Sepia toned, curled at the edges, and stuck to a hardware store bulletin board with a thumb tack. That’s kind of how I see all winter hatchery steelhead photo’s. A tradition of cold hands, jovial shared misery, and miraculously strong bright fish that blast out of dark water.
Sometime around noon the sun finally reaches the tops of the leafless alder trees and sheds a little warmth on the southern most bends in the river. A fish here, a fish there, a little flurry of action around two o’clock and then it’s time to think about hitting the take out before it gets too cold to even think about filleting fish.
I am not sure why these days seem to be the ones I remember the most clearly. But they are some of my favorites of the year.
Jim Kerr
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Jim,
I had a great time on the trip this past Saturday. That's for all of the tips. We cooked one fish for dinner on Saturday. The other two went to my buddies in the other boat (the ones who didn't catch anything).
Do me a favor and send me the pics from this weekend.
Thanks again,
Josh