row. Reel, reel. Row some more. Reel some more. I dropped through the final waves, then, let the boat go where it wished. As the current speed decreased and the water shallowed, I released the anchor. It did not take long to realize the steelhead had toasted my leader, breaking off both flies during its escape. The excitement diminished any disappointment. The fish had beaten me fair and square. I’ve always admired a resourceful win by a worthy adversary. I re-tied my leader and flies, and rocked on to location #3, a narrow channel immediately above the next big rapid. Staying well away from the fishable water, the anchor came down again. After five minutes, or so, I was about to give up when I made a cast that did not appear to be too different from many of the others I’d already thrown. But, apparently, there was some little nuanced change in the drift that encouraged a previously reluctant steelhead to bite. The silvery hatchery hen made a great move to start the game: she charged the boat, creating slack line. When using barbless flies --- which I do --- this maneuver can often win a fish its freedom. The swiftness of the current, however, kept tension on the line, preventing the hook from being dislodged. It was a visual treat to watch the fish do battle in the shallow water near the boat. All during the fight it never strayed very far from me. Soon, the fish exhausted itself. I held the rod tip high with my right hand, and scooped the fish into landing net with my left. Three anchor drops, three steelhead on. Why was angling success so easy today? Same water level. Same flies fished in the same old spots with the same technique. Different angler . . . . It came back to me, as the realization has many times, that successful steelheading is always a game of small details. There are little nuances in the cast, the drift of the flies, the position of the rod tip, and the fine-tuned awareness of what is happening during the fishing process, that all contribute significantly to consistent success. I fear that some of these details are so minute that they escape detection. That is, an experienced angler may make tiny adjustments to get the “perfect” drift of the fly which will trigger a strike from a steelhead that the average angler would not be able to coax. Additionally, exceptional anglers stay focused on the task of fishing. When the strike comes, a great angler anticipates that it is coming. It’s an intuition born of experience. The great angler slows the drift of the fly with a subtle mend in the line, when the average angler thinks is drifting perfectly already. Conversely, the exceptional angler doesn’t over manipulate the drift of the line and fly, making needless or detrimental adjustments. Also, what the average, or even good, angler may think is too subtle to be a fish strike, or worse yet, presume the fly was caused to hesitate by “a rock”, the exceptional fisherman always assumes is a fish, looking for any excuse whatsoever to set the hook. Experience takes time, even with a good mentor helping you. I do my very best to coach my clients on the river. I constantly banter about technique, focus and awareness, and I’m aware that I can annoy some of my guests by repeating myself often. But, when the Moment of Truth (the strike) comes, I have tried to prepare them for it. If a client gets only one or two strikes in a full steelhead fishing day, I want them to make the most of it. I want them to be successful in hooking a fish or two (or three, or ten), so they will learn and enjoy, and, oh yeah, hire me to take them fishing again and again. Let’s move on to spot # 4 during my fishing day. This was a run where, due to circumstances thrown my way by Murphy’s Law, I had been unable effectively fish with clients in the last week and a half. The currents are swift and tricky, so positioning boat in an effective location is a challenge. Biting fish can always be found in this spot IF the angler can be held in place long enough to finally get the right cast. This day it took me less than a dozen casts to make the right one. Fish on! The steelhead screamed line off the reel, headed downstream with purpose. I lifted the anchor to follow. When I reached quiet water a hundred yards downstream, I dropped the anchor, made my stand, and fought the steelhead all the way into the net. After a few brief moments of admiration, I sent the fish back into the river. Locations #5 and #6 held high hope for me. Unfortunately, the fish showed this spoiled man no love, so it’s on to Les’s Ledges. One portion of this long, irregular channel had “saved the day” several days in the last week. Another High Hope location. To get to this channel I had outrun a couple of drift boats which had decided to linger well upriver and out of sight. But before I could be too pleased, a jet boat full of anglers was cruising up the river right at me, deviously sliding into the water I was about to fish. Though I am tempted here to rant on about the noise, wake, pollution and the violation of tranquility perpetrated by powerboats on small rivers, I will merely say I held my ground and began to fish. In the same portion of the Ledges that my clients had hooked steelhead in recent days, I was fortune enough to do the same. It turned out to be the biggest of the day. As my