With only a few weeks left to our season and the ever increasing amount of preparations to look after before the big fat guy comes down the chimney, a good friend and I made the last minute decision to take advantage of the opening in our schedules. I had just fished several days prior, coming home with fishy gloves. The river was a smidge higher and more coloured than what I consider as “prime”. I had also heard that it fished better the day after I was there. We could only guesstimate where they could be on the system and plan accordingly.

Brad offered to drive which turned out to be the better. On our way up, our speed was reduced to 60km/hour as the snow was coming down nicely and blanketing the road. My car would have been all over. We eventually got stuck behind a salt truck. Though we were not in a rush as I figured not too many would be out, the reduced paced with an obstructed view ahead did not necessarily agree with two anglers whom were having visions of steelhead dancing in their heads.

There was a calming that came over me when we got out of the car. Not another vehicle around and the river still had a good clip to her and the colour mixed quite nice. Taking our time, we discussed which run to hit first. For a moment, it seemed like we were engaged in some serious business dialogue. The calming had begun to developed into excitement.  At the end of the walk in, we decided to split up and hit different drifts in efforts to locate them.

Adjusting my float and adding some shot, I hear a crash that broke the zenquility. As I looked up and over, Brad was frantically trying to catch up to his line from one of those hero drifts. The fish came back up on him and then burst across the river. I think Brad was still gathering the slack line when it spit the hook. So like any good buddy would, as he re-tied, I slipped around to low-hole him…….. and banked the first fish of the day.

Payback is a bitch. On the next run, Brad took advantage of yet another re-tie I was blessed with.

Right in front of me his float would dip under however this time, he made no mistake and set the rod back hard.

It was a big buck that would tear up the run despite the reduced temperatures.

Eventually he could not break the heavy tippet. Brad slid him onto the grass for a quick pic and admiration before sending him back.

Squared up on the hijinks, we decided to hit as many runs before the mid-way point of the day and then work the same runs and pools back to the vehicle.

We were certain there would be more than one fish in them as we could only muster one at each stop along the way. Instincts proved accurate as we connected with a few more on the latter part of the outing.

One particular highlight was a very large fish that had Brad hopping across the river in pursuit. Never seen him go with so little caution. As I got down below him and the fish, I caught a glimpse and thought it was a late entry salmon. It was that big. We had to have been close to five minutes into the battle and a good 50 meters downstream. It was no surprise that the knot gave way and sent his rig directly back at him. He was fortunate that it all hit his chest otherwise he would be asking for his two front teeth this Christmas.

There may be one more trip out before the 25^th. For now, it’s off to wrap the damn presents…..