It was the end, or so people were saying. I decided to find out for myself. I parked my truck and started walking along the highway.
I walked 3 miles, doing my own shuttle and floating the Deschutes river, but it was worth it. I fished by myself, no other anglers in sight and realized that there was so much good water that it was hard to fish it all during prime time. I tied on my special “Clark’s Stone” a homebrew “late hatch” version for picky trout. I started fishing at 6:40 pm and by 8 pm I had landed 9 beautiful Deschutes River redsides. I Caught fish in the flat, caught fish in the riffle, caught fish in the other riffle, they were everywhere I floated down to my secret spot thinking I didn’t really need to fish it, but I tied on a big purple chubby churnobyl and started fishing. Hmmm, how to describe that spot…Amazing! Big bugs hatched for about 10-15 minutes around 9 pm and the fish were going nuts. You won’t believe me if I told you how many more fish I caught, so I won’t tell you. What stood out the most were the three 20″ fish I landed and the 20″+ fish that came off at my feet. One of those fish was so hot he took me into my backing twice. Summer Steelhead hot!
The fishing was excellent and it was nice to be on the river by myself for a little quiet and reflection time, but every time I hooked a screamer I looked around for someone to share it with. There is nothing like fishing with my brothers.
I floated down the river as the weight of the night sky squeezed out the last bit of light and found my take out. I tied up my pontoon boat and started the 1/2 mile hike to my truck. As I walked I thought, yep, hatch is over. A sly grin cracked across my face and I silently thanked all the fishermen who stopped fishing the salmon fly hatch or who trust internet reports. The end is only for those who dare to not go.