FFP Blog
August 28, 2009
skywest magazine goes fly fishing
This is an Article from America's Best Places written after a trip with the Fly Fisher's Place guide, Steve Erickson in June 2009. Special Thanks to Colleen Birch-Maile from Skywest Magazine. Check Colleen's nice catch!
Search:
Fly-fishing the Lower Deschutes River in Oregon
What Did You Experience?: Fishing
City: Sisters
State: Oregon
Country: United States
What did you love about it?:
What a “wow” weekend. My fly-fishing trip to Sisters, Oregon provided the perfect mix of creature comfort and rugged wilderness experience. I always wondered what people meant when they talked about “soft” adventure. Now I know. You can have your trout stream served up with exceptional accommodations, fine dining and a sensational spa experience.
My husband and I stayed at a cabin in the Five Pines Lodge. It’s easy to find, right on the main highway leading into Sisters, just about a half-hour from the Redmond/Bend Airport. If the thought of a cabin in the woods conjures up rustic images think again. This 650-sq-ft. cottage was totally tricked out—Mission-style furniture, a plasma TV strategically located so it was visible from both bed and bath via a shuttered portal between the rooms, and a “waterfall” soaking tub filled by an overhead cascade. The resort included two restaurants, a fitness club, movie theater and spa—all open to the public. It was fun interacting with locals. The price was right, too—less than we recently paid for a boring, business-style hotel in a small northwest city. Oh, and the complimentary breakfast it didn’t involve fake-Cheerios, speckled bananas or do-it-yourself waffles. Instead there was a nice assortment of fresh pastries, hearty granola and fresh fruit platters.
But enough about the Five Pines. We weren’t there to hang out at a lodge; we came to fish. Actually, my husband came to fish. I came to “try to fish.” It was not my first attempt to master a fly rod. I have stood by my man in some of the world’s finest trout streams usually with such a measure of frustration that I failed to enjoy the intricacies of the sport. It’s not about just about the catch-and-release you know. It’s a higher pursuit—a chance to forget about life in the 21st century and focus on the pure simplicity of nature.
For the first time ever I had the benefit of a guide. We found fishing magician Steve Erickson through the Fly Fisher’s Place. The outfitter’s shop, located in downtown Sisters just a mile from Five Pines, runs a package deal with the lodge. The knowledgeable staff provided for all our needs—state-of-the-art waders, river shoes, fishing gear, flies and Erickson’s wizardry. With all respect due my usually patient husband, learning the basics from a professional is smart. It’s comforting to learn from someone adept at offering encouraging words no matter how serious the snag or snarl is smart. Having a knowledgeable local’s perspective is an added benefit when exploring new-to-you waters.
Rivers—the planet’s original thoroughfares—continue to carry us to places you can’t reach by any other means. The fickle worlds they create shift with the seasons, the weather and conditions of the water. As we float leisurely in a drift boat with Erickson at the oars, he offers a lesson about the flora, fauna and fish of the Lower Deschutes. “It’s a wide and wild river,” he says. “You won’t find stocked trout here.” What you do find are Deschutes River Redsides, a rainbow trout with an added stripe of crimson and Steelhead— ocean-going members of the trout family that average between six and 12 pounds during the early summer run and get up to 16 pounds or more in autumn.
“Big water, big fish,” Erickson tells us as we anchor the boat. (It’s illegal to fish from watercraft on this river.) He positions a faux salmon fly on my line. This orange variety of stonefly is huge—2-inches long or larger—and plentiful, piled up, mating on leaves and limbs. Hungry Redsides wait along the banks hoping that the insects, in their frenzied ardor, will slip into the water and make a nice lunch. “Big, water, big fish, big bugs,” I remark as a salmonfly dives down my shirt. I grab it carefully, admiring the translucent wings and fiery color. I’m so taken with the fly I forget to fish.
The guide nudges me back to reality and offers tips to improve my puny casting. My husband, competent on his own, gets a bite. These fish are not easily subdued. Tom loses the first almost immediately. The second puts up a fight and finally succumbs. It’s a nice 12-inch Redside. In our excitement we fail to take a picture. By the time I remember the camera, the fish is back in the water. That’s OK. There are ample opportunities for success. Erickson emphasizes the importance of methodically plying the waters and encourages us to move three or four steps after every few casts. When things slow down on a particular stretch, we hop back in the boat and drift further downstream. Throughout the day, Tom lands more than he loses. I do not. But it’s all right. Time goes quickly. It’s well past six when we stop for dinner along a bank. Our guide offers corn on the cob, salad, dinner rolls and a choice of chicken or steak. I am content to call it a day, happy to watch an osprey circle the water, fishing for his own Redside.
The men are soon back in the water, flicking salmonflies midstream, reveling in the fishes eagerness to snap to the surface. They cast until dark. I wade into waist deep water and throw out the line without much fervor. I’m more taken with the golden twilight dancing off basalt buttes, the swallows and blackbirds diving overhead, and the subtle sound of a river coursing north to join the Columbia. Given it was one of the longest days of the year, we were in the water until well past 9 p.m. It took about an hour to return to Sisters where the steaming soaking tub was greatly appreciated. I slept soundly and got up just in time for my massage.
As the therapist worked the knots from my shoulder, I kept thinking, big water, big bugs, big fish, big fun. . .
