Creating an Addict...

I'm not going to lie, I miss having a nice pool of friends to fish with. I had that in Spokane, though in truth they were also mentors to me on the water (and in life). I've since become somewhat competent on the water (when chasing trout) and I've begun to share my passion for fly fishing with others.

I've taken my Dad out a few times and though we never put up big numbers of fish, we've had a great time on the water. Aside from my Dad I have a few good friends who I fish with now and recently I've gotten my brother back on the water.

This past week, it was his first fly fishing experience.

A sixty degree day in Central Oregon greeted us, as did about a hundred other anglers on a six mile stretch of the Crooked River...

Needless to say, my brother caught his first fish on the fly (a camera shy Whitefish) and he managed to drink all the bourbon. I was particularly impressed with his methodical approach to nymphing runs. The kid just might be a natural once he gets his casting down pat.

After many hours on the water, we packed up and hit the road bound for Bend, hungry and thirsty. IPAs and a warm meal?! Yes please!

I hope this trip is the first of many. I may have gotten my brother hooked. Pun intended.

Take Your Brother Fishing Day...

Okay. So lately, life has been crazy.

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...