Hell or High Water By Jeremiah Houle Photos by Joey Houle

Winter in the Pacific Northwest brings to mind towering trees and lush undergrowth, moist from massive storms that ripen over the Pacific. Rivers swell to unimaginable volumes during the short days of winter and drop almost as quickly as they rise. Debris surrounding the river and sediment accumulated during the low flows of summer now get swiftly escorted downstream, turning the usually clear water into a cold, turbid current. Slabs of silver veiled with a black back and translucent fins sneak out of the cold, dark ocean during these flows. Returning to freshwater after 2 or more years in the salt, these sexually mature winter steelhead ascend the raging torrents of the steep coastal river systems, seeking the very water in which they themselves were spawned. Usually carrying a few more pounds than their summertime cousins, their size and power seem to perfectly compliment the challenging conditions and time of year in which they make this journey. So how do we most effectively target, engage, hook, land, and release these these impressive ocean going fish?

“Timing” Since winter-time rivers usually run much bigger, colder and less clear, than they do in the warm days of summer… I rely on my phone’s FishHead app, and the USGS and NOAA websites to constantly feed me information on the latest water flows and weather patterns. This is the homework needed to give yourself a fighting chance. While I obsess over these websites I am constantly searching for what I call “the Drop”. No, I am not talking about a Skrillex song. I’m talking about the sexy downward slope on a hydrograph that indicates a decreasing flow. When the relentless downpours slow, the forest’s dense vegetation and sponge-like soil absorb the recent precipitation, and the river’s flows (measured in cubic feet per second CFS) drop to fishable levels. Keep track of this. When is it too high? Too low? Making a mental note, or even better, making an actual note can help plan future trips.

“Rods, Lines, and Flies” When the water starts getting big so do my flies. I like bigger, darker flies in off-colored water… allowing their silhouette to stand out against a lighter background. The lightweight Scandi line setup my clients and I use all summer and into the fall now gets swapped for the short, heavy Skagit line that is necessary to deliver T-something tips and three to five inch long winter flies. My light 6-weight spey that is perfect for our Deschutes summer steelhead lacks the backbone to

power to handle these quick-sinking tips and thick winter fish. In winter, out come my 7 and 8 weight two-handed rods. I like rods in the range of 12 to 13 ft. They allow me to make long distance casts on wide rivers, and also allow me to control the line after those long casts. Occasionally switch rods, or mini-speys as I like to call them, in the range of ~11 ft will excel in the wooded confines of a coastal river. Winter is the time of year gear gets pushed to the limits. Wading jackets have to keep anglers dry during the ever present rain; waders withstand long walks through thick, piercing vegetation; and wading boots try to stay locked in place while wading in heavy wintertime flows. The industry’s top gear companies gain their merits putting their products against the challenging fishing conditions of the great Pacific Northwest.

In the cold flows of winter I focus on getting my fly down quickly and keeping it down throughout the swing. This starts with fly design, moves to the length of leader, followed by the size and density of the sink tip, and finally through to the Skagit head. I like my flies to have big volume while minimizing material. To maximize sink rate I keep my leaders short, using 3-5 feet of stout 15 lb. Maxima tippet. This allows me to quickly land Wild Steelhead, minimizing fatigue, and then return them to the water to continue their journey upriver. While fishing I never want to drag the bottom, however, I do want to ensure that throughout my swing I am deep enough to be near a lethargic winter steelhead. My starting quarterback sink tip is 12 ft T-14 with looped tips. Since the ends of spey heads are looped as well, changing tips to adjust sink rate is effortless. Be mindful that the designated sink rates on tips are under “ideal conditions”. In faster water, or with tension on the tip, you won’t be getting the sink rate that’s on the package. A quick way to change the depth of your swing is to change the angle and dead drift of your fly and line. If your usual cast is straight across the river and you start tapping bottom, angle a little more downstream. This allows for less sink before the tension builds and your fly starts to do its job. As you work down a run, you should constantly evaluate your next cast to make sure you are giving yourself the best shot at a grab.

