So now its mid 5th grade or so, Im unsure of exact years, so its easier to timestamp with school levels. 5th grade, attending Troutdale grade school. Dad and I are living alone in treehill apartments. Cherie is gone, and it’s just us dudes. We are going “fishing” a lot, although Steelhead fishing seems more like hiking and casting practice to me as I had seen no proof that the fish actually existed, or was in the river we were casting in. he was dragging me to the Sandy River, Nestucca river and other places, and it must have been a year before I actually saw one of these mythical creatures caught. Why the fuck do we get up at 5am, drive 30 minutes, hike 30 minutes, practice casting for 10 hours, when no one has even caught anything?! Not just us, but anyone we saw on the bank. Dad assured me the fish were in the rivers, and to just keep at it….
.PFFFT! At least in Texas we caught bass, catfish, crappie etc. and it was WARM. We’re out the on the river for hours in 30-degree rain practicing casting and hiking for exactly what??! Well, it was the first time I could remember having quality time with Dad I was getting to know my Dad first hand, not from his parents, or my mom etc. yes, we spent time in LA when I was 4 or 5 but memories are so vague.
Eventually I was there when dad caught a steelhead. I was blown away at the size of that monster. It must have been 9 pounds!!? In steelhead terms, not huge, but compared to the biggest bass I ever caught in Texas, 6 pounds, I was blown away. That might have energized my enthusiasm for about an hour, but soon it was back to cold weather practicing for naught.
This agenda played out countless times over many months. Months later, on a a typical east county winter morning we set out to replay the rehearsal, this time on the Sandy River. We woke at the butt crack of dawn. Packed up the gear and drove to Dodge Park, a place we had “fished” before, but this morning there was a change. We hiked downstream a good ways. It was clear a and bitterly cold morning and the east wind was blowing. Probably about 28 degrees. We get to “the spot” dad had been thinking all week was the place to be. Yeah right, my inside voice screamed. We waded out into the river maybe 10 feet or so, breaking through surface ice where the river was freezing against the shore rocks. We probably fished for 20 minutes, when I decided to shift my feet to a more comfortable spot between rocks, having never had hip waders before, I was still getting used to it. One little side step, I stepped on an ice-glazed rock and before I knew it, I was sitting in 40-degree water with an east wind blowing 28 degree air. Dad turned to look and saw what just ruined today’s fishing practice.
He came over and helped me up and consoled me. I was freezing, crying and a little scared he was gonna be pissed, but he was gentle and held me and told me stories of him falling as well.
He said, come on over here and sit. He built a fire on the shore so I could warm up. We sat together talking and enjoying the fire. He took my socks and laid them on a rock near the fire to try and dry them. He wanted to be fishing, but his son, his responsibility, needed him. So he did nothing but just comfort me.
After a few minutes I stood up and said maybe I will just fish to keep warm. He didn’t, he sat by the fire and watched me and coached me. After about 20 minutes I guess, I experienced my first bite.
As far as I knew it was a bite as no one seemed sure what it felt like when the mysterious steelhead takes the bait. I set the hook violently, as I had done 100,000 times or more during previous practices outings. But this time, I had a fish!!..”I got one!!” I screamed. “You sure do!!” Dad barked while rushing to my side to coach me on the fight. I am crying right now reliving this, as it was one of the most bonding moments with my dad. 15- 20 minutes of struggle, coaching and shaking, we landed it,
My first Steelhead, and dads proudest moment all in the same frigid morning. Only to be told we have to let it go. It was a fish that had spawned and was headed back to the ocean to rebuild its muscles and fat for an upriver return the following year. My life changed that morning. I felt close to dad for the first time, and I felt his pride and even some of mine knowing I had done something not many adults did that day, I caught a fucking Steelhead!!
Only someone who has started steelhead fishing can appreciate the gravity of this day.
Thus began a journey of dad and I becoming quite a tandem of fisherman on the sandy river.
More on that to come in future stories, but this one will always be a special memory.