audience in the powerboat watched, I drifted into quieter waters with my fish in tow. Things were good for the first couple of minutes. I got a close look at this wonderful steelhead. I could clearly see my egg fly in its upper jaw. Then, the hook came out, and my rainbow denizen slowly sank into the depths. I turned up the volume on my mp3 player, and drifted downriver with a few last locations in mind. Though I fished these well, I got no cigar. In two and half hours at mid day, my tally was five hooked, three steelhead landed. Gratifying, but almost too easy. Why couldn’t my attentive, studious clients do the same? Ultimately, the same old answers circled back to me: experience, focus, attention to, and execution of, the fishing details. For the beginner, or a veteran ”expert” diligently trying to change his bad fly fishing habits, these are all fed by persistence and faith. Tested Faith . . . Again My last client came in to fish the final two days of my extended stay. He’s a good nymph angler because I trained him from Ground Zero. No bad habits, good focus, sound technique, and a great attitude. What a treat for me. Because of my personal fishing experiences from the day before, my confidence was high. I forgot about being humble in my state of confidence. Steelhead can be harsh, merciless taskmasters. On the first day my good and attentive guest caught two steelhead in the latter half of the day. He had fished well, and was pleased. On the other hand, the results had not matched my expectations. Maybe tomorrow would live up to my expectations. I really wanted it for my client friend. I wanted it, perhaps, too much. Though I tried to conceal it, my friend picked up on my frustration that he was not hooking numerous fish. He kindly reminded me that he was having a great day, and that he knew I was trying my best to get him into fish as I had done so many times over the years. So, instead of relaxing a bit, I actually was more determined to row harder and fish smarter to get this deserving man into a willing steelhead. But just like in the Wide World of Dating, he who presses too hard to impress the girl, usually hurts his chances. He who needs to find a biting steelhead will be slapped across the face by Miss Murphy’s Law. On this day Murphy showed up in the form of numerous boats and bank anglers. It seemed everywhere I wanted to fish, someone was already there. When I dodged the drift boats, the bankies and powerboats found me. Trying to take to heart some of the sage advice I had often repeated to my clients, I was reminded --- AGAIN --- not to give up until the last cast is made. So, I had my client keep his fly in the water even in areas I had never caught a fish, seen a steelhead caught, or even heard of a steelhead caught there. Again, my pathetic silent prayer: “I know I’m doing a poor job of Cowboy-ing Up, but please, God, just one suicidal steelhead.” WE were running out of fishing time and water as we drifted through what I deemed to be mediocre steelhead water. The area where my client’s fly was drifting was too fast and shallow. Apparently, a willing seven-pound steelhead did not know this as it grabbed my friend’s hook. On top of this, the fish put on a tremendous, memorable fight that took us down the river on a merry chase that ended happily with it safely in the net. Lots of photos memorialized the memory of the fight and all the combatants. The day ended with big smiles all around, and another lesson in tested faith and persistence. Remember. The game is not over until the Fat Lady sings and the last cast is finished. One More Test of Faith, Little Buckaroo One more story to illustrate a couple of points about persistence, patience and faith . . . It was mid April, the tail end of the winter steelhead season on the rivers I fish. I was locked into the date by my client’s schedule. The river level was good, the weather for the day was occasionally rainy. It was all systems go. My client for the day was definitely experienced. He was a fly fishing veteran. I knew this would be a problem. It ALWAYS is! Like trying to teach an old dog new tricks, long-time fly fishermen are locked into the bad habits formed over years of using poor or ineffective techniques. They cast too far and too often. Loose coils of line are everywhere, but especially tangled on gear in the boat or underfoot. These guys mend line at the wrong time in the wrong way, and too often. When the drift of the fly should end to be re-cast, the veteran is determined to feed more line through the rod guides to extend the drift beyond its effective range. Veterans waste a lot of valuable fishing time. AND, they are unable to take suggestions for any significant length of time before they immediately revert to wasting fishing time again. In short, with rare exception, these “experts” are unteachable. On top of incorrigible fish, I have to attempt to help an incorrigible fisherman. They may be nice people with good intentions, but they seem unable to help themselves. Try as I may, after more than a quarter of century of guiding, short of shock therapy and a frontal lobotomy, I have not found a way to de-program these anglers. However, I must admit to entertaining training fantasies which involve cattle prods and dog shock collars. Now back to the story . . .
