Taking a rowing break
I had just caught one of those magical fish...sucking down a celebratory cold beer. "Lodge Riffle just ahead.
The Steelie was into the 20 year old backing of the old Pfluger "Medalist" in just three shakes of it's broad tail. Up and down the the hole called "Boise"...one of my favorites with out a doubt.
Six pound tippet for a six pound fish...right? Problem was I had already caught a "few" with out retying or even checking the leader.
The soft tip of the Winston rod helped with the fray quite well. The hook fell out of the stealhead's mouth as soon as I netted the chromed beauty.
A young man ran into the spot ten feet below my anchored boat I had been fishing in total solace for a couple of hours. He stood and cast while standing in the exact spot of the last fish I had hooked.
He asked to see the fish, I obliged just before slipping the slab back into the river. He said he was just learning, me too I replied.
As I pulled the anchor to slip on by...I also mentioned that I still am learning...for the last 35 years.
I could hear his rod crashing through the air with every stroke.
He was the only person I saw during the 15 mile float that day....