For our smaller coastal rivers, the floating Skagit Compact lines from Airflo are perfect. These lines allow me to mend and adjust for the pockets and seams that spring up in a run. When I want to get my sink tip down and keep it down, my choice is the intermediate Airflo Skagit Compact. The best part of the intermediate Skagit is that it breaks through the tension on the water’s surface, keeping your fly deeper throughout the entire swing. For some reason, it also feels like my fly swings slower. I’m not sure if this true or just a weird mind trick, but either way, I like it. As my fly swings I’m ok with a little speed. I’m a firm believer that steelhead are curious creatures and that a moving fly peaks their interest. I also like to show those fish how much work I put into tying my fly, so I show it to them broadside or at least a quartering-away view. In darker winter-time water, I like tying big flies that move and undulate in the water. Less is more when tying these flies and I strive for the materials in my flies to complement one another. For example, I use stiff materials to hold up softer materials, allowing them to appear much bigger without using more material. Thin bodies and less material help these flies sink quicker. Ostrich and Rhea fly-tying materials give tons of movement and the appearance of a full body appearance while allowing minimal materials to be put on the fly. It also goes without saying that a small, trailer style hook does much less damage than a large hook, and pinching down the barb

helps when removing the hook from a fish, or an angler in the event of an errant cast.

“Reading the water” One thing I see over and over again is people fishing unproductive water. Most of us don’t get as much time on the water as we would like, so maximize your chances of connecting to a steelhead by making sure your fly is in fishy water. A great thing to do is take a picture or write down some details when you hook a steelhead. Over time you will start to see a pattern and gravitate towards good water. For most steelhead runs, I like water that is 2-6 feet deep and walking speed. The depth is a variable, I’ve hooked steelhead at the top of a run in what seems like a foot of water

and I’ve also caught them in water much deeper, but by sticking to that outline will prevent you from wasting valuable time on water that’s moving too quickly, too slowly, too shallow, or too deep. Now for the really good stuff… find a run with some boulders strewn throughout. That creates some nice soft spots for those steelhead to rest on their upstream journey. Seams are also something to pay attention to, but look at them differently than you would

when you trout fish. Remember, we are swinging flies across the river here, not dead-drifting flies into their face. The seam might be a 20 foot section of your swing. Here is the most important part of this whole equation, have confidence. Confidence in your swing, confidence in the run you’re fishing, and confidence in your fly.

If you swing it, they will grab… eventually. If you’re in the right spots (and fishing well) it will happen. We all hear about “unicorns” and “ghosts” and the “fish of a thousand casts” and when swinging flies for steelhead, to a certain extent… it’s all true. If you eliminate junk water and fish great holding runs all day your chances of hooking a steelhead greatly increases. I try not to chase the hot river. By the time you get there, it might not be so hot. I am more concerned with water levels then someone’s report. Find a river that’s maybe nearby or just one you love to be in and stick with it. Learn its runs. Find out at what flow it fishes best. Remember where you have hooked fish in the past. This, over a winter season, is your best bet to get into more fish. I am not saying you shouldn’t explore new water, but knowing your water is a good idea when you want to make the most out of your time there. Steelheading is not easy and it shouldn’t be. The challenge helps you appreciate everything about these fish, the random spotting on the back, the faint pink blush on the cheeks of a beautiful hen, or the deep red stripe of a buck that has battled

his way through the roughest of waters. I still have more trips then I would like to admit that end up in “naw.. but I got a grab”. And I’m okay with that.

