The glassy tail-outs are filling in. After jockeying, rolling, and jumping, many of the Fall Salmon are doing what they came here to do now. They travel 150 miles to spawn and die in the same gravel that they emerged from. I make a point to stand up and observe each flat as we drift down to our next run. The Salmon's timeless ritual never gets old to me. Each day, more and more of these ever darkening torpedoes drop down from the safety of the deeper pools for one final dance.
But not all of them!
Dylan maxing out a 7wt.
There are still some pretty damn snappy fish out there. This big guy took an intruder right on the hang down. He didn't want to move at first but eventually he came in.
Sure looks good in that http://www.pnwlandingnets.com/
Rogue Chinook
We may have also gotten completely burned by a hot Steelhead a bit earlier in the day, but since that fish was having nothing to do with staying on a hook...