My client, a good natured and conversational man, was thrilled to know we would be nymph fishing for steelhead. This was his realm of fly fishing expertise. And, as the day unfolded, it was evident he had done quite a bit of nymph fishing. He could handle a fly rod and understood casting mechanics. That’s good . . . kind of. Downside: cast too far; mended too much, and, often, ineffectively; and, persisted in lengthening the drift of the fly by shaking additional line through the rod guides. At the start, experience told me we would be on the water for eight hours, but effectively fishing for --- maybe --- three hours. Please, God, let me find some suicidal steelhead. By early afternoon, my experienced nympher had had two confirmed brief encounters with steelhead. In both cases, in spite of my constant reminders, his continued employment of poor fly line management skills had cost him the chances to solidly hook and hold a steelhead. All I could do was continue to offer positive encouragement that “it could be the next cast” which would produce a willing-to-commit-suicide fish. We are now about 180 seconds from the boat ramp for takeout. At most, my guest has three casts remaining for his day before the river’s current pushes the boat through the last water with any hope of hiding a steelhead. Though my hope had departed, lighting struck. My veteran nympher was fast into a big steelhead which revealed its impressive dimensions as it rolled to the surface. After frantically gathering loose coils of fly line, my guy was lucky enough to get the fish on the reel. It was halleluiah time! My client’s persistence had paid off in creating a dramatic end to the day. After having made hundreds and hundreds of casts for eight hours, it all was coming down to what may have realistically been the last cast of the day. It’s not good for the angler when a steelhead persists in rolling and thrashing. You want it to swim normally. Maybe it swims away at high speed, or charges the boat, but these things are manageable. But a rolling thrashing fish is trouble. Often, these troublemakers tangle in the leader, or worse, get impaled somewhere with the second fly. Apparently not applying undue tension on the line, my guest was too quickly parted from his beautiful prize. The steelhead had broken off, tangled in the leader, I’m sure, by its unsportsmanlike antics. My guy was greatly disappointed, as was I. But fortunately for me, he wasn’t disappointed enough not to give me a nice gratuity as we said good-bye for the day. He congratulated me on my upbeat, encouraging attitude in the face tough fishing, which made me feel especially good. On top of this, he wanted to book another guided steelhead trip. Persist, persist, persist. Fish hard right through the last cast. You never can predict what will happen. And, if you can, be happy while you do it. Steelhead days can, strangely, be both disappointing and gratifying. Part of the Cowboy Up process is keeping the faith, even when the outlook seems bleak --- keeping hope alive you will find a biting steelhead when none can be found. If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs . . . If you can trust yourself . . . If you can wait and not be tired by waiting . . . If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, And treat those two impostors both the same . . . If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone . . . If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And --- which is more --- you will know what it means To “cowboy up”, my son. My apologies for tinkering with Rudyard Kipling’s fine poem “If”. Fly fishing for steelhead --- if I may be so audacious --- is an allegory of Life. Every day has its challenges, even for Bill Gates and Brad Pitt, and the world’s greatest steelhead fisherman/guide, whoever he may be. Observe, learn, persist. But, most of all, persist. Not everyone is cut out to be a consistently successful steelhead fly angler. Most do not have the necessary mind set. You know, like the tenacity of an angry pit bull clamped on a mailman’s thigh. Maybe you are happy in the casual pursuit of the world’s most fabulous freshwater gamefish. If the rain is falling, you will wait to fish when the weather is nice. When the river is high, you will wait for more suitable flows. If you don’t get a strike in the first two hours, there’s yard work to do and football on TV . . . and laundry to fold, and ruffled-sleeved shirts to iron. On the other hand, there will be the cowboys with fly rods making a thousand casts today with frozen fingers and rain dripping down their necks. And, every now and then their rod tips will be bent hard against a magnificent fish that others would not, could not, and should not catch. Giddyup!
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