Four Steelhead Produced A Great Day

The Betsie River was low and clear, and guide Mark Rinckey of Honor, Michigan and I were fishing on Dec. 2, just ahead of a snow squall. We were knee-deep in the river, and a slick run opened up to me on the right between a couple of mid-stream log jams. The water flowed dark and deep through the narrow run, and I flipped my spawnbag into the current and ran it down the length to the run before the current took a hard left around the end of the log jam.

The spawnbag washed up onto the shallow sand bar, and a steelhead rolled at the bait as I began reeling it in to cast again. I muttered to Rinckey (231-325-6901) that the fish had missed it. I pitched it back to the same place, and as it came up on the edge of the sand bar the next time, the fish actually came out of the water in a rolling head-to-tail slash at the bait. It missed once again.

Neither time had the fish felt the hook, and the third cast to the same spot, produced a solid take. I tightened into the fish with a stout salute with the rod tip, and the fish was finally hooked. It darted around the logs, and into the current where the fast water bent back to the right before rushing pellmell downstream. "Fish on!," I hollered to Rinckey as I began running downstream after the headstrong fish. The big trout got 40 yards downstream, and jumped once, showing a silvery form that looked to be that of a big fish.

"How big is he?" the guide asked. "It's got to be big to take out line like that."

The fishing I'm holding weighed 12 pounds.

"He's 13-14 pounds," I said, "or perhaps a bit more. There he goes again. This fish is the biggest steelhead I've hooked this fall."

We followed him down the river, and had a 250-yard run, before the fish came to the surface and rolling in the current.  I moved downstream of the fish, and made him fight the current and the rod pressure. It ripped off another 20 yards of line, and I began looking for a decent place to beach the fish. Spotting a narrow spit of sand bar near the bank, I began slowly steering the big steelhead toward my chosen spot to lead the fish into the shallows.

Most of our fish are beached, unhooked, and held it upright in the current until it can swim off under its own power. Rinckey reached down, cradled the fish in both hands, and we quickly admired the fish. This fresh-run steelhead from Lake Michigan was a silver-pearl color with a thin but vivid pink slash along its side, and below the lateral line the flanks were a silvery greenish-blue. It was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous colored steelhead I've landed in several years.

I fumbled with my digital camera for a photo, and just as the buck steelie flipped away from from Rinckey's grasp, the camera told me the disc was full. So, for the lack of a photo of that grand fish, I've indelibly etched its image in my memory bank.

Some days and some fish remain very special.

The day was one of those special times that seldom arrive in early December. The sun was out for a couple of hours, and during that sunny period Rinckey and I landed four fish -- the 14-pounder, a 12-pounder and a pair of 12-pound silvery fish as identical as two porcelain bookends.

Mark led me into another hole with a long smooth run hugging the far bank, and the bottom was as clear of debris as an Interstate highway. Rinckey, the only fulltime boot-foot wading guide on the Betsie and Platte rivers, knows both rivers like he knows the rooms of his home. He knows where fish hold, and he knows where he can roll spawnbags along bottom and where to fish spawnbags under a bobber. Both methods work equally well, and while bobber fishing seems something of an oddity, we've used that method to great advantage for many years.

"Fish the tail-out of that run," he suggested. "Fish from where that bush hangs in the water on downstream. Cast right up tight to the bank, lower your rod tip and keep the line tight. If there's a steelhead in there, it will probably hit on the first or second cast."

He was right about that as he is about most things associated with spring and fall steelhead fishing. The fish jumped on my first cast, and it zoomed to the surface, and jumped once. The fish crashed back into the water with droplets of water flying in all directions like someone had thrown a handful of tiny diamonds near the rambunctious fish. Unlike the larger fish, this 12-pounder chose to stay in the same run where he had been hooked. We duked it out for several minutes before I led it toward shore, reached down to unhook the fish, and gave the steelie its freedom.

Each battle with a steelhead is different.

Rinckey, giving me first chance at two of his hot spots, decided to get involved and soon hooked a 10 pounder that ran and jumped until it could be beached. It was another female, and 30 minutes later he landed another fish of the same size. We discussed how good the fishing had been, and how the time had quickly passed. We were both hungry, and decided to make the one-mile hike back to the car.

There are some who would say that four steelhead in a morning of fishing isn't such a great catch but one wonders how much fishing they've done for this grand game fish. Four fish is an excellent catch although each of us have done much better on various occasions, but any guide must be happy with such a catch.

As for me, I'm still dreaming of the battle and the beauty of that 14-pounder. Any fish that can take out that much line, make three grabs at my spawnbag in shallow water where it could be seen each time, and then produce such a ferocious battle, deserves a special compartment in my memory cells for favorite memories. That way, whenever I care to retrieve that very memory, I can reach in and bring it to mind in short order and relive the catch and unorthodox release at will.

It's odd how one specific fish has the power to capture one's imagination, but I shall remember that particular fish for the rest of my fishing days.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors