Where’s Walter? The fish that won’t be caught

My friend and fellow fly-fisher Steve Kyle ventures farther and more often than anyone I know in search of his nemesis, Walter (named after the legendary fish in “On Golden Pond”). Steve has persuaded me to join him on previous trips, mostly with butt-freezing, fishless consequences.

I declined to join him on his current excursion to the Aleutians. There, he hopes to finally catch his Walter. Will he? Maybe. He loves trying.

The following is a summary of his reports so far:

“When I was about 7 years old, my father surprised me with my first fishing rod, a stout little piece of dark amber-colored fiberglass with a shiny reel attached. He took me fishing on the small stream that ran behind our family's summer cabin high in the Sierras above Nevada City. That day, a fisherman was born. If it swims, I cast a fly in its direction.

“Today, a few weeks shy of my 79th birthday, I’m chasing steelhead on an island that borders the Bering Sea. To our east is Russia. A few miles to the west, an active volcano erupted last week, blowing ash toward guides fishing miles away. An 8.5 earthquake followed, knocking one guy to the ground.

“Nothing much out here but fish swimming in a river winding through tall grasslands inhabited by moose and bears. You have to pay attention and keep your eyes peeled as they can sneak up on you at times. The conditions have been windy and cold with rain and overcast days. The river was blown out last week. We hope this week will be better. If not, we sit and read books.

“If you consider hooking a steelhead, it was a good start today. However, if you think landing one is an important part too, it wasn't. Given the conditions we are dealing with, I felt fortunate to have hooked a couple, but winds in excess of 20 mph with gusts more than 30 made for a long day and missed opportunities. Tomorrow the weather is supposed to improve and with it, hopefully my catch rate will too.”

Steve’s next day report was succinct: The weather turned good.

“Today was a banner day for me and my fishing buddy, Steve Starke. Together we hooked, landed, and lost a great many chrome steelhead, so fresh from the salt that they still had sea lice.

“Seven decades have passed since that first fishing lesson with my father. In this time, I have found that Thoreau's comment, ‘Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after,’ to be true. Fly fishing for steelhead is at best a solitary sport. While friends and a guide may accompany you on the trip, you are on your own when you step into the river and make your first cast. Instantly you feel the river's current brushing against your waders, and you hear what I like to call ‘water music.’

“I also know this to be true: church pews would be filled to the brim if their choir could bestow a sense of spiritual well-being equal to what I find when wading a steelhead river.”