We wanted to catch steelhead. 

For a local guide/outfitter and a long-time resident of Steelhead Alley, it doesn’t sound all that wild…or difficult. But just catching steelhead wasn’t enough for John Fabian and I. We, like many (all) anglers, had a certain way we wanted to catch steelhead. We’ve caught enough on an indicator rod, watched the flows to find the perfect swing on a two-hander, and even kept a couple as bycatch while walleye fishing. 

For this outing, we set aside our normal techniques and left the river behind. We wanted to catch steelhead as they staged to move up the rivers from Lake Erie. And we wanted to do it by boat.

Steelhead Alley is renowned for its numbers of steelhead, particularly for anglers wading and floating the river. But the big body of water where the steelhead spend their summers has plenty to offer, too. Sure, the fish are caught while trolling in open water, but what’s the fun in that? We wanted to cast, strip, set and watch the sunrise flash off of a wide silver flank. It all sounded good, but by the end of the morning, the skunk still lurked on our side of the gunwales. It’s not exactly what we wanted.

Part of the fun of fishing is figuring it all out…and we did a lot of figuring. We figured different size flies with varying patterns, we figured varied retrieves and depth counts, and we figured locations. Whatever it was we were trying to figure out, the local anglers on the pier were way ahead of us. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was the bait. Either way, fishing has that way of reminding me that no matter how local I think I am to a place, no matter how well I know it, there’s always someone with a nightcrawler and a bobber hauling in the target species. 

While our fly casting enticed nothing but lonely baitfish, we heard yelps and hollers in the voices of kids, adults, retirees and even someone with a heavy French accent. They all caught fish. Maybe the whole idea of being local needs to be revisited. 

I mentioned the voices and ages, home countries and bait, but I also have to add in the boats. We could have saved our pride by standing atop the bow of our Lund and looking down on the stationary steelhead anglers on the rock wall, but that gave us no advantage either. A kayak angler fought fish in front of us and waved, likely laughing quietly at the dopes in the big aluminum boat doing casting calisthenics. We even saw what had to have been a homemade craft made of four small pontoons, a deck railing and an engine big enough to push a paddleboard. At least they had a cooler full of beer.

By the time we tired ourselves of our pretentious preconceived notions on fly fishing, we made some comments about the gorgeous sunrise and ornithological observations, convinced ourselves the one color on the fly tying spectrum we didn’t bring was probably the right one, and motored the hell away from all the onlookers. It wasn’t all just running away, though, we did have some semblance of pride remaining. The good thing about fishing in Lake Erie is that there are more fish than steelhead. 

Our favorite rock piles were free from boat traffic, cormorants, and bait fisherman with French accents. We adjusted our casting depth, retrieve, and flies, and fired out line for something a little more local than steelhead. It’s true that people come from far and wide to catch steelhead in the Lake Erie tributaries, it’s true we still love fishing for them. It’s also true that Lake Erie has a tendency to grow smallmouth bass to weights that rival some steelhead. Turns out there are still advantages to being local. 

Heavy smallmouth bass are no strangers to the rock piles and break walls of Lake Erie. We didn’t weigh the fish we caught, we were too busy fishing, but there’s something that happens to bass over five pounds. The gains on strength and girth make an exponential jump. I’m not talking about the actual precise measurements, I’m talking about the feeling you get when you see the fish by the boat, when you feel it grab the fly. Smallmouth on Lake Erie are no consolation prize, they are their own category. 

We wanted to catch steelhead in the lake. We wanted to catch steelhead in front of all the bait fishermen and strange boats. Instead, we caught smallmouth bass with not so much as a blue heron watching. After having a laugh and sharing high fives we forgot all about the steelhead. For the most part. There’s a life lesson there, some kind of wisdom. 

Whatever we learned, it didn’t come from sitting at home or watching YouTube. Let’s call it a fishing lesson.