by Scott T Starbuck, August 25, 2015

Mentoring a new angler may not be easy, but it is vital to the future of our fisheries. With that in mind, I offer a few tips and a story to help you as you mentor the next generation of anglers.

Start with Bigfoot Repellent. Tell the young angler, "It's 100% guaranteed or your money back," or some other nonsense to let him or her know this is going to be fun no matter what happens. Then make quarter bets on the biggest, first, and ugliest to keep the mind focused. Under no circumstances should you get angry with him.

Expect the new angler to set the hook too soft or too hard. Expect him to break off fish. Expect her to snag. Expect him to set a new record for number of times he misses your fish with the net.

Expect her to ask a hundred zillion questions before 6 a.m. because everyone, even the best fish slayer this side of the Rockies, had to learn sometime. If a cast rockets into a tree, joke about flying fish.



If the rod drops into the lake, say it's the excuse you needed to convince your wife you must have a new one. If a wayward cast hooks your ear, say you planned to get it pierced anyway.

If you want to develop a fisherman or fisherwoman, give him or her the best gear, fishing spot, and most appealing baits. When he or she catches a first fish, even if it is a littleun, even if it's just a pond bluegill, act like it's a trophy blue marlin because chances are to him or her it is.

Maybe it would be helpful if I shared a story about teaching my nephew Brandon. My 11-year-old nephew had never caught a steelhead. Driving on the way up to a creek in Oregon, I explained to him that I'd heard of men who fished over four years without landing their first steelhead.

"Four years?" he said, looking at the swollen river above the sharp curves. "What's so hard about it? I caught several rainbow trout in a pond in Colorado. We paid for them by the pound. It wasn't so hard."

"This is different," I said. "Steelhead are migratory rainbows so they have to be in the section of the creek you are fishing. You have to know where, exactly, in the creek they rest. Many times you have to present your bait right in front of them before they'll take it. Your hook has to be razor-sharp and you have to set it hard when the line pauses for less than a second. Last, your particular fish has to be willing to bite today. That's where the silent chant comes in."

"What is it?"

"Oh mighty steelhead, I said,you have returned to feed my people.I make this cast in gratitude. It's a powerful chant, I explained, and part of your Celtic ancestry. It was taught to me by the wind."

He squinted with disbelief, probably thinking, “Taught to you by butt wind."

Brandon was used to playing video games. He pressed a button and something happened. The cause and effect was easy to follow. I wanted him to understand steelhead fishing involves mystery. Unexplainable things happen like a new angler, with exactly the same gear as fishless anglers, catching a steelhead immediately. Another example was my friend Don whom was so lucky he could probably catch a steelhead with a Spin-N-Glo® on backwards.

At the parking spot above the creek, I rigged Brandon's easy-to-cast spinning outfit with the exception of the hook. "Today, you will learn the basics by fishing without a hook, “ I said. “It's a family tradition starting today. Next time, you can fish with a hook. Okay, I am a steelhead." I grabbed the line. "I have just bit your lure.What's next?"

He lightly set the hook. "Wimp" I said, "I have a bony mouth so that hook set just cost you a prawn. Try again." This time he hammered the rod back. "Better," I said. "When I set the hook, I take about three of four steps back to make sure. Folks around here call it the 'Steelhead Dance'.

You score more points if you fall over a log or into the river. But you can work on technique later. For now, you had better set it right on the first try because it may be the only try you get all day -- even fishing with an accomplished guide like your uncle."

We walked about a half hour through alders and firs. The hole was empty because most anglers were fishing down creek. I pointed out long strands of red and white steelhead guts in the shallows. "Someone has been catching fish," I whispered. "Try the chant."

"Oh mighty steelhead,I have returned to feed your people. I make this cast of gratitude."

"That happens when they steal your bait," I said. "But that's not how the chant goes. 'You have returned to feed my people.' Keep working on it.”

Brandon took revenge by snagging on each of his first four casts. Each time, I set down my rod and re-rigged him. I explained a drift angler needs enough weight to get down where the fish are, that steelhead are sometimes directly behind boulders, that snagging rocks is part of the game, that by experience an angler learns exactly where to cast to reduce the number of snags, stay in the fish zone, and still hook steelhead. I said that some holes require snags or an angler isn't drift fishing in the right spots.

After about a half hour, I set my rod back down and walked up to him. "I know your parents taught you to be polite but you don't have to wait for me to catch a steelhead before you hook one." He smiled in the green downpour.

A little while later, I hooked a 9-pound bright hen. The fish made three reel-blazing runs before I eased her beside Brandon. "Get your hands wet before you touch a steelhead so you don't harm the protective slime," I showed him. "See how she has an adipose fin? That means she's a wild fish. Twist the hook out of her jaw with needle- nose pliers, like this, put your hands in the water under her tail, like this, and face her into the easy part of the current until she is comfortable swimming away.



"Thank you, Mrs. Steelhead."

You never want to put a fish belly-up with exhaustion in the bottom of a creek. Brandon admired the silvery rainbow trout colors and watched the fish quickly recover and kick away into green invisibility. I could tell from his steelhead stare where the fish had been that she had worked her magic. "When you see an adipose-finned wild fish, try to release it as quickly as possible. Don't play it too long or it may die." Later, with dark approaching, down creek, I was ready to call it a day. "One more cast," Brandon whispered into the current, bouncing his rig through a likely tailout. And after that, "One more cast . . ."




Scott T. Starbuck’s blog Trees, Fish, and Dreams is at riverseek.blogspot.com His fishing articles and poems have appeared in Yale Anglers´ Journal, Salmon Trout Steelheader, The Sunday Oregonian, Talking River at Lewis-Clark State College, Cascadia Review, and The Raven Chronicles in Seattle. His book of fishing poems, River Walker, in local libraries, sold out in less than a year. His next book of fishing poems, Lost Salmon, is forthcoming from MoonPath Press in Kingston, WA, in 2016.