One of the greatest things we can do in life is follow our calling. Michelle a PNW native and family friend is doing just that by working with a team from Pioneer Bible Translators to bring the words of God’s love to people groups around the world. She plays an important role on the scripture translation team.
The youngster Stone hooked a nice “slightly bigger salmon” then his dad, starting the trip off with a double as they both fought fish together. Shortly after the first two fish were landed the powers of the “beard” cast its spell on the waters below bringing up numerous participants.
The magic of being young lives in the endless opportunities and adventures that lay ahead. For young Cody these new ventures center around fishing. Cody loves to fish and spend time with his dad. Their great journeys together include fishing rods, sandwiches, tackle, and a nearby river.
Ken Faw spends his time serving in the community as an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist. His passion is investing in people. During his time in the office at Evergreen Hospital he oversee’s a major medical division and helps hundreds of people every week.
Working offsite can take on a lot of different looks. On this sunny Friday afternoon, business strategy and salmon made sense. With a new and quickly growing company, Seth and I had a lot to catch up on!
Learning is the beauty of any pursuit in life. As we learn our skills improve, our knowledge deepens, and our opportunities increase.
In summer conditions its important to remember that subtly can be very important. When a river is gin clear and had lots of pressure the profile and presentation of your fly can make a big difference.
On Saturday afternoon I fished the Cowlitz River. With lots of jet boats running up and down fishing eggs, shrimp, plugs, spinners, and a variety of different techniques I decided to go with a small wet fly. I knew the fish had seen lots of big presentations and must have been feeling the pressure.
The relentless pursuit from 13 year old Michaelo gave him the opportunity to catch his first steelhead. His trip in June was postponed due to the drought but that didn’t get this kid down. Fishing conditions had improved later in the summer and a week ago we headed to the Cowlitz River in search of steelhead.
Part of my job as a guide is to give grandpas, dads, and grandson’s the best possible opportunity. So we picked a Saturday afternoon in August to hunt for Michaelo’s first big steelhead.
The day started out with much anticipation as many of my trips do. I met the guys in the Totem Lake Mall parking lot and we made our way down I-5 to spend the day fishing the Cowlitz River.
We launched the boat at blue creek.
I was down in the count, as early in the morning a Steelhead grabbed my fly on the hang-down. The take was like this: pluck, pluck, grab, head shake, head shake, splash, splash, run towards me, slack. Gone. I’m down 0-1.
I shook my head in frustration as a nice steelhead launched itself horizontal with the river. “Thanks buddy,” I muttered and took a few steps up river to start fishing again.
The morning sun was already beating down all in its path. The sand was hot. The rocks were hot. My dog hid in a shady tangle of brush. The water was warming and I was the last spey fisherman within the two miles of river I covered. Am I crazy? Maybe. Am I confident? Yes. (Read my brother Dave’s article “A confident angler catches the fish”.)
So there I stood, the last spey wielding wizard, in direct sun, with a short head spey line and traditional fly. Just the way I like to fish. “This is the last run. It has to happen here,” I said to myself as I stepped into the water. Pleased that I had the run all to myself, I worked it meticulously. Nearing the last and most promising looking section, a spin fisherman steps in below me. Five cast later, he puts a steelhead on the bank. He makes a few more casts, loses his lure and leaves. Two other spin fishermen step in as well, but further down. “No way,” I mumbled. But as I watched, I noticed they were not fishing the water very well. They left and I kept my rhythm, cast, swing, three steps.
Before long, I was almost to the end. I mean, really–the river turns into a giant white water rumble 35 yards below my fly. Next cast, BAM! Fish on, no questions asked. No plucks. Just all fish mouth. A few minutes later, I had a nice hatchery hen to the bank. I look at my watch, 12:00 pm on the dot.
I could have hung my hat hours earlier with the rest of the spey fishermen, but I didn’t. I could have changed my line and fly, but I didn’t.
I was rewarded.
Always Believe.