True steelheaders are seduced by the aggressive grabs, the elusiveness of these fish, and how difficult it can be to hook one. A fish that inspires so much passion and devotion deserves the same passion and devotion in return. Remember that in almost every West Coast river, Steelhead are either threatened or endangered. Although catching one of these amazing creatures, does briefly interferes with their migration upstream, there are a few things you can do to ensure the healthy return of each one to the water. First is to use strong tippet. If a fish is grabbing a 5in Intruder fly they don’t care about 2x or 15 lb Maxima. With stronger tippet you can bring these fish quickly to hand, and then get them back on their way. Landing fish in deeper water is crucial, but often overlooked. Beaching fish or dragging them into shallow water leaves them vulnerable to bonking themselves. It just takes one headshake to slam their head against a rock and kill themselves. Also, that laying on the ground look is horrible. No one wants to see your fish covered in dirt laying next to your rod. If you’re fishing with a buddy or are around a boat I always have a large, soft net to land fish. Leave those old school knotted nets at home, or better yet, cut them up and throw them in the trash. That style of net removes the protective slime coating and increases the chance of damage to the fish. With modern rubber or soft nets you can land them quicker and in deeper water… minimizing handling time. Steelhead are magnificent creatures, and I love getting a quick picture with them. A small memento that is truly worth a thousand words. We can take pictures a certain way to minimize the harm on these fish. If you’re fishing alone, get a cool, in the water, body shot. With a good angle the picture looks great and you’re not harming it for the sake of a hashtag. If you are fishing with someone, I keep the fish completely in the water until my buddy with the camera is ready to go. Lens cap off, power on, I’m in focus and everything is perfect. I will do a 3-2-1 countdown and with a quick lift out of the water, the fish dripping with water, the picture is taken and the fish is returned immediately to the water. This fraction of a second out of water is as harmless as we can get. The water dripping off the fish looks great and brings a little action and life to the picture.

These fish epitomize the beauty of the Pacific Northwest. It is my hope that you learn to appreciate these fish as much I do. With populations in the Pacific Northwest a mere 1-2% of their historic numbers … Steelhead need more advocates than ever. Have confidence in your fly. Have confidence in your swing. Pay your dues and hold on tight.

Jeremiah is a fly fishing guide in Bend, Oregon, for Deep Canyon Outfitters. When not chasing steelhead, he spends his winter months working and teaching at Confluence Fly Shop.

Joey is a photographer from northern California that loves the outdoors, fly fishing, and rock climbing. www.Joeyhoule.com

STEELHEAD AT A CROSSROADS By WILL ATLAS Photos by WILL ATLAS

Steelhead at a crossroads: time for a new approach to providing fisheries

Over the last decade, steelhead fishing has seen a massive explosion in popularity around the Pacific Northwest. With the growth in interest has come a proliferation of glossy multi-page articles, hero videos, tackle options, and of course an increase in pressure on many rivers in our region. This growth in interest however, belies the reality that populations of steelhead are in decline, depressed to the point that they warrant listing under the Endangered Species Act (ESA) in all but a few areas of the Lower 48. Nowhere has this been felt more acutely in recent years than in the Puget Sound region of Washington State, where storied rivers like the Skagit, Sauk, Skykomish and Nooksack have been closed even to catch and release angling opportunities for wild steelhead.

While the increasing pressure and declining populations of wild steelhead is a worrisome trend, there is hope that increased interest and awareness amongst anglers and the general public can catalyze positive change. Simply put, what we need is a total re-visioning of how we manage steelhead fisheries. This vision must emphasize the conservation of habitat and wild populations of steelhead, and the beloved fisheries that are created when we simply let the fish do what they’ve done for thousands of years. More specifically that means ending our reliance on hatcheries.

Over the past 70 years hatchery programs have spread like a blight across the region, and today the majority of major rivers in Washington, Oregon, Idaho and California receive annual releases of hatchery reared steelhead smolts numbering in the tens to hundreds of thousands. While these programs appeal to our society’s impulse to manipulate nature to our own benefit, finding technological solutions to what appear to be intractable environmental issues, they run into two major problems. They don’t work very well as a means of providing fishing opportunity and they do serious harm to populations of wild steelhead. Hatchery fish are genetically and ecologically inferior to their wild cousins.

Born and reared in a hatchery raceway they complete two absolutely critical steps of their life-history, spawning and juvenile rearing, in an environment that is entirely free of natural selection and which imposes strong domestication selection for traits that are beneficial in captivity. As a result, hatchery fish experience dismally poor survival during oceanic migrations, and upon return to rivers they often stray from hatchery collection facilities, spawning with wild fish and producing offspring with lower survival and less genetic diversity. That’s not to mention the ecological effects that millions of hatchery fish are likely having as competitors for food, or the fact that massive predictable hatchery releases support artificially high numbers of predators which in turn predate heavily on co-migrating wild fish. Taken together, this multitude of

impacts serves to depress the productivity of wild steelhead populations, hindering their ability to reach their full productive and diverse potential.

