Steelhead Funk

By Aaron VanSchyndel

By Lost Coast Outfitters

January 19^th, 2018

Lets talk about getting skunked. Specifically, getting skunked while chasing coastal steelhead. Trust me, I’ve heard all the cliches… fish of a thousand casts, chasing ghosts, unicorns, etc. But it wasn’t til day 9 of my steelhead skunk streak that I truly started to internalize what all these terms meant. As it turns out, steelhead don’t care much about you. For me at least, getting skunked wasn’t because of a lack of trying. Beginning on January 1st of this year, the start of true steelhead season for me, I had strategically planned vacation days and three day weekends to maximize my time on coastal rivers - nine of the first fourteen days of the year to be exact. Pretty good for someone who works a full time job in the city. But again, I’ve learned steelhead don’t care a whole lot about your vacation days.

I’ve done everything I could to prepare for this season as well. Dialed in rods, planned out my fly box, and geeked out on grain weights for my spey setup. I’ve watched Rio’s spey casting DVD so many times that Simon’s voice plays in the back on my mind on practically every cast. I’ve also done every superstitious thing in the book, from wearing lucky hats to drinking steelhead beer. Turns out steelhead don’t care about any of this either. I’ve driven something like 1,500 miles already in 2018. I’ve literally lived at a Motel 6 for a week. I’ve neglected my body in more ways than I’d like to admit - skipping meals, forgetting to drink water, staying up too late and waking up too early. I’ve explored close to ten separate river systems. And I’ve watched bait guys throwing roe land a half dozen adult steelhead in the same runs that I’ve been fishing. The steelhead just don’t seem to care about any of that. I’ve taken in some of the most beautiful scenery the west coast had to offer. I’ve seen emerald pools so green and clear that I didn’t even bother to take out my camera - knowing full-well it wouldn’t do it justice. I’ve fished with friends old and new. And I’ve watched as great friends finally get off the skunk train themselves - the joy of which was almost as sweet as landing one myself.