Near Disaster on the Salmon River

Salmon River in Mt. Hood National Forest

When hiking into unfamiliar terrain one should always have a compass, a GPS or other emergency equipment, such as a map, first aid kit and matches. Without these necessities lady luck may be your only means of avoiding disaster. Unfortunately, my friend Rob and I found this out the hard way. 

We arrived at the Salmon River in the Mt. Hood National Forest and prepared to hike up the Salmon River trail 4 1/2 miles to reach Final Falls. The lower river contained wild salmon and Steelhead which were protected, but there were good numbers of native Cutthroat trout that were catch and release only. The trail began at Green Canyon Campground. We left around noon and planned to return before dark which, in the fall, was usually around 6:00 or 6:30. 

As we headed up through the massive canopy of old growth Douglas Fir and Cedar, we stopped and fished at a variety of pocket water, intriguing riffles and inviting pools. The sun glistened brightly off the water as we caught and released numerous trout using various caddis patterns. Most of the fish caught were small, 6 to 9 inches long, but very feisty. A 10 to 12 incher was considered a trophy.

Finally, we reached the Falls and took a break for lunch. Then, we spent several more hours fishing, taking photos and reminiscing about past experiences. It had been a fun and productive day but as the time neared 5:00 we decided to head back before it got dark. However, we forgot to take one thing into consideration. The river was located in a forested canyon and the trees and dense foliage helped to blanket out the waning light. After only a mile of hiking, darkness slowly swallowed up the light and the evening quickly turned into pitch black. We were in trouble. 

We had matches and some paper but that only gave us a quarter mile of limited guidance. The trail was wide and smooth enough so our only hope was to use team work to hopefully make our way back. I grabbed the rods and held them out laterally in front and Rob grabbed my small back pack and held on tight. Then in unison, we took small footsteps as I moved the rods back and forth in front of us to keep us in contact with the trail. Luckily, after 2 1/2 grueling and harrowing hours we neared the trail’s end and saw our car in the faint light. 

We were elated but as we approached it an exasperating event occurred. Unbelievably, a full moon slowly loomed over the canyon walls, and you could clearly see the entire surroundings. From then on we agreed to learn more about Solunar Tables and to be prepared for any uncertainties.     

Clark's Hex Hopper

Clark's Hex Hopper

Lee Clark, the originator of the Clark’s Stonefly, is an innovative fly tier, which is shown in his new fly the Clark's Hex Hopper. This unique fly was tied to suggest an emerging Hexagenia Limbata, better known as the big yellow mayfly. 

The big yellow mayfly measures 1/2 to 1 1/2 inches in length. It is unique because it usually emerges just before dark, and it can be found in both lakes and streams. 

Fish will take this fly aggressively if you use quick, short jerks that cause the fly to pop like a bass popper. When fish are not surface feeding this method can be used to entice lethargic fish into striking. It is also effective when used for bass and Steelhead. 

Materials: 
Hook:  2X long sizes 6-8,
Thread:  Black 6/0
Tail:  Brown mallard flank and Krystal Flash
Body:  Dark hare’s ear dubbing
Rib:  Medium gold oval tinsel
Legs:  Brown saddle hackle
Head:  Tan or brown deer hair

Step 1. Tie in a clump of mallard flank feathers. 

Then tie in 6-10 strands of Krystal Flash on top.

Step 2. Tie in a strand of medium gold oval tinsel 

and spin hare’s ear dubbing onto the thread.

Step 3. Wrap the dubbing forward to 1/3 inch of the 

hook eye. Then, wrap the tinsel forward about six wraps. 

Next, attach the palmered brown hackle in tip first.

Step 4.Spiral in 3 to 4 wraps of hackle and 

wrap slightly back over it to form a 45˚ angle. 

Leave 1/3 of the hook open for the head.

Step 5. Spin the deer hair on to form the head. 

then cut and trim the deer hair so that it is slightly 

round on top and flat on the bottom. Tie off and cement.

Miracle on North Fork Reservoir

North Fork Reservoir near Estacada, OR

I was just a young boy of 12 when my dad and I had a fishing experience that would rival many accounts of Ripley’s “Believe it or Not.” It happened when we were fishing for trout on North Fork Reservoir near Estacada, Oregon. It harbored planted Rainbow trout as well as some hatchery Steelhead that inadvertently would escape from the fish trap at Cazadero Dam. 

We launched Dad’s 12 foot Sea King boat into the placid water and headed out to the cadence of his 5-horsepower Scott-Atwater motor. Dad set our trolling rigs out and they quickly started dancing to the rhythm of the copper-pated spinning flies. My hopes were at a fever pitch as Dad maneuvered the boat in and out of the wooded shore line, but after two hours we only had a few strikes. I was getting a little discouraged and as I turned to complain to Dad my rod was jerked out of my hand and plunged into the water. He quickly revved up the engine and made an effort to follow my wayward outfit but to no avail. My rod was gone and I hung my head in despair, but fortunately he had another one rigged up so I could continue fishing. 

The remainder of the day was spent zig-zagging the boat in the hopes of hooking some fish or possibly my rod. As darkness began to fall, and without any luck, we headed back to the boat ramp. We were the last fishermen to concede defeat. When we docked the boat, a fellow was idly standing by his trailer and as we approached he curiously asked, “Did you guys have any luck today?” 

Dad paused for a moment and responded, “Yeah, but it was all bad. We didn’t catch any fish and when my son finally hooked one the rod was….” 

The man quickly interrupted, reached into his boat, pulled out an outfit and asked, “Is this what you're looking for?”  We were stunned. It was my rod and reel! With a slight grin he handed it to me and said, “You might want this too.” He pulled the rest of the line from the boat and handed me a nice 8 pound Steelhead with my copper spinning fly still hooked in its jaw. I was spellbound and all my dad could say was, “Well, I’ll be dammed!”

The offer to give him the fish for his trouble and honesty was graciously refused and he turned to me and said, “Son, you hooked the fish. All I did was land it for you. It’s all yours."