A massive and ever growing body of research supports the notion that large-scale hatcheries are fundamentally incompatible with healthy populations of wild fish, and a growing number of case studies from around the Pacific Northwest demonstrate clearly that when we eliminate hatchery programs, wild steelhead populations respond favorably. Indeed, many of the best stories of conservation and recovery successes have come when state and federal managers opted to close hatchery programs and let wild fish recover unhindered by hatchery impacts.

The rivers of the Puget Sound region provide a telling parable into the failings of hatcheries and the dire need for a different vision of steelhead fisheries, one which hinges on the protection of wild fish and the obvious love that anglers have for catching and releasing these beautiful fish. Growing up in the Seattle area, I cut my steelheading teeth on the Skykomish, Skagit and Sauk Rivers, catching my first wild steelhead and falling head over heels for the rivers and fish that call them home. Sadly, over the last fifteen years we’ve seen the continued erosion of opportunities to fish these rivers during steelhead season. Populations have been listed as threatened under the Endangered Species Act, and catastrophic flooding in the mid-2000s coupled with poor marine survival led to record low returns of wild steelhead in 2009 and 2010 to these once prolific rivers. Fisheries in the Puget Sound have hit rock bottom, hindered by a century of habitat destruction and the failure of our state managers to envision alternative strategies for providing fishing opportunity. The result has been an explosion in fishing pressure on the west end of the Olympic Peninsula, home to the few populations of wild steelhead the state still deems “healthy”.

In early December of 2014, the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife (WDFW) announced that the Nooksack River in Northwestern Washington was to be closed to fishing. The reason: to allow the hatchery program in the watershed to get enough fish to reach their egg take goal. The river has been closed to protect hatchery fish. Unfortunately this occurrence has become commonplace over the last decade as hatchery programs in Puget Sound (and around the state for that matter) have failed to produce even enough returning fish to support their own existence. These programs cost state taxpayers millions of dollar, and are counterproductive to the goal of recovering ESA listed wild steelhead in the region. So why is WDFW continuing to run these programs?

Because the hatchery programs are an entrenched and broken part of the department, and leadership has been unwilling or unable to consider alternative approaches to providing fishing opportunity. At WDFW the first two tenants of the departmental mission are: 1) Conserve and protect native fish and wildlife and 2) Provide sustainable fishing and hunting. The department's apparent answer to their mission of conserving fish and providing sustainable fishing? Spending millions of dollars on hatcheries that are so ineffective that they force fishing closures to protect the returning fish as broodstock, and failing to provide opportunity in Puget Sound and around the state because of a lack of a vision for how to protect wild fish while providing fishing

opportunities. Hatchery populations are tanking all over the region, while on the Skagit and other North Puget Sound rivers the last two years have seen some of the best returns of wild steelhead in decades. These rivers could have easily supported catch and release fisheries through the end of April with negligible impacts on steelhead populations, but instead they were closed to fishing.

The Nooksack, like every other river in Puget Sound, was set to close on January 31, 2015, eliminating opportunity for three months of catch and release angling for wild steelhead. While steelhead populations are undeniably depressed in these rivers, the State could and should manage these rivers to support opportunities for anglers to fish, and do so in ways that minimize impacts on ESA listed populations to the greatest extent possible. This would hardly set a precedent for battle with federal managers at the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), the federal agency tasked with enforcing the ESA. Steelhead are listed in the majority of rivers in the Lower 48, but when State management agencies make providing catch and release opportunities a priority, NOAA has by and large conceded. As a result, fishing is open throughout the entire steelhead season in most areas of Oregon, Idaho, and Northern California, despite the presence of listed steelhead populations. NOAA does this because they know that for the most part these fisheries have very little impact on population trajectories and they're extremely popular with anglers, supporting millions of dollars of economic activity around our region every year.

