It was another sleepless night. Like a child on Christmas Eve, I’ve never been able to get a good night’s sleep before a fishing trip. Instead of visions of sugarplums dancing in my head, it was the image of a tight line and the whirl of a Hardy reel that kept me restless. In the morning, Club Member Rick Pay and I headed to the Deschutes in search of Steelhead with Brian Silvey as our guide.
It’s said that Steelhead is the fish of 10,000 casts. I figured I had to have over 7,000, so I should be “due.” Well, since I wasn’t sleeping, I might as well ask ChatGPT exactly what my chances were of landing my first Steelhead on this trip. Imagine how my heart sank when the response was: “Your previous 7,000 casts do not change the probability of success on the next cast. This is a classic example of an independent Bernoulli trial (the same reason a coin doesn’t become “due” for heads. The gambler’s fallacy.” I took a little more solace when it went on to inform me that fishermen who make 3,000 casts have a 26% chance of landing at least one steelhead; at 5,000 casts, the odds improve to 39%; and at 6,000 casts, the odds are 50% of catching at least one steelhead. Oh well, I could live with a 50/50 chance this trip.
Rick and I arrived in Maupin on a Sunday night to check into a single room at the Imperial Hotel. I noted that this didn’t raise so much as an eyebrow from the clerk who checked us in. As the bumper sticker states – “There is something fishy about Maupin” – they know the drill. We dined at the only establishment in town still serving food – The Riverside Bar. We found the place packed and took the last two seats at the bar. Tonight was trivia night, and the locals were out in full force. Rick and I kept up, especially in categories like The Beatles and Oregon History. Then came the bonus category – Things about Cher, we were doomed.
Back at the Imperial, we had time for a BYOB nightcap and cigar in the yard overlooking the river. A brilliant full moon illuminated the night. We were joined in the yard by a large buck and a group of does and fawns. We made eye contact with the buck and agreed to stay on our respective sides of the yard – this is Maupin, they know the drill. Rick reminded me it was time to head in; we had an early start. Rick fishes with Brian Silvey several times each year and they know each other well – well enough for Rick to know about “Silvey time.” When Brian says we leave at 5:30 am, Rick knows that Brian really means he will be there at 5:15 am and expects you to be in waders, ready to go, at 5:15 am. So, Rick wants us ready to go closer to 5 am because it’s never a good idea to start a day on the river by keeping your guide waiting – bad juju. Now, Brian knows that Rick knows Silvey time, so he likes to arrive early to keep the upper hand. And so it goes… we arrive in the parking lot after a brief breakfast, in full waders, at 4:53 am. Brian is just exiting his truck – this one is a draw.
As we leave the put-in, Brian quickly remarks that the moon is so bright it might affect the fishing—apparently, the fish get confused and just go deep to avoid predators. I can’t help but think about the clever tactics guides use to lower fishermen’s expectations once they’re on the river. The brochures and pre-booking are all about the river’s abundance and their unique skills to help even the most inexperienced angler land monsters like the ones featured on their websites. Once we’re on the water, it often feels like a list of factors that could ruin the day: CFPS, barometric pressure, the effects of yesterday’s rains, the lack of rain, water is too clear/cloudy, sunlight, gill netting on the Columbia, and more. I wonder if, after a day on the river, the guides all gather in the back room at the Deschutes Angler Fly Shop to share ideas about possible fishing impediments, as a kind of professional courtesy, just as they share their respective plans for the next day, so they don’t all compete for the same runs.
I am snapped out of my contemplation by Brian’s observation of headlamps way up on the hills. Deer season has just begun, so those are hunters trekking up thousands of feet before dawn, heading to spots their scouting suggests will attract deer after sunrise. All I can think is – how do they get their harvest back down? That’s a long way on steep terrain.
Brian seems a bit obsessed about the number of camps along the river and who is in each – are they hunters or fishermen? Or are they hunters during the day that pull out spey rods when they get back to camp after the day’s hunt? I notice that he literally makes a mental note of any and every soul we see on the river. It seems to bother him if he comes across one that he is unfamiliar with, or can’t predict what they will be doing on his river. I have come to learn that this is not out of a desire to keep things for himself, although he does have his favorite runs and doesn’t appreciate it when they are occupied upon his arrival. It’s more of a well-honed situational awareness. Who might fish where? Who might drink too much, find themselves in trouble navigating one of the rapids, and require rescuing? He has had to pull his share of folks out of the river before. As we float a bit further, he points to a mangled tree on a steep shore just below the road. A pick-up truck had been lodged in it the week before. He pulls out his phone and shows us the picture of the truck in the tree. Brian has seen many strange things on this river over the years.
