Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to get out and see how the spring runoff was slowing down, the temps rising, and the fish getting (I hoped) a bit more active. A good friend of mine was also able to set aside some time, so we headed up the Naches River in search of a tributary that might be in good shape. The day had been sunny and warm, with only slight breezes, making the occasional venture outside in the morning very comfortable, and the expectation for the afternoon one that would support wet wading.
To be clear, I really like the waders and boots I have, and enjoy using them when the conditions warrant. That said, I also truly enjoy the feel of the water on my legs and feet, and come away with a much more connected experience when the opportunity to wet wade pans out. With temps forecast in the high 80’s, this was the first chance of this year to give it a try.
The first stop was the American River. This is a larger tributary of the Naches, and flows down from a point of origin very near to Mt. Rainier. It follows WA SR-410 through some absolutely beautiful stretches, winding nearer or farther from the road as the terrain permits. Some excellent looking campgrounds are situated along it, as well. We pulled off at a dispersed campsite that I have often pass up, as it is usually in use, when I make my way through the area. It has two separated areas for tents that sit on a bend in the river, nestled among tall conifers.
Stepping out, we confirmed that the skies had gotten overcast during the drive, but the air still felt warm and the breeze light, so we geared up and picked a couple of spots to try the river. I found a downstream location, after the main left-hand bend around the campsite, that hooked back to the right and continued down along the highway. The spot had several downed trees, and some good bubble lines, although the water was a bit fast (reportedly 379 cfs, at that time, overall). I hoped to find usable seam lines and side channels, and made my way down to the water’s edge.
You know that point in some action movies, where the hero (sometimes villain) is captured after a long fight, brought to some secret place while unconscious, and is usually tied or handcuffed in a hanging/standing position, then splashed with a bucket of what must be ice-cold water? Recall all those moments, then overlay them into one event and picture it happening when one foot slips into a river…
The thermometer would tell me a few minutes later that it was in the low-to-mid 40’s, but my feet told me that I should be looking for free-floating ice. Thankfully, the need to really wade was minimal, as there were several available rocky areas with dry tops, and one could endure a step or two at a time in the water between them, then allow the blood flow to resume as you balanced and cast for a while, on the rocks.
Absolutely breathtaking location. The river was clear and brisk, the breeze still gentle, and the smell of the woods seemed to be just drifting by for my own enjoyment. I tried casting to the seam on the near side of a fallen tree in the nearest pool, and had a great deal of success…in that my loops were nicely tight and accuracy was pretty good. Unfortunately, no fish made an appearance to offer an opinion on either aspect.
Moving up the flow, I tried a side channel then another fast pool, but still saw no sign of interest from below the film. Roughly at that time, I also heard a roll of thunder off in the distance and became aware that the sky had continued to darken. As much as I enjoy the surroundings, my focus on the water and my casting often allows such things to sneak up on me. It also makes it close to impossible for me to actively track time spent on the water, to the point that I have taken to selecting specific start/stop points to manage my time, if I have a set end I need to meet, as I know I will not check my watch or phone. I have also come to realize that having an actual alarm set leaves me with a lingering sense of urgency that works against actually relaxing into the experience.
Making my way farther up, casting as I went, I started to see and feel large drops of rain, and saw that my buddy also felt that we should talk about our progress. He had also had no success, so we decided to stow the gear and make our way to another tributary and see if the travel time would allow the weather to pass. Altogether, the spot was one that I will definitely try, again. Nice stretch with easy places to get into the river and back out, accessible from parking on both ends of the stretch. Perhaps when the river gets down below 250 cfs…
The drive back down stream put us a bit ahead of the weather, and we decided to take on a stretch of the next river that would allow for an hour or so of fishing and wading, with the hope that this would keep us ahead of any really heavy rain, should that cell follow us into this area.
Thankfully, this water was a full 10 degrees warmer, and the overall wading was easier, at roughly 160 cfs. Making my way upstream, I had several smaller fish come up and play with the fly (#12 Parachute Adams, with rusty hackle), but none of them big enough to take it. Still, it brings a smile to my face when the flies I tie are sufficient to at least draw some attention. Between that aspect and the sense of relaxation I get anytime I am out in nature, I was really enjoying the day.
At one point, I looked upstream and saw my buddy releasing what had to be a nice medium-sized fish (at least based on the splashing it was doing). He later confirmed that it was perhaps an 8″ trout. For a river of this size, not bad at all. For me, if anyone catches a fish during a day on the water, it is a success, so seeing that made me quite happy.
As I approached a pool with a tail of bubbles coming from a riffle up ahead, I made my way to the left side and prepared to find my way across the rock face that drops into the deeper section of the pool, on that side. In the past, I had used the various outcroppings and small rocky shelves to make my way to a bend in the pool, allowing me to cast directly into the head of the pool, just under that riffle, and be casting almost directly upstream. By high-sticking, I can get a good 2-3′ of drag-free drift on the fly, after landing it next to the churning water. Some good success, in the past, so worth the try.
The only problem was…as I got to about a fifth of the way along the rock face, there was a flash of pure white that lit up my vision from the reflection on the water, below, followed by a very near clap of thunder.
An alarm for the end of our time on the water had gone off, apparently.
Looking upstream, my buddy was already furling his line and we quickly signaled each other that it was time to head back to the truck, glad to have had the chance to fish two pristine rivers, spend time in nature, and also the opportunity to catch up and talk on the drives, to, from, and between. I am so used to making these drives alone, that I sometimes forget the added pleasure of good company and the opportunity to share observations and a few laughs with a friend.
Tight lines!