Even in Puget Sound WDFW has gone to battle to protect salt-water sport fisheries for ESA listed Chinook, getting NOAA to agree on "recovery harvest rates". While these fisheries are less biologically defensible because they allow anglers to harvest ESA listed Chinook, they illustrate a key point, the ESA does not necessarily guarantee a perpetual end to fishing as we've seen in Puget Sound. Rather, it compels State managers to defend the decisions they make with some minimal level of biological justification. WDFW has been more than willing to do this for expensive, failing hatchery programs, so why not for catch and release fisheries for wild steelhead which are ostensibly free for the State?

It's time for managers around our region to think differently and change their priorities when it comes to steelhead management. The hatchery paradigm has failed so miserably over the past two decades that any rational observer will agree that there really isn't another defensible choice. Agencies could improve monitoring, enforcement and creel surveys at a fraction of the cost of the current hatchery operations. With this information and an enforcement regime in place, we can sustainably manage catch and release fishing in the region, setting thresholds for impacts on wild populations, and conducting in season management accordingly.

To make this change happen we need a community of engaged angler advocates who support the conservation and recovery of wild steelhead populations. To their credit, WDFW has been slowly moving in the right direction, and in the past few years they’ve designated the Sol Duc, East Fork Lewis, Wind, and North Fork Toutle as wild steelhead management zones, meaning these rivers will no long receive plants of hatchery steelhead. Recently, in a legal settlement with the

Wild Fish Conservancy, they also agreed to a ten-year moratorium on releasing hatchery steelhead in the Skagit and Sauk rivers. All of these decisions represent major steps forward for the wild steelhead in Washington State, but they are not without their critics amongst anglers who are uninformed or refuse to believe that hatcheries hinder the recovery of wild steelhead. In the face of this opposition our management agencies need to hear from us with affirmation that protecting wild steelhead, and providing opportunities where possible for catch and release should be at the forefront of their priorities. So get involved, speak up for the rivers and fish, and we can realize the goal of recovering wild steelhead.

If you want to get involved check out a few organizations doing great work around our region:

The Native Fish Society (http://nativefishsociety.org/) The Wild Steelhead Coalition (http://wildsteelheadcoalition.org/) The Osprey (http://www.ospreysteelhead.org/) The Steelhead Society of BC (http://www.steelheadsociety.org/) Wild Fish Conservancy (http://wildfishconservancy.org/) Watershed Watch (http://www.watershed-watch.org/) Trout Unlimited’s Wild Steelheaders United (http://www.wildsteelheaders.org/)

Will Atlas is a biologist and writer interested in conservation of coastal ecosystems, with an focus on salmon ecology. Will is currently completing his PhD at Simon Fraser University, British Columbia.

ACCOMPLISHMENT BY EMMA BELL Photos by EMMA BELL As soon as my alarm went off I looked out the window. Between the darkness filling the sky and the pouring down rain, I had half a mind to curl back up into the pile of pillows on my bed, call my friend and tell him I wasn’t going to make it to the river that day. After about 2 minutes of pondering, I let out a whine and told myself I needed to get up because there was a river full of fish waiting to meet the end of my line. We launched the boat under a bank of fog that hung above the river like a scene from a horror movie. We set up our gear and before no time the sun started to rise. It was time to go. Not only was I the only woman on the boat, but I was also the only fly fisher. I’m not one to judge, so the fact that these specific friends of mine chose to throw bait instead of feathers didn’t bother me too much. They, however, thought it would be fun to let out some humorous judgment on their part, telling me they would be surprised if I caught anything on my rod. It was at that moment I became ridiculously determined to prove them wrong. With each drift I whispered to myself “come on, you’ve got this”. Now, I don’t have a whole lot of experience fishing for steelhead, so knowing where to place a cast is a bit of a foreign concept. Only 20 minutes into the day, I saw a spot just along an underwater ledge and had a gut feeling that’s where my fly needed to be. I made a very precise cast to the far side of the river. As my line hit the water, I watched the fly begin to sink below the surface and after only a matter of seconds…. BAM! A flash of silver shot up from the darkness and nailed my fly. I proclaimed a very loud “Holy sh*t!” and a million thoughts ran through my brain, including “what do I do now?!”. Somehow, whether intuition or luck, every epic steelheading video I have ever watched hit me, and I knew exactly how to play that fish. The entire boat was screaming with excitement and my heart was racing a million beats per minute as I watched that beautiful hen jump out of the water four times, shoot upriver tearing the line from my reel, and feeling a bend in my rod that I had never experienced. Once brought to hand, I admired every detail of that fish before realizing… I had finally caught my first steelhead. To me, that sense of accomplishment is what it is all about. It’s about that moment when you gain confidence on the river, because you made the right move and caught the fish that has been defeating you for the past 2 years. That is a feeling that can never be taken away. THAT is what it’s all about.

