Biggest Trout of the Trip: Washington to Ohio
The main reason we decided to cut short our visit in the Northwest was to avoid the smoke still pushing down from the Canadian wildfires. Additionally, the heat index forecast was off the charts and we didn’t think it would be a healthy situation for our dog Trigger. Meg and I discussed our options and agreed dropping off the truck and camper in Cleveland and heading home for a month was the best idea.
Lobster Season in the Keys opens August 6th. There’s also a two-day Mini-Season the last week in July. I had a pretty tight window to cross the majority of the country, drop off the camper, rent a car, pack up the dog and drive back to the Keys in order to make it home in time before the opening.
At this point, I was as far west in the contiguous U.S. as one can possibly be, give or a take a mile or two. Before making the decision to leave Washington, I learned the Northern Lights had the potential to be the most bright and visible in decades over the next two nights. Even when I lived near Seattle, I never knew the possibility existed. It’s not necessarily a bucket-list thing for me. It’s just always something I wanted to see and why not if given the opportunity. I found a potential camp spot on the inlet of the Quileute river with a clear northern view over the ocean. However, the forecast called for dense clouds over the next few nights putting a damper on that plan. Better viewing options were predicted in the Seattle area if you could avoid ambient light, so I headed east.
I camped on the Skykomish river. It was only about an hour and a half north of my planned route to Ohio. The Skykomish was my go-to river while living in the Seattle area years ago. And, more often than not, it produced quality fish. I already knew the majority of the Sky was closed. The closure started at the river mouth in Puget Sound and extended just above the Steelhead and Salmon hatcheries. I didn’t let that deter my efforts as I have caught both native Steelhead and Salmon above the hatcheries and my main goal was to view the Northern Lights.
I stopped at the salmon hatchery before making my way to the first access area beyond the river closure.
I fished that evening without a strike. I still appreciated being back on the river I frequented so many times in years past remembering the winters I waded the frigid water with hope of landing a Salmon until I could no longer feel my hands.
After arriving at the campsite, in my mind, there was a reasonable chance of seeing the lights. I knew the viewing magnitude and scale in this area wouldn’t be comparable to Iceland or Alaska, but I was optimistic I might see something. I set my alarm to go off every hour throughout the night. Unfortunately, I didn’t even get a glimpse. Granted, I wasn’t in a prime viewing area, but I gave it my best shot with the limited time I had available for this last-minute opportunity.
As I left the Skykomish the next morning, I eagerly anticipated fishing the St. Regis River once again. Without question, this would be my next and final fishing destination before Ohio.
Sometimes while traveling, you’re fortunate to arrive at a river at just the right time. There was the possibility our success on the first outing was just a rare occurrence. I had to know if this spot was the best trout-run we found all trip, or just blind luck on a single given day.
Trig and I arrived late that afternoon at the same campsite. There were people swimming in Main Pool, so fishing the evening bite wasn’t a viable option. And, after the eight-hour drive, Trigger and I were up for some dinner and relaxation time. I set up the BBQ and started considering my fishing strategy at first light.
I only had the next morning to fish if I were to keep on pace with my planned arrival in Cleveland. As the sun rose over the mountains, I walked right past First Run, Main Pool and headed directly to Meg’s Run. I was surprised there was zero insect activity. I fished for about 45 minutes and only caught one average sized trout on a stonefly. I was about to head back, pack up the dog and camper when insects and trout started converging at the water’s surface.
I went with my two go-to dry flies: Adams and Purple Haze. No takers. On our last visit, Meg noticed some of the hatch had a green coloration. On our previous drive through Idaho, we stopped at the fly store, aka ‘the gas station’ from a prior post, as I needed to pick up more Adams flies. I noticed a pattern I had not seen before with a green body, so I picked up four. I showed the pattern to Meg when I got back in the truck, and she agreed with the selection.
Since the Adams and the Purple Haze didn’t work, I opened my newly arranged fly box and remembered the green hued flies. I tied one on and with the first cast, caught the largest cutthroat by far on this entire trip.
After a successful morning of fishing, we packed up and started east. As we drove across Montana, I noticed just about every river we crossed were at prime fishing levels. However, with the smoke and the heat increasing, not to mention the thirty-hour drive to Cleveland, stopping was not an option.
After finally arriving in Cleveland 3 days later, I secured the camper, thanked my In-Laws, loaded up the dog and started my 21-hour drive back home.
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