One December about this time of the month my old fishing buddy Steve and I had a big day, or at least a big hour, on the Hoh on rising water. We drove over from Seattle after he got off work and camped out at that campground on the north side not too far below the highway. It rained off and on all night but nothing much had happened by morning. The water had been low when we got there and had come up some by morning, but not a whole lot.

We got up early and went down to the lower Hoh to give it a shot. It wasn’t raining when we parked by the boat take out where the river came back to the road and walked upstream looking for something to concentrate the fish. Neither of us had been there since the last flood and it was a new river to us.

We tried a few spots for a few casts but it was a half mile upstream before we found what we were looking far. A big tree had hung up on the last flood with its’ roots upstream. A break had formed starting from the root ball angling downstream and away from us. There was heