“December, January and to some extent, early February bring rains of change here on the Olympic Peninsula. The massive, braided, cobble rivers I gravitate toward move around a lot. Runs that reliably held steelhead a month or a week or a day prior can and do evaporate after a single rain event, with the channel often shifting dozens of yards away. But that's the thing about steelhead water and those who can’t help but spend their lives focused on it. Both keep evolving. Searching. Pushing at boundaries.
Those folks you hear about who live the van life and exist on canned chili from December through April? They’re no Sasquatch story. They’re real. More than anything, they love watching the back end of a shooting head come through that slow, greasy water. And they’re willing to endure the heartbreak of temporary connection with cherished steelhead spots because they’ve seen so many great runs change, then vanish in their lifetimes. Their only answer is just being on the water. Constantly, and eventually it becomes so much less about holding a fish. That’s the easy part. Finding the new water’s what this life’s really about.”
—Keith Allison, Forks, Washington’s Orvis-Endorsed Chrome Chasers Fly Fishing, veteran OP guide, and the legendary finder of the slow goo.