Ashland tidings. [volume] (Ashland, Or.) 1876-1919, 1913-11-20
Fishing on the Rogue

tom rifles of moderate width, with
the water from three to ten feet dep,
are their favorite lurking places. If
the bottom is full of seams and
cracks, so MUCH the better, as these
crevices are ideal haunts for the big
fellows. Then, when you have To-
Gated such place, don't drag your
fly along the edge of the current, as
in trout fishing, but work out a good
length of line, casting it clear across
the body of the stream and let it
swing down without further motion.
If you are in luck, the fish will do
the rest.
l know of a place on the Rogue
which comes as near being a perfect
steelhead rifle as any place I've ever
seen. At this point the river goes
round a horseshoe bend in series
of falls. Just above the upper fall
the river broadens to width of a
hundred feet, with solid bedrock
stretching from bank to bank. The
fish struggle through the quarter
mile of rapids, then find this perfect
resting pool just above the final
jump, and it's no wonder that they
tarry a while before going on up
stream. One side of the river is
hopeless, but on the opposite shore
a reef of broken rock juts out some
fifty feet, affording a good casting
point For centuries the river has
been sluicing gravel over this reef
during the winter freshets, and if
there is more slippery piece of
wading I've never seen it, 1t was on
this reef that Diana filled her wad-
ers, SO don't judge her too harshly.
We reached this place in the early
morning, and Texas Jack was the
first one ready for the water
Very cautiously he worked his way
over the CLASSY rock. and we watched
him unlimber his long Tom" AS
the sun was still low, he put on a
coachman and with a master hand
sent it flying over the pool. Each
bend of the rod shot out another
yard of line and finally the fly
dropped lightly over sixty feet away.
Then he lowered his rod tip and
watched the fly skim over the water.
Half way across, and there was moth
ing doing. Another ten feet, and as
the fly swept over a dark spot we
saw his rod snap forward, heard him
yell, and the first fight was on.
Up in the air went the steelhead,
straight as an arrow, his whole body
quivering in frantic effort to shake
out the stinging hook. Down he
came like the splash of twelve-inch
plank, then a sharp dash across
stream, followed by two more yard
high leaps. But the hook was in
firm and the fight continued. For
some minutes the big fish worked up
stream, making a number of short
rushes. Then down to the bottom
nosing among the sharp crevices
bringing the frail leader dangerously
close to some nasty corners. A few
jerks of the rod ended his boring
and he suddenly shot off downstream
toward the falls. A hundred feet OF
line went screaming off the reel, a
slight pause, then another fifty feet
flew out as the fish tore through the
white water, and Jack broke all rec
ords getting ashore. Over the rocks
he ran, holding his rod high over his
shoulders to keep a tight line on the
fish. Below the first drop are three
more, and the fish fought stubbornly
through each, until Jack finally
beached him in the last eddy, fully
800 yards below the spot where the
fight began.
Then just to show us that this was
no fluke, he caught two more out OF
the same rifle, the three fish averag-
ing five pounds each. BY this time
the sun was shining strong on the
water and the fish seemed to lose
interest in our flies.
y
So we iourneyed around the loop
down to a rifle known as the Rattle
snake. A reef of yellowish rocl
winds along for hundred yards, ly'
ing close to our shore, and it's pc
culiar formation is probably account
able for it's title. Here the water la,