After spending my first 15 years of fly fishing as a single-handed, mostly trout fisherman, I decided it was time to give spey fishing a try. Many of the people I knew were straight fanatical about swinging flies. Everything else was lower down on the evolutionary chain from their art. They were in love with the art and elegance of the cast. It never seemed to bother them (that they would admit to) that us single handers were typically out fishing them.

At first I was a bit nervous with this new endeavor. I had heard of people swinging flies for years before they landed their first fish. Another reason for my hesitation was that I didn't want to become one of those fishermen who looked down on anyone who didn't prescribe to his particular way of doing things. After several outings, (I won't admit to how many) a buddy and I headed out for a mid-afternoon trip to my local swing hole to see if I could finally break my drought. We didn't have very much time so we were going to fish two runs then head home.

I fished a run that has a great reputation for producing several fish where I had lost one just two days earlier, but I had no luck. It looked like I'd have to continue waiting for that first steelhead. So I headed down to where my buddy was fishing. The plan was to sit back and watch him fish; the longer I fish the more I enjoy watching others fish. I derive almost the same pleasure as when I fish. After a couple minutes of this, he recommended spending the last half hour fishing down below him on river right.

I made it 3/4 of the way down then wham! It felt like my fly had been hit by a freight train. To my left was a deep strong current and I had enough steelhead experience to know that if I didn't get her to the eddy my chances would be drastically reduced. I've never been so nervous trying to bring in a fish. My hands were shaking I was so excited. I've also had enough experience with steelhead to know why fishermen have two statistics for this fish: number of fish hooked and number of fish landed. I tried not to think about that. All I wanted was to just be in the moment.

After a lively 10 minute fight, I landed my first steelhead on the swing. She was a 24 inch hen, bright as a nickel, and couldn't have been in the river more than a week. She was a hatchery fish so I bonked her and headed back to where my friend was finishing out his evening.

I had to go up stream quite a bit to get to the place where I could cross. A natural spill way had created a shallower section that at low water was passable. As soon as I started crossing the deeper section, I tripped and the fish came out of my hand and back into the river. I didn't hesitate a second. I went after it head first! This was my first steelhead on the swing and I'd be damned to see it go back down the river. Plus, I had just killed it and didn't want this fish to have died in vain.

Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.