As daylight arrives, we continue floating down the river to our first run. High in the hills above us, Brian points out several mountain sheep rams vying for the attention of ewes. The rut starts soon, and he mentions that you can hear the clack of their horns clearly this far down the river. At the first run, I realize it has been too long since I last went fishing, and a bit of practice spey casting before this trip would have been wise. Brian is patient with me as I struggle, muscling my casts, often sending bird nests of line a short distance into the river. Fortunately, Rick has his casting dialed in and is gently forming perfect loops, sending his line unfolding into the seam of the river. Brian reminds me, “it’s all one smooth motion, and we keep the focus on the lower hand” – I keep thinking – “who is this ‘we’ he keeps referring to?” Eventually, the rust rubs off enough to enable me to get my line out with some semblance of efficiency.
While my line completes the swing, I have time to reflect on my previous outings and what I have learned – fishing with Felton Jenkins and guide Matt Mendez, I had a good grab once – that was before I did my best Bassmaster hook set and yanked the fly out of the fish’s mouth. Matt informed me that “you need to let them hook themselves – never try to set the hook with a Steelhead.” That was a lesson learned the hard way.
As the morning went on, the weather warmed into what could only be called a picture-perfect day—sunny, around 65 degrees, and the river looked spectacular. Brian reminded us that this sun wasn’t ideal for fishing, but we all agreed it was just great to be on the river on such a wonderful day.
Just before lunch, Brian took us to a run he knew would keep us occupied long enough for him to set up his rather elaborate lunch. It was a wide, shallow, and long run with a deep seam on the far side. Wading was easy, allowing us to go far enough out to cast to either the close seam or the far bank, as we chose. I took the lower position and was to fish toward the riffle. Rick was 40 yards behind me. I knew this water was fishy, and I had finally gotten my casting under control enough to feel confident, reminding myself I had a 50/50 shot, and this was where it would happen. And then it did—a strong tug – that was no bottom rock! The line went quiet for just a moment, then there it was again! I kept telling myself to let the fish hook itself. On the third tug, he was on, and the reel began to whine. Only then did I let the others know—fish on!
Brian had been on shore preparing lunch. The next thing I knew, he was beside me, reminding me to “let ‘em run”. How did he get here so fast?! Brian continued – “keep the tip up”, “this is when we reel in some line” (again with the ‘we’), and then “let him run” – again. I took my hand off the reel and held it out as if I were showing it to a cop—I knew better than to do anything stupid with the reel when you had a good fish on—been there, done that. The Steelhead jumped twice, but that was enough to show us he was a decent fish. He turned and ran back toward us, and Brian excitedly told me to “reel in fast!”
We started working the fish toward the shore so we could control him, and Brian could net him. Once in the net, I found it surprisingly tricky to grab the base of the back fin, as Brian O’Keefe had instructed during his Club presentation. Finally, I managed to control the fish for a quick photo and was eager to return him to the water. Brian was saying something to me, but I was too focused on making sure the fish was responding and ready to go. He seemed fine to me, so I released him before turning to Brian to see what he was saying, but he was gone. Brian was sprinting toward the shore. I yelled over, “What the hell are you doing?” His reply was, “Trying to save a native fish!”
I had made the mistake of pointing the fish toward the shallow water of the shore instead of the deeper water behind me, where he could recover in the safety of cooler, deeper water. Brian’s sheepdog maneuver had turned the fish back towards the deep. Here’s another lesson learned the hard way—always release your catch into the deeper water.
I was beyond thrilled to finally catch my first Steelhead. Rick didn’t have to wait long before he, too, had one on – but that one broke off. The following day, Rick connected for his Steelhead. It was a wonderful trip and one I will never forget. I remember the overwhelming feeling of gratitude — for the fish, for the company, for the guide, and for the health to be on the river that day, where everything came together. I’m grateful that through FCO, I had the chance to meet and become friends with Rick, and I look forward to more adventures with him and our other friends in the Club.