As written by Ed Call:

Useless report, you've been warned.

Headed to the Satsop on an opportune adventure day. Connected with Brian at Oh Dark Early and headed to the Satsop. Drove to Shaffer State Park in the rain. Arrived at Shafer State Park in the rain. Dropped off the two-toon and geared it up at Shafer State Park in the rain. The Satsop at this point was running pretty low and quite clear despite the rain that fell the past two nights and which was pouring now. Parked up front, returned to the launch and began the Satsop Slop and Skunk. Passed under the bridge entering the legal fishing zone. Brian was rigged up and started making his casts.

If you've been on the Satsop before in low flows you know that the first mile or so of float will leave rock hopping, dragging and squeezing through some tight spots as you attempt to be pushed with the flow into the banks that have heavily overhanging brush. Since my two-toon does not have a rower's platform and sits low (more on that later) I was able to Fred Flintstone through a few really low spots. Brian had to exit and assist drag in a few others up here right out of the chute. I assured him, from my memory of past trips here, that we would be fine in many places very soon.

Arriving at the confluence with Decker Creek I noted how much is has changed in the two years since I've been there. We saw one other gear and egg angler here and there were three headed down from the nearby roadway access. He told us he did not mind if we fished the hole too, plenty of space to go along. We thanked him but moved on to areas less accessible by foot. Brian continues to cast after we've left the Decker Creek area.

Brian continues to fish as I row a pretty easy stretch. I am actually having a very good time at this point because I'm remembering fishing adventures in this area in my past. Reflecting upon a recent conversation with Jerry D also makes me think that there is something special about each trip, and each trip draws on something special from trips past. I've fished from that high bank on the right when the water was so high that my toes were wet, now eight feet above the river. I have caught chum, quite a few of them, in the woods over there, it is amazing to see them swimming through the trees. The rain has subsided for a few minutes. Brian continues to cast to all the fishy looking spots we pass along. He has worked seams, tail outs, running channels and structure, no luck yet, but he continues to cast.

Passing Cook Creek we see a few anglers. We assess the road access from this angle and confirm what we thought from the road. How the hell would we have gotten the pontoon and our gear down from the roadside access? The trail is far too steep and free dropping the stuff from the eroding cliff 20 feet above was not that appealing. The added stretch from Shafer State Park to here has set our time table back a bit, but we are fishing and we don't care. Brian continues to cast, slowly and methodically putting his fly in the areas that we both must be thinking, but have not said, should hold fish. We've seen a few chum and silvers as we passed by, one of the coho was quite dark with the telltale bright red side of a fish that's been milling about in freshwater a few days too long. The skys have opened and it is pouring now.

As the Middle joins the East we see two bank anglers and pass behind them as if I know what the hell I'm doing on the oars. They both are appreciative as they work the seam at this confluence with their spinning gear and floats. As we clear their area we pull off to the side and bank the boat. We rigged up the two handers and got in a bit of casting practice. We spent about 20 minutes working up and down an area that had a nice gravel bar with current coming together nicely. Brian was naming casts and sending them downrange. He took a lesson and was showing the Echo2 that I sold him what it was all about. Single speys, double speys and a Snap T that made me say wow. I was not expecting him to know that shit. I was hoping he would be sucking as much as me. He was not, but by watching him do the Snap T I was able to replicate it and found it working pretty good. We saw a few more fish rolling, but none near enough to target.

Down where the West joins the flow there is a lot of nice looking structure and more seams caused by a scattering of small braids intertwining and gravel bars mid current. The rain is really falling hard now, and the wind, I've neglected to mention the wind. Driving up river pushing the rain into our faces, the hoods on our jackets are unable to keep the rain from pelting our faces. More interestingly I've now been forward rowing for a long stretch. The meandering pace of the river against the wind has us holding nearly motionless. Forward rowing into the wind is taking some effort, but I'm actually having a great time. Not remembering exactly how far it is from the West to the takeout I row on. Brian continues to cast. We pulled over at another suspicously fishy looking spot and take to the two handers yet again. Another half hour or so here and it was time to move along.

Entering the final stretch with the first of the bridges in site there is a nice flow pushing into a high bank. I've gotten into some fish here before and Brian worked the area repeatedly. The rain has softened quite a bit, still falling, but not as hard or heavy. Ahead there is a narrow passage left of a large stump collection to the right and lone log center. Since there is an angler in front of me and the seat is low I failed to see the pryamid shaped concrete mass to the left of the log and right in my chosen line. Holy freaking crap, hard pulls to the rear to keep this mass of man made crap from deep sixing the two-toon tubes or flipping our asses over and squeak, we are slid up and pinned on that damn log that I was avoiding. Brian was no longer continuing to cast, he put an outstretched long leg onto the log and gave us push back and some stability. I was doing the same through the fin kicking space beneath my seat. We were making progress, but the Satsop was strongly holding us on that log. Finally, after a 30 second struggle I was able to use Brian's foot wedge and my own hands to alter our pitch, re-align us with the flow and, although wet and rejuvinated with adreneline, we were now free of this mess I got us into. (We had a couple of other brushes with some brush, but the log got our undivided attention) Brian returned to casting.

Brian recorded at least four or five tugs, but nothing hooked up. We had a great Satsop Slop and Skunk. What a great day!