Last Mt. Hood Trip of the Year: October 19, 2014

Another year of fishing has passed. Although we in Oregon have been luckily given a long and fruitful summer, these days are drawing to a close. Although there will still be winter steelhead and tailwater redsides to be caught, the days of fishing without three layers of long johns are essentially over for the year. However, I was able to squeeze in one last trip before the buckets of snow would start dumping on the mountain.

There are fish in there.

Many of the Mt. Hood streams fish extremely well into the fall, especially since there are many important insect hatches that the river doesn't get for most of the year. The ultra-buoyant dries that are essential for the fast current work year-round, but they are especially effective when similar-sized flies are flitting about. 

It took longer than it should have to get this fish in position.

It was a grim reminder how broken and beat up my gear is. One rod (the one I busted at the Deschutes the last time I was there) was broken and waiting to be repaired, and the other had a reel that was attached via a rubber band. This reel belonged to the original rod, and I had to transplant it because the existing reel had also fallen apart. Since nothing was hatching when I first got to the river, I used a small spinning rod with a nymph instead. 

Mt. Hood streams have a mysterious quality to them. Being shrouded in rarely-ventured woods, you always wonder what could be hiding itself among the trees. Although you rarely see other people, there are regular reminders of their presence, hidden in the shadows of the woods. Seriously, I'm pretty sure people live there. I'm not talking about camping, but full-blown residence.

The message written on the rock is "be love," something that would be said by hippies. Or people who work at New Seasons.

Moving up in the river, I switched my spinning rod for the broken fly rod. Even though the reel was hanging by a thread, I was able to manage and began immediately catching fish on a "Kam's Caddis." Although it was a complete zoo, I only took a few photos, focusing on safe and quick releases. The current between me and the productive pools was swift and not ideal for resuscitating exhausted fish. Besides, I had forgotten my waterproof phone case at home and I risked losing hundreds of dollars and the phone numbers of over twenty girls with each step.

I also caught a few fish that I am almost positive were cutbows. Cutbows can be tricky to identify since Coastal Cutthroat and Rainbow Trout look similar to begin with. However, there are still important traits to identify them from one another. For one, any trout with red throat markings are cutthroats. Unless you forgot your hemostats and were using a treble hooked lure, the red throat marks are key features of Cutthroats. In addition, a mature Cutthroat will be nearly completely covered in spots, like a leopard, and only have a faint pink stripe. Rainbows, on the other hands, have brighter stripes and are largely absent of ventral spots (at least where the distinct stripe is present). There were a number of fish that showed clear traits of both species.

There was also a Brookie mixed in, a relatively uncommon catch in the river. As I was reeling it in, I noticed the distinct spawning hues of this species and rushed to net it in the fast current. Although Brook Trout look different from non-char trout, they also feel different, having proportionally larger heads and heavier builds. I also continued my infamous streak of horribly botching pictures of this species (see http://mthoodfishing.blogspot.com/2014_08_01_archive.html)

Keep in mind that it's legal for me to eat you. If you had waited ONE more second...

After catching a number of fish from the same pool, I began working my way upstream. Although the hackle on my Kam's Caddis had been shredded to nothing and my reel had finally popped loose of its bearings, I was still able to fish. Holding the reel in one hand and the rod in the other may have been a pain, but I was still able to hook into the last  fish of the day.

One person I showed this to thought it was a sea-run fish. That's a good thing.

Not huge, but a nice fish for the river. Since my tackle was practically disintegrating, I figured it was high time to start climbing back up the cliff to the car. Although the trout fishing was over for the year, and I would have to start transitioning to other things, in many regards the cyclical nature of life is what keeps the forces of nature intertwined and the coming seasons ones to be cherished. I have no idea what that meant, but I'm keeping it that way.