Positively splendid news from the land of steelheading, old sport. Sir Thomas Farnum, Winding Waters Director of Putting Fish on the Ends of FlyRods, has returned from a day along the banks of the merry Grande Ronde with encouraging tales of activity amonst the river rock and stream.

The fish they are a'biting. And a'running.

Tom's fishers, pictured below, each landed steelhead on the smaller-ish side, as you can see. But Tom says the dad here hooked into a charger of a fish that just marched around that river, taking line off the reel like it belonged to him, like he had a receipt for that 7-weight tapered line and by god was going to get it back.

Which, as it happened, he did not. The hook eventually pulled out before the fish could be landed and our man here had to console himself with having had a feisty tussle with what Tom figures must have been a wild fish. And a spunky one at that.

Here's his son with a fish he picked up right below [I'm not supposed to tell].

These fish were caught using [not supposed to tell that either]. And Tom says you will definitely, for-sure, catch steelhead if you simply [I don't feel right, passing on these secrets. You've got to talk to Tom].

Also, the guaranteed, sure-fire fly to use on the Grande Ronde River if you're at all interested in catching trophy steelhead is [well, it has feathers. I can reveal that much. Beyond that, I refer you to Tom].

So talk to Tom. You can do so by visiting the digital fortress of the Winding Waters kingdom for info on Grande Ronde River guided steelhead fishing. Tell them the Gearboat Chronicles sent you. Also, tell them I need my pyrex dish back. The one from Thanksgiving that had the casserole in it with the baked funyuns on top. And tell them --  you know what, I'll just click on the link and tell them myself. Thanks, though. 

Speaking of Thanksgiving dishes, boy am I embarrassed. If you made Morgan Jenkins' Ultra-Famous Three Alarm Cranberry Chutney like I told you to for the holiday, well, I forgot to mention the diced red onion. Damnit.

I remembered when I was making it myself. It looks like this:

And tastes like a gang of cranberries got into a fight with a jar of horseradish and some walnuts and red onion and diced apple tried to break it up but they all just ended up involved in the melee so a bunch of green apple slices gathered around to watch the excitement. That's what it tastes like.

In very civilized times it is reassuring to know that wild fish will run so close that a man on foot and within earshot of lawn mowers can touch their wildness with a fishing rod.

-- Thomas McGuane The Longest Silence: A Life in Fishing

I'm already not looking forward to finishing this one by McGuane. I'm rationing pages. Cutting chapters out of the book and stashing them around the house in hidey-holes and not leaving myself a treasure map to slow myself down because sometimes you get into a book and your pace picks up because the writing's that good and your coffee gets cold and you let the fire in the woodstove go out for lack of stoking and once you've latched into enough of those good reads to remember the letdown once you run out of pages -- then whoah, you recognize the symptoms and go into savor mode.

It's early yet. I'm only on page 37. But, man. Jim Harrison says this on the back cover: "In The Longest Silence I have perceived without hyperbole that Thomas McGuane writes better about fishing than anyone else in the history of mankind."

Hyperbole by mentioning hyperbole and the history of mankind aside, Harrison might be onto something here.

It's just that good. And the list of people I'm going to ask Santa to bring this to is on the longish side. This book came out in 1999 so I may very well be the only one who hasn't read it until now. I just missed it somehow. I was unawares until my dad sent it my way. Thanks, dad.

Read that line again, would you?

. . . it is reassuring to know that wild fish will run so close that a man on foot and within earshot of lawn mowers can touch their wildness with a fishing rod.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe out of context it doesn't set off the airbag of colliding with something solid while reading. But c'mon, that's mighty good.

I can think of a few locations you might hook and land a wild fish in Wallowa County within earshot of a lawnmower. Wallowa River, across from that mansion house. But nobody ever seems to be there. Maybe Minam State Park if the grounds crew is out. And the hole under the bridge at Imnaha, if Alazar or Yasha happen to be trimming the grass.

Everywhere else you'd have to pack your own lawnmower. Which isn't such a bad thing.

Tell you what else isn't a bad thing: bad weather. I mean, it is, by definition. But when, for instance, you're driving back home and see this cloud squatting over where your log cabin is....

....then, if you're me, you say to youself, Well, I know one person who's going to sit on the couch and read a good book after I light a fire using the to-do list of chores I wrote for myself as kindling.

Pictured: smoke from fire kindled with to-do list.
Also four point buck skull I found on the riverbank while fishing.
Well, my dog found it but I'm the one who packed it out and nailed it to the logs.

But the weather's kind of going our way, actually. Little bit of a chinook wind blowing through as of last night and I see the rivers are ticking up. Hopefully get some fish moving and I'm set to go test that theory day after Thanksgiving with Mike and Patrick and the rest of the Baird clan.

Meantime, have a swell holiday and might I suggest Morgan Jenkins' Famous Cranberry Chutney, which I trust will be included in his Winding Waters Recipe Book and should compliment any Thanksgiving table.

It goes like this:

Take some cranberry sauce. The kind with actual berries in it, preferably.

Dice up some green apple, real fine.

Add a good dose of horseradish. Don't be shy. Get some heat in there.

Pepper.

I think that's it . . . I could be wrong about the pepper, but I don't think so.

Oh, and walnuts. Chopped walnuts. Mix some of those in there.

And, hey, who says you have to serve turkey? Why not braised Wallowa County steelhead?

I don't know what 'braised' means, to be honest. Morgan's the chef. But if you're tryptophan-intolerant and don't want to fall asleep on the couch, drooling on your aunt's favorite throw pillow again, here's an alternative recipe for this Thanksgiving:

Get yourself a large mixing bowl.

