Many anglers had booked their trips months in advance for the holiday week, which in a normal Winter season provides some of the year's best steelheading. Many more had a few days off because of the holidays and decided to make the pilgrimage to Smith. The Smith was stacked with boats and the "bankies" were fishing at every point of access. Since I was going to be fishing the Smith the following day, I agreed to drift the Chetco with Dave.

We put in at Redwood in Siskiyou National Forest, about a 20 minute drive inland from Brookings. The scenery is as beautiful as the Smith but very different. The river is lined with old growth fir and myrtle in contrast to the redwood and willow of the Smith, 20 miles to the south. It is a peaceful place where the only sounds are the birds and the water flowing over the riffles.

While we were getting our gear stowed on the boat, another boat drifted by; they had been on the water for a couple of hours and hadn't seen a fish. That was almost the story of the day. We drifted close to fifteen miles of river, methodically fishing each riffle and slot with roe, hot shots and even pieces of shrimp from my lunch. I may have been hit once, but my puffball never displayed those embarrassing tooth marks of a missed strike. As the day wore on, Dave's good natured remarks about my inability to detect a bite became more frequent.

As we neared the confluence of the North Fork, the sun set behind the hills and we could barely make out someone standing in a boat fighting a fish. As we got closer, one of the bank anglers got a strike and was running up the riverbank trying to keep pace with his fish. We worked the area until it got so dark we could barely see the take-out a few hundred yards downriver. The guys in the boat netted their fish and the bank angler, now soaking wet from head to toe, walked along the shoreline, explaining to his buddies how he was bested by a fish.

While Dave was getting the boat out of the water and securing all the gear, I talked to other anglers, both bank and boat. It quickly became apparent how grim the day was for all the anglers. The 6 boats combined for 2 steelhead and 1 salmon. "This has been the roughest week I ever spent on this river and I've been doing it for years," one of the bank anglers told me. I just stood there and wondered about the angler's luck. Why had he been fishing the same spot for days without luck and someone else walks up and hooks a fish in an hour? On a bad day like this one, do only the lucky catch fish? Speaking of luck, it's really a bad day for an outdoor writer when you get skunked and can't even get a photo of the only fish you saw because it's too dark. This made for two skunk trips in a row for me. My luck was going to have to change or I was going to have to find another occupation! The next morning, the commotion of 40 anglers preparing to do battle woke me out of a deep sleep at the Hiouchi Motel. I got myself and my gear together and walked across the parking lot to the Hiouchi Café (where yesterday's lucky anglers boast about their prowess over ham and eggs, and 10 pound fish quickly grow to 14, and they don't take Visa, MasterCard or American Express), for a hearty breakfast and blue plate fish stories.

As far as I could tell from sifting through all the conversation, the steelhead made a strong run after the previous rain. There were fish in the river and a good number of them were big, 4 caught in the 18-20 pound class over the last week. The overall numbers, however, were well below a fish per rod. It was probably going to be another day for the lucky. One boat gets four or five fish and everyone else is lucky to boat one. Today I was fishing with Albert Kutzkey of Kutzkey's Guide Service. He decided we would wait around and let the "armada" get a half an hour or so downriver before we put our boat in the water. "This much traffic and this clear of water is going to make the fish very spooky and the boats are going to drive them away from where they normally would be," adding "I'd rather let them calm back down a little."

The water level was low and the river running crystal clear. There had not been a significant rain for well over a week but it had been very cold and what little snow there was would maintain the water level for a few more days. When we arrived at the "Forks Launch", there were 20 boat trailers in the parking lot and 4 in front of us in the process of launching. To make matters worse it was freezing cold and the wind was blowing at over 20 knots.

Albert slowly prepared his boat and by the time we hit the water there were only three other boats left at the launch. "We're going to try this slot right here. I'll bet nobody fished it yet," he said.

Sure enough, Steve Ratto from Alameda, my compadre for the day, missed a strike on the first drift. We tried it again, I felt the slightest quick tap tap tap and set the hook! My rod pulled toward the river as the fish soared out of the water behind the boat then took off down stream. I could watch the fish turn and rip off line in the clear water. I worked the rod to attempt to steer the fish up river while Albert rowed to keep pace. We both wanted this fish to the boat before we hit the rapids downstream of the hole.

Adrenaline surged through my veins and my heart pounded as the fish made run after run. The anglers still launching their boats cheered as Albert netted the 10 pound hen. The excitement of fighting this steelhead was well worth waiting for.

The river was good to me this day. I also caught three "half-pounders", immature steelhead 2-3 pounds. Steve, sitting right next to me, came up empty getting the one hit on the first drift of the day and a vicious strike late in the day where the fish broke the water and snapped the 8 pound leader within 2 seconds after he set the hook.

Steelhead luck, go figure. A skilled guide, fishing, casting, everything the same and one stick gets all the fish. You can get lucky with the weather if your trip is a day or two after a storm and a big run of fish heads up river and everybody catches fish, but it is just as likely the reservation you made two months ago gets you there exactly when the big storm hits and you spend two days in your motel room watching it rain. The only way to beat the odds is to just keep fishing. Sooner or later your day will come.