I think I've traveled more for work in the past month than I did all summer while exploring western Montana.
I needed a break. And so did my brother.
We used to fish together as kids and teenagers. Canyon Creek trout, Battle Ground lake exploration, and even some random trips up the the North Fork Lewis River to attempt to catch steelhead from shore.
Today, we floated a local river instead... my brother held a fishing rod for the first time in nearly a decade. I prospected with nymphs, the spey rod, and even had some fun with a spinning rod again. The fishing was good early, but the catching was poor...
And then this happened.
My brother hooked his first steelhead. And right from the start, we could tell that it was special.
The fish took run after run. My brother took his time though, listened to the sound advice of our fishing partner, and after nearly ten minutes we had the fish to shore.
Well into the teens as far as weight goes, this native Winter Steelhead is the fish of a lifetime for many. But for my brother, it's just his first. We told him that this fish is as good as it gets. After taking a few respectful pictures, the fish was ready to go. Fully recovered from the long fight, it darted back to its holding spot, hopefully destined to spawn another generation of impressive native Steelhead.
That same day, I hooked and lost a nice chromer, but I left the river full of joy. Seeing him fight and land, then release such a special fish means more than catching my own. At least that's how I see it.
Now to get him tuned to fishing on the fly...
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