WHERE THE WILD THINGS WERE BY ALLISON OLIVER Photos by

At the break of dawn, we are on the water. It is cold but not frigid, and our breaths send lazy, lofty puffs of moisture rolling up into the still morning air. In this country, you feel small. There is plenty to remind you of that: the mountain skyline at first or last light, the groaning glaciers, the shadows of wolves and bears darting just beyond sight, the frost-heave erosion that loosens rocks and sends them crashing into the river beside you, old growth Douglas Fir piled into impassably high log jams. And then of course, there is the river. The Skeena River originates in the southern end of the Spatsizi Plateau in northwestern British Columbia, and flows southwest 350 mi into Chatham Sound. Draining roughly 21,000 mi2 of watershed with a mean annual discharge of 62,000 ft3/sec, it’s an impressive mother of a mainstem. With the largest wild run of steelhead left in the world, and vast stretches of water for a variety of angling options, the Skeena River and her tributaries are well known in the angling world as salmon and steelheading “paradise”. Although hatcheries were historically proposed and attempted, in current times there are none on the Skeena. This is a landscape for wild fish. And on this pale early-winter morning, that is why we are here: wild steelhead.

We are having a good day. We were able to navigate our vehicle, albeit dangerously, up the frozen access road to the put-in, and although we are fishing while standing on bank ice, the river itself hasn’t begun to freeze up, and the water clarity is just about damn perfect. The guides on our rods are clear, and our lines are shooting out in perfect loops. Downstream, a rod snaps up, and the dance begins. Seconds later, I feel a tug and headshake on my own rod. It’s 8:30am, and we are doubled up. We double land, release, smile, laugh, high-five, breath, and get back to it.

Yes, this is paradise… but is this paradise actually a shadow of it’s formal self? And for whatever version of paradise we are experiencing now, will we be able to keep it this way? Today, there are few places left we call “paradise” that haven’t been heavily altered by humans. Rivers and ocean ecosystems around the planet face stressors from both acute and creeping stressors. Climate change alone leaves virtually no place immune or untouched by human influence, but the more obvious and dramatic stressors are the localized, large impact perturbations. Habitat loss, river impoundment (e.g. dams, reservoirs), flow alteration, hatcheries, invasive species, landscape alteration (e.g. logging, dredging, channelization), mining, urbanization, impervious surface and road construction… the list goes on and on. The Skeena watershed, although still a rugged and awe-inspiring reminder of wildness, is far from devoid of perturbations, and new development projects are continuously being brought to the table. For example, the large alpine basin that is the headwaters and source of the Skeena, Nass, and Stikine Rivers, deemed the “Sacred Headwaters” by local First Nations such as the Tahltan, is under ongoing threats of development of an open pit coal mine by both the BC province and private companies. While oil and gas extraction was banned from this area in 2012, coal exploration was not ruled out, and the Sacred Headwaters are far from protected.

The most ominous issue currently threatening the Skeena, and more specifically the storied Skeena tributaries of the Morice and Copper Rivers, is the Enbridge Northern Gateway

Pipeline Project. This project proposes the development of two pipelines carrying crude oil and condensate from the tar sands in northern Alberta, to a proposed holding, refining, and port facility in Kittimat, BC, where it will then largely be exported to Asia. The pipeline would require 1000’s of stream crossings, including 100’s over the Morice and Copper Rivers, two of the largest salmon producing tributaries in the Skeena drainage. The pipeline’s course and holding facilities have already been surveyed and clear cut, despite disapproval by First Nations and the general public in the province of British Columbia. In addition to the disturbance incurred during the development process, the additional danger is that the pipelines leak or spill, potentially creating catastrophic damage to water quality, habitat, and populations of fish and wildlife. Of course, resource extraction in the region is not new, the present day communities were founded upon logging and fisheries. But if we aren’t careful, increasing pressure for energy resources, on top of decades of previous harvest and development, may have potential to accelerate the rate of change, or push the system into a new ecological regime, one that might not be easily restored. We may soon find ourselves skating dry flies over or under the shadow of an oil pipeline. Whether over time there will be any fish remaining there to take that fly is unknown.

