Rogue Up River Kings

Ok, if any of you have followed me for a while you know that I have a passion that I haven't filled yet. After 43 years on God's green earth, I have yet to hook and land a up river, Rogue River Springer on a fly. I have hooked them, mostly by accident,  but I haven't even came close to landing one yet. Part of the reason for this is that I haven't had enough practice.  Part of the reason I haven't had enough practice is that my average hook up, to year, ratio is .0008 to one. Part of the reason for such a low hook up rate is that I think my fly is fishing where the salmon hold, about .053 seconds out of every 8 hours on the river, due to the high spring run off associated to these jems of the northwest.

This year is different,  2014 will be the year this passion will be filled, because I have came up secret weapon number 57.  With olé 57 I have a hypothesis to prove, but if I learned anything from 2 to 56, and kindergarten, it's that you have to keep your fly down...maybe I have the kindergarten lesson backwards...anyhow if you are going to catch a Chinook you have to be on the bottom. That's where olé 57 comes into the picture.  Olé 57 is a fly I would like to call Slowfish...kinda named after the lure with the exact opposite name...The Slowfish will get down.

The Slowfish is as big as my hand and made out of materials that allows it to be casted with something slightly less than a crane, but I guarantee it will get down.

Like all my other secret weapons I have yet ti iron all the details out--like will graphite hold up to the strain of  a Mack truck, as studies have shown that is the equivalent resistance that this fly will place on any rod: And if so how much of the river will it take with it. I am also a bit leery of packing the rod that this beast will require, as I'm afraid that much graphite whipping around in the atmosphere might alter the signals from the GPS satellites, sending our Air Force to attack Fiji instead Afghanistan- I kinda like Fiji!

Anyhow wish me luck, and don't let this secret leak to any of the Chinooks you know....Nate

What's that? You want to know about secret weapon number 1. Oh we don't talk about that around here. It's mere mention, creates hate and discontent around my house, as we haven't been able to handle our house cat since...even to wash the Chartreuse dye out.

So,  go ahead and copy this pattern if your man enough. 

Secret No.57 the Fly Known as Slowfish!

Battle Lines Have Been Drawn

The winter steelhead run was less than great this year, but the Springer run looks to be awesome. The problem is, as most of you know, it’s real Hard to get your fly in position, and stay there long enough to aggravate them. I have been busting my butt trying to figure out how to do this. Well I think I have it part of the way figured out. I took my 8wt spey rod, lined it with a skagit and a t12 tip casted the whole glob ,  up stream and mend my way through. This is kinda like hi-stick nymhping only treating your tip as a leader. I made three passes this way then I felt a little strike, I made a half hearted jerk, thinking I might clear the smolt off the fly, only to feel the full weight of a submersed freight train! It has been several years since I have been Chinook fishing, as I usually turn to trout this time of year to avoid the crowds. The fish took to the air dragging the skagit head and heavy tip out of the water like it was dental floss! It made a run towards the frog water up stream of me, giving me the false sense that I might actually land this brute. Then he swapped ends again, took to the Air, gave me the middle fin, and dashed down river combining all of his muscle and the mighty Rogue in its fight against me. The clicks of my reel became screams which drew the attention of the whole river bar, people were pointing, and laughing at the noise, until the mighty brute decided to make himself present in their lives also. Not, 20' off the bar the salmon took to the air only to return to the water with a crash that would put any cannonball to shame. People screamed, mothers gathered their children, and a Pit bull whimpered, stuck its tail between its legs, and ran under the nearest pickup.  People became silent; some even started to pray as they realized that I, standing in the middle of the river, was connected to that Monster. Coil, after coil departed from the reel taking with it any feeling of control that I might have ever had until I started to see the bare arbor and the tiny knot that would have to take the brunt of this frontal attack. I knew there was no way the small dacron knot could hold up, so I bowed the tip of the rod, in surrender, and held fast on the spool. The brute didn't even give me the satisfaction of seeing him when he turned my heavy forged hook into a strait pin. The line when limp, I breathed a sigh of disgust mixed with relief, ok mostly relief as I knew I had no control over this fish. People left the river bank as if they had just watched a movie with a bad ending.  Others, laughed, whispered something among themselves, and pointed in my direction. My dog, ya that’s right my dog, left my side and found a tree to hide under. I had been schooled by the River King—telling me to head to my usual sissy haunts on some small brook trout stream and leave his subjects alone.  Laughing rose from the emerald depths provoking me to shake my fist in a vow to return and declare battle once more. Mighty Rogue King, you may have won this battle but, I WILL WIN THE WAR!

Kings

Hooked a King today and found out a 8WT was way to light for a bright chromer! I casted upstream and would work my line perpendicular the rod--a kind of slow drift/swing. The Chinook hammered it and made three runs, jumping all the way. He just about spooled me.




Best Hole on the River! you can acess it from the butte creek side of deanmen.

Its Hard to see, but I was keeping my line perpendicular to the rod tip, just enough tension to to feel a hit, but not so much to pull the flies off the bottom.

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This is what your flies should look like if you get the modified swing right, I only could achieve it about half the time.

Fish On! right after this Picture he dang near spooled me. Last I saw of him, was almost to the rocks at the hole below me, there was nothing I could do!