Steelheading is unique in the world of sport, in that, it attracts a breed of patient adrenaline junkies. This is a paradox of course and the cliché that says, “The tug is the drug.” holds true for these guys. It did for Mike anyway. And so when he calmed down with some well-placed words by Chick and executed a perfect double spey cast into the slot where the bucks were cruising, the tug delivered the rush that Mike had been thinking about for months while in country.
He played the set perfectly. When the buck came up through the water column and he could feel the slight pull, he let the fish take it. Exhale. No need to jerk up and set the hook... add some stiffness, then bang. Fish on.
It was Dan the dog who went nuts and fought Mike for position on the casting mark. He furiously swung his head one way and his back half in the opposite direction as black labs tend to do when they are all fired up. The sun was now just over the ridgeline and in the half-light they could see the steelhead. Chrome bright and probably 1 week from the salt, it was a worthy opponent and deserving of respect. Chick cinched up behind Mike and Dan on the ledge to provide some more coaching.
"Good... good, you’re not horsing him in... Nice job...Ok...He's settin' up for a run...Keep that line tight...there he goes....
In the moment that the sea run rainbow left the water to complete the 1st of 4 jumps, Mike thought of his dad and how much he would have loved to see this and how much he missed him.