Who helped? (Did you use a guide, outfitter or other expert?):
Steve Erickson from Fly Fisher's Place in Sisters
When did you do it?:
June, 2009
Search:
Fly-fishing the Lower Deschutes River in Oregon
What Did You Experience?: Fishing
City: Sisters
State: Oregon
Country: United States
What did you love about it?:
What a “wow” weekend. My fly-fishing trip to Sisters, Oregon provided the perfect mix of creature comfort and rugged wilderness experience. I always wondered what people meant when they talked about “soft” adventure. Now I know. You can have your trout stream served up with exceptional accommodations, fine dining and a sensational spa experience.
My husband and I stayed at a cabin in the Five Pines Lodge. It’s easy to find, right on the main highway leading into Sisters, just about a half-hour from the Redmond/Bend Airport. If the thought of a cabin in the woods conjures up rustic images think again. This 650-sq-ft. cottage was totally tricked out—Mission-style furniture, a plasma TV strategically located so it was visible from both bed and bath via a shuttered portal between the rooms, and a “waterfall” soaking tub filled by an overhead cascade. The resort included two restaurants, a fitness club, movie theater and spa—all open to the public. It was fun interacting with locals. The price was right, too—less than we recently paid for a boring, business-style hotel in a small northwest city. Oh, and the complimentary breakfast it didn’t involve fake-Cheerios, speckled bananas or do-it-yourself waffles. Instead there was a nice assortment of fresh pastries, hearty granola and fresh fruit platters.
But enough about the Five Pines. We weren’t there to hang out at a lodge; we came to fish. Actually, my husband came to fish. I came to “try to fish.” It was not my first attempt to master a fly rod. I have stood by my man in some of the world’s finest trout streams usually with such a measure of frustration that I failed to enjoy the intricacies of the sport. It’s not about just about the catch-and-release you know. It’s a higher pursuit—a chance to forget about life in the 21st century and focus on the pure simplicity of nature.
For the first time ever I had the benefit of a guide. We found fishing magician Steve Erickson through the Fly Fisher’s Place. The outfitter’s shop, located in downtown Sisters just a mile from Five Pines, runs a package deal with the lodge. The knowledgeable staff provided for all our needs—state-of-the-art waders, river shoes, fishing gear, flies and Erickson’s wizardry. With all respect due my usually patient husband, learning the basics from a professional is smart. It’s comforting to learn from someone adept at offering encouraging words no matter how serious the snag or snarl is smart. Having a knowledgeable local’s perspective is an added benefit when exploring new-to-you waters.
Rivers—the planet’s original thoroughfares—continue to carry us to places you can’t reach by any other means. The fickle worlds they create shift with the seasons, the weather and conditions of the water. As we float leisurely in a drift boat with Erickson at the oars, he offers a lesson about the flora, fauna and fish of the Lower Deschutes. “It’s a wide and wild river,” he says. “You won’t find stocked trout here.” What you do find are Deschutes River Redsides, a rainbow trout with an added stripe of crimson and Steelhead— ocean-going members of the trout family that average between six and 12 pounds during the early summer run and get up to 16 pounds or more in autumn.
“Big water, big fish,” Erickson tells us as we anchor the boat. (It’s illegal to fish from watercraft on this river.) He positions a faux salmon fly on my line. This orange variety of stonefly is huge—2-inches long or larger—and plentiful, piled up, mating on leaves and limbs. Hungry Redsides wait along the banks hoping that the insects, in their frenzied ardor, will slip into the water and make a nice lunch. “Big, water, big fish, big bugs,” I remark as a salmonfly dives down my shirt. I grab it carefully, admiring the translucent wings and fiery color. I’m so taken with the fly I forget to fish.
The guide nudges me back to reality and offers tips to improve my puny casting. My husband, competent on his own, gets a bite. These fish are not easily subdued. Tom loses the first almost immediately. The second puts up a fight and finally succumbs. It’s a nice 12-inch Redside. In our excitement we fail to take a picture. By the time I remember the camera, the fish is back in the water. That’s OK. There are ample opportunities for success. Erickson emphasizes the importance of methodically plying the waters and encourages us to move three or four steps after every few casts. When things slow down on a particular stretch, we hop back in the boat and drift further downstream. Throughout the day, Tom lands more than he loses. I do not. But it’s all right. Time goes quickly. It’s well past six when we stop for dinner along a bank. Our guide offers corn on the cob, salad, dinner rolls and a choice of chicken or steak. I am content to call it a day, happy to watch an osprey circle the water, fishing for his own Redside.
The men are soon back in the water, flicking salmonflies midstream, reveling in the fishes eagerness to snap to the surface. They cast until dark. I wade into waist deep water and throw out the line without much fervor. I’m more taken with the golden twilight dancing off basalt buttes, the swallows and blackbirds diving overhead, and the subtle sound of a river coursing north to join the Columbia. Given it was one of the longest days of the year, we were in the water until well past 9 p.m. It took about an hour to return to Sisters where the steaming soaking tub was greatly appreciated. I slept soundly and got up just in time for my massage.
As the therapist worked the knots from my shoulder, I kept thinking, big water, big bugs, big fish, big fun. . .
Who helped? (Did you use a guide, outfitter or other expert?):
Steve Erickson from Fly Fisher's Place in Sisters
When did you do it?:
June, 2009