New Year

Tailout headquarters are occupied once again after an extended fact finding, beer drinking and fish catching mission to the motherland. I certainly love the woods and water of Michigan with a passion born of lily pads on the lakeshore, whitetail deer, cedar swamps, fox tracks in the snow and late evening popper trips for bluegill, but it's awfully nice to be back in the Northwest. I won't pretend that winter steelhead season doesn't have something to do with the joyful nature of my return.

When in Rome you do as the Romans do, and when in Michigan I get down and dirty with flat bottom boats, four wheel drive trucks, pac boots, and hot'n'tots. Fuck yes.

14 inches of fresh snow on the ramp? Grab your oars and salt, and work for it.

Nice work on the big ass brown, Karl. It was a beautiful fish. Guess where it came from, kids? Yup, the tailout.

Knots

The first three trips of the season have proven my skills rusty, in need of oil and elbow grease. They've produced one fish on the jig rod, and one fish hooked on the swing and promptly broken off. Failure at the surgeons knot is unacceptable, though the grab and throb without a true battle only make me want the next one even more. Two more weeks of fishing and I'll be tight as a drum, zoned in and living the swing. The fish will come.

Dec 19, 8:30 am, Oregon Coast

You just powered up the riffle, the first one seen in 3 years, and you scan the water ahead for a good place to rest and collect yourself before moving upstream. Then you spot the boulder and you push up through the current until it lessens slightly on your right, and you ease over, four lengths behind the rock, and hold position as the current plays your fins. Welcome to the tailout.