Then call the Winding Waters River Expeditions Steelhead Hotline.

Go on a guided steelhead trip with renowned angler Tom Farnum. This is him, here:

...note the steelhead on the right side of the frame.

....then catch a fin-clipped steelhead. Preferably some wild ones, too, which will delight you but be returned to the waters of the Grande Ronde River.

Prepare it. Add Morgan's Famous Cranberry Chutney. And voila' . . . a Thanksgiving feast to be proud of.

Put the large mixing bowl back. Turns out you don't need that.

Then go read McGuane's book after you watch some football.

Hidey-ho, rafting friends.


Here's your update on current affairs in Wallowa Valley, the land of Winding Waters Rafting and Fishing.

Steelheaders: the Grande Ronde is running at 819 cfs. Imnaha is 180-something. Advice from our man Tom Farnum remains: get your flies down on the bottom. Weather forecast this week says temperatures in the mid- to upper-30s. The steelhead are in there, you just need to get your fly in front of them. Guided steelhead trips on the Grande Ronde is a logical starting point.

Here's a shot from my last foray down to the Grande Ronde. It's Grande, is it not?

Just got back from Hawaii, where the fall colors were a real disappointment. Just green, green, green. Blah. Except for the riot of tropical flowers, but a northwest boy needs his yellow leaves, you know?

Want to see what the world looks like about two seconds before you ruin your waterproof camera by bodysurfing a beachbreak and holding the camera out to get a picture of the wave? Well, here it is:

Yeah, the little rubber seal does not appear to be rated for getting a washing machine drubbing in waves. Live and learn.

My brother-in-law thinks me might have cracked a rib or two that same day when a bigger set came through and trounced the older folks who were out past the kids boogie-boarding the whitewash. On the up-side, he got nominated for Parent of the Year along with the rib injury because right before getting scooped by the ocean and slammed into the sand, he was busy alerting his kids to the bigger wave, making sure they saw it coming. So, you know, kind of a hero move there. Nice work, Erik. Shallow breaths, man. Shallow breaths.

Not many people know that my mom, Mary Ann Rombach, was a pioneer of big-wave surfing back in the hey-day. She's still got some moves, as evidenced by this shot of her pulling off her signature "One paddle, two paddles, three paddles" move that won her the North Shore Women's Invitational back in '67.

Aloha is easy to come by over there in that beautiful patch of islands plunked down in the middle of water. But I couldn't help but notice that good vibes show up that much easier when you've got young eyes to help you see the fun they're having with all that water. Remind you of anything? Rafting?

Here's one of my favorite photos from Kauai -- my niece Anna, smiling at sunset. I look forward to taking her down the river and seeing the same reaction.

Aloha, amigos. See you on the river.

Jon

Wallowa County steelhead update: Just talked to fishing guide Tom, who says the temperatures have dropped and so should you for going after steelhead. Low and slow is the key right now.

....last Gearboat update came right before Tom and I got down to the Grande Ronde the day before I left for Hawaii. Here's the results:

Look at this beauty. . . .

Yessiree, I sure was excited to see this exotic species on the end of my fly line. Such a handsome fish. And you don't have the same problems as, say, a steelhead being on the end of your line. Like, will it break me off if I'm not careful? Will the thrill lead to my heart rate increasing to such a degree that my doctor would be concerned? If it's not a wild fish, shall I be dining on Omega 3's this evening? No, trashfish really uncomplicate matters.

And my last outing with Tom that I, for some reason, said I'd post results on . . . that outing on the Grande Ronde above the town of Troy . . . it, uh . . . well I did catch fish. Just not the species we were targeting, is all.

Suckers are really underrated. Whitefish are dandy swimmers. And I will say that I've been enjoying the chubby, frisky trout that I've caught lately. They've been in a jumping mood.


But, uh, that particular day last Wednesday I just didn't connect with the ol' steelhead.

And that's the way the cookie crumbles. That's the way the bee bumbles.

Tom is good at making me feel better in times of despair. He made good sense when his analysis of the situation focused on the shift in the thermometer that saw much colder temps overnight and he figured the fish were adjusting. Makes sense. He used a bunch of other fancy words I didn't really understand, but that was the upshot and by now the fish have adjusted. If I was home, I'd be down there taking a crack at the steelhead of the Grande Ronde to get my mojo back after an off-day, but instead I'm perusing spearfishing regulations for Kauai and will try my hand at the Hawaiian sling today.

Meantime, here is your Gearboat Chronicles guide to the town of Troy, at the confluence of the Wenaha and Grande Ronde Rivers.

Next slide, please.

Here we have a photo of the gearboat nestled into the bank just below where the Wenaha comes in above the old bridge. Note how green Oregon is.

This here is the old bridge. It's for walking these days, not motor vehicles.

And there can be a congregation of fisherfolk below this bridge at times, bouncing bait or spinning spoons.

This here is what a cheeseburger and fries looks like from the cafe. And a milkshake.


Tom Farnum has the water up and down from Troy figured out for approach with the flyrod. He introduced me to one of his favored glides, known as "Ass Over Teakettle," which features some wading terrain more challenging than I'm accustomed to, but gets you into primo steelhead water that makes up for the stumbling around.

I ran through that water, waiting for that pull on the rod that erases all previous casts that didn't result in that pull on the rod . . . it was just that the pulls on the rod last Wednesday had trout, whitefish or suckers on the other end.

Which makes me want to get back out there all the more.

So get down low and we'll see you on the river.