Chrome Madness

Like medieval mystics pursuing visions, the steelheader chases chrome phantoms through winter rivers, convinced that enlightenment lies at the end of a thousand casts. The math alone should offer a cure: countless dawn patrols ending in nothing but icy hands and wet boots. But they wade into hypothermic waters in the dark, read river gauges like sacred texts, and swing their flies through the void with the blind faith of converts. They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly while expecting different results. If so, then steelheaders are proudly, gloriously insane. And none of them—not one—would have it any other way.

In this week’s edition:

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Art and image by Blake Holgate

IN THE RIFFLES

Ozzy’s back, and we finally shove off. Gratefully I’m in the bow, sitting on a freshly rebuilt seat and working to find my balance while casting from a sitting position in the overloaded banana boat. Less than a minute into the float we spot a riser and decide to post up, despite the formidable float still in front of us.


The feeder isn’t super consistent, but consistent enough, so we watch and wait as the river slides past as tranquil as a summer moonrise. The mellowness of the moment is quickly interrupted by an ear-piercing CRACK! and I find myself sitting in the bottom of the canoe, surrounded by the splinters of the seat that was new that morning.


This is definitely not the start I envisioned.


I apologize, attempt to pull myself up, and nearly capsize the canoe in the process. “Whoa,” Jon cautions. “Easy.”


I already need a cigarette…


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GEAR GUIDE

a person is holding a Rio Micro Swivel in their hand

MIDCURRENT TRAVEL

“There are outings, trips, and adventures—and then there are expeditions. Each has its time and place, but more often than not, they’re defined by the limits of money, responsibility, and age.


Life can be peculiar like that, offering opportunities to those wise enough to see their value yet shrewd enough to recognize their consequence. A job that can’t be neglected, a relative that can’t be left, a body that won’t cooperate. Some say youth is wasted on the young; I say freedom is wasted on the free.”

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