Back on the river, at the end of our fishing day we are happy, cold, tired, but fulfilled. Between 4 spey rods, a total of 15 wild steelhead were brought to hand. We click our headlamps on and hit the trail up from the take out. After a day of swinging up 15 wild steelhead, it seems difficult to imagine things could have ever been better? There is a concept in ecology called the “shifting baseline syndrome”, which describes a gradual shift away from natural conditions. Basically, as the perception of ecological change varies from generation to generation, it causes a

continual lowering of standards and the acceptance of more degraded ecosystems and changes in populations to be the new “normal” condition. There is no doubt that this is happening worldwide, and the Skeena is no exception. Of course, it’s very difficult if not impossible to know the size of the historic steelhead runs, and what yearly, monthly, or daily variability in those populations and the timing of all of those runs was then versus now. As a result, we lack a clear reference point for historical conditions, and while scientific studies in this region are gaining momentum, we still have much (most?) to learn. So if we don’t know where we started, how can we ever expect to get back? Unfortunately, in most cases, we never can but we can protect what we have. In camp that night we cheers with whiskey, and celebrate the magic of our day and of the fish that shared their time with us. We look to the sky and our smart phones, and discuss conditions and plans for the morning. Groggily we climb into our trucks and our tents and relax into sleep, sheltered from the cold, snow-frosted air, and the massive darkness of the sky. As we drift off, we acknowledge that while the Skeena makes us feel individually small, as a collective of humans we can have big and long-lasting impacts. There was a time when these rivers were truly wild, and in a way they still are, but we need to not lose sight of what has already been lost, and the potential to lose more. The steelhead haven’t forgotten their home, and we shouldn’t either.

To learn more about issues of science and conservation on the Skeena River please visit:

- Skeena Wild Conservation Trust, http://skeenawild.org/ - Pacific Salmon Foundation, https://www.psf.ca/ - “Casting A Voice” a short documentary film about pipelines, the Skeena, and steelhead, http://vimeo.com/78876102

Allison Oliver is an aquatic ecologist and biogeochemist post doctoral fellow at the University of Alberta. She currently lives in North Vancouver, British Columbia where she conducts research on the rivers and ocean of the BC Coast with the Hakai Institute (www.hakai.org). In her free time, she prefers two-handed rods, steelhead, and bicycles. She is current editor of The Backcast Magazine. For more information please contact her at hhbackcast@gmail.com

Bjorn Ostby’s Goth Angel Written by Heather Hodson, Photos by Heather Hodson, Fly Designer Bjorn Ostby of www.catchflyfish.com

Fly designers Bjorn Ostby and Britten Jay of Catch Fly Fishing believe, “the tug is the drug”. The 2014 steelhead season on the Clearwater, Snake and Grand Ronde Rivers has been pretty incredible and will hopefully continue through the winter. As many of you know, the elusive steelhead can live up to the name “fish of a thousand casts”, but this year has been different and fate has been good to the Catch Fly Fishing guys. Of the seven fish caught by Britten this fall, five of have been on the swing using the Goth Angel. Britten has joked that he’s going to get rid of all his other flies and from now on only fish Bjorn Ostby’s Goth Angel. With it’s contrasting dark and bright colors and long feather fibers, this fly comes alive in the water. Bottom line, this fly is sexy and slays steelhead!!

