If anyone ever texts you asking to go steelhead fishing, they either love you or want to see you lose your sanity.

That text came in a few months back. The plan was to get out again around my birthday and see if the reported numbers of steelhead in the Klickitat were indeed better than years prior. We stayed in a Quality Inn in the kind of town that doesn’t have cell coverage indoors. The next morning we linked with Johnny Boitano, co-owner of Troutwater Fly Shop & Guide Service, a group we’ve worked with and enjoyed before (I see you @smellville).

Fall on a central Washington river means stunning views. The painted colors of the green pines and the amber deciduous trees smattered across the terrain are iconic.

Not long after another angler shared some baklava from the catholic nunnery at the launch, we headed downstream. Ice formed in the guides as the shade of the canyon prevented the high twenties from climbing too quickly. Early on, I connected to an beefy, oceanic trout and lost it almost immediately. Further inspection revealed that the line had broken above the hook, likely due to an unseen abrasion. Heartbreaking but promising as it was early.

My fishing buddy likewise found one, and got his to the net.

The river vacillated between congested and solitary. A few other driftboats worked above and beyond us, in addition to Native American volunteers in small pontoons counting salmon redds. The redds were easy to spot in the water, and we saw massive chinook move around us most of the day, especially in the flats. Most showed signed of decay, with huge chunks of white flesh on their heads and tails.

Time after time, my rig would shoot underwater, and the familiar tug of a beefy whitefish shot through my 7 weight. Somewhere around 20, the guide quipped that I had failed to check the steelhead box on my registration form and accidentally checked “whitefish”. Guide jokes.

This year was my turn to be in back, and if you’re fishing an identical rig, at identical depth, in identical lanes, that’s not an advantage. But that could never eclipse the gratitude for being out on the river, with no wind or rain, and stunning views on every side for hours. Derald hooked four on the day, and got two of them to the net. I had two, each for a moment, but nothing to the hand. All that to say, the Klickitat seems to be in decent shape.

Thankful for time spent in that space. Perfect fall weather, a seasoned guide that clearly still loves what he does, and good friends chasing these underwater rockets is a gift.