In the tall, dark, moss-draped, rainy forests of Oregon’s coastal mountains–a mysterious evergreen world captured perfectly in the novels of Ken Kesey–emerald rivers rush headlong to the grey, wild North Pacific. Nehalem, Wilson, Trask, Necanicum, Nestucca–places whose names intoxicate anglers under the spell of a fish called steelhead.
This special race of rainbow trout is hatched and nurses in fresh water. Then one spring night, the slim, silvery fingerlings–weighing mere ounces–swim downstream and vanish into the sea. They grow fast and strong, feeding on small squid, mackerel, herring, anchovy and other rich marine morsels. They roam ancient migration paths as far north as the Aleutians and as far east as Russia and the Japanese islands. Nearly two or three years later, their hormones kick in and, robust predators weighing eight to 16 pounds, they return to their home rivers to spawn.