MaterialsShank – 40mm Fish Skull Senyo’s Articulated Steelhead/Salmon Shank Trailing Hook - Gamakatsu Octopus Size #4Wire - Senyo’s Standard Intruder Trailer Hook Wire (For Hook Size 6 or Larger)Dumbell Eyes – 5/32 Nickel Spirit River DAZL –EYESBody – Ice Dub UV Purple Support Collar - Ice Dub UV Black

Arctic Fox King Fisher BlueArctic Fox White

Front Hackle - Black MirabeauOstrich HerlPurple Grizzly Saddle Hackle

Head - Angel Hair-Steelhead Ice

Instructions

1. Creat a thread base along the entire length of the shank. Tie on the intruder wire (about 4 lengths of the shank) and leave enough of a loop to tie on a #4 octopus hook. Tie intruder wire to ¾ length of shank. Apply zap-a-gap along the intruder wire and shank. Double the intruder wire back and tie down. Clip any excess intruder wire. Glue and tie down dumbbell eyes on bottom of shank. Wrap thread back to rear of shank.

2. Dub purple UV Ice Dub from back of hook shank to ¾ of the shank.

3. Create dubbing loop with black UV Ice Dub. Pick out trapped fibers with bobkin and make 4-5 wraps.

4. Place king fisher blue arctic fox in a dubbing loop, pick out trapped fibers, and make 3-4 wraps.

5. Place white arctic fox in a dubbing loop. Pick out trapped fibers, and make 3-4 wraps.

6. Tie in black marabou by the tip and make 3-4 wraps.

7. Place 8-10 strands of ostrich herl in a dubbing loop. Stroke herls back as you wrap the dubbing loop around the shank.

8. Tie in 2 purple grizzly saddle hackles on top of the shank. Double the stem back over so

it doesn’t pull out. Tie in to secure.

9. Place the purple Angel Hair in dubbing loop. (Make sure to create a longer dubbing loop to figure eight over the eyes multiple times). Pick out any trapped Angel Hair fibers.

Wrap the dubbing loop forward with a few wraps behind the head. Figure 8 dubbing loop around the dumbbell eyes. Make a wrap in front of dumbbell eyes and whip finish.

10.Tidy up any trapped or errant materials. Attach the hook to the intruder wire.

11. Slay steelhead.

10 things I (almost) love more then winter steelhead By Leslie Ajari As a steelhead fanatic, there are few things I love more than catching a dime bright winter steelie. However, upon reflection, there are ten things that are just as good, or come very close…

1. Taking a kid fishing. Teaching the next generation of fisher-people sustainable angling techniques and resource management is one of the most rewarding things I have ever done. Ever.

2. Fishing with my father. This has been a favorite since I was ten when he first started teaching me to fish. I suppose these wonderful memories are what prompted the previous item on my list….

3. Swinging for your fish. Winter steelhead are wonderful as long as you catch them in a legal and sustainable manner and there is nothing more magical than catching one on the swing. That jolt of energy you get when a fish grabs and hangs onto your fly is priceless. To me, my spey rod is like a paintbrush for a painter; a way to create something tangible and beautiful.

4. As fishermen and women, we can all agree there’s nothing that can compare to arriving home to find a postal package on your doorstep with a shipping sticker from your favorite fishing company. Opening that package always gives me the feeling that my birthday came early.

5. Fishing can be an art form, and nailing a technical cast with a perfect mend never ceases to put a smile on my face. An even better reward is watching a fish boil to the surface and sip the fly.

6. Two words: Dry flies. Fishing a dry fly was the first technique I learned in fly fishing. I love the grace and visual aspect of this type of fishing.

7. Catching a fish on your own fly. This is the ultimate trickery that you can play on a fish. Catching a fish on your selection of gear, from the knots in your leader, to tippet selection, to the choice in fly materials validates that you have found a winning combination.

8. Winter steelheading brings challenges. It’s largely about timing. However, there is nothing like enjoying a day off when the rivers are too blown to fish. Whether it’s reading a book, exploring an abandoned beach or getting your zen on with some yoga, it never feels like a wasted day.

9. Beer and whiskey. Need I say more? The perfect fishing companions. 10. Spending a day on the water with my dog Marlee is the best. Any one who owns a dog

can agree that any time spent out there with your four-legged buddy is a day well spent.