I feel the long sought tug of a heavy fish and drive the hook of my fly solidly home. Confused, the
The writer (on the right) with a bright Clinton River steelhead.
Photo credit: Wayne Snyder.
fish jumps flipping in mid-air and jets downstream in a wild, manic dash. It rapidly pulls out sixty feet of my yellow fly line then, unexpectedly, pauses to rest. It is then that I know to give chase as best as I can, stumbling over slippery rocks and reeling as fast as I can to gain line. Still not knowing why it is being pulled the fish swims steadily back upstream, quickly passes me, and heads for a block of perpetually down-fallen trees that cross the river. If the fish reaches what it perceives as the safety of the downfall it can easily weave my leader through its maze of trunk and branches. Then I feel vibration and the snap as my leader breaks. The steelhead is gone. Yet I am exhilarated to have witnessed the power and, briefly, the beauty of that steelhead. I’m just happy to have hooked the fish, because if you think about the circumstances, it all seems so improbable.
First of all it’s cold. Any outdoor sport will be challenging in December, but river fishing can be finger and toe-numbing brutal. Strangely, steelhead fishermen consider it a rite of passage to endure such a harsh condition and still manage to extract a trophy fish. January and February can be much to cold to fish, but a “warm” December day on the river can be exhilarating.
An assortment of steelhead flies.
Photo credit: Wayne Snyder.
Another improbable factor is that the Clinton River, where I was fishing, was pronounced a “dead” river fifty years ago and living fish couldn’t be found from Pontiac to the mouth of the Clinton in the 1960’s. Now, thanks mainly to the federal Clean Water Act, local industrial discharges are now regulated and water quality in the Clinton River has improved dramatically over the past thirty years. Today a large, varied fishery exists which includes native fish but also trout, salmon and steelhead. Granted, the Clinton’s steelheads are planted by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources, but don’t let that fact minimize the achievements of many which include the Rochester area’s local Trout Unlimited chapters, the Clinton River Watershed Council and many others. The Clinton River’s astounding recovery is something of a miracle.
Brown trout may also be caught while steelheading.
Photo credit: Wayne Snyder.
A little history for you – long before the river was referred to as “The River Huron” and renamed the Clinton River in honor DeWitt Clinton, a former governor of the state of New York, it was known as the “Nottawasippee” by the native Ojibwe and local French settlers. The word “Nottawasippee” is an Anishnabek term that means “like rattlesnakes.”
Now’s the time to get out on our miracle river and try to land what many regard a fish of dreams. Sure, there will probably be some snow on the ground, and maybe some shelf ice on the riverbanks. It’s not steelhead season without a little bit of the white stuff.
Wayne Snyder is the author of three books about fly-fishing in Michigan. He resides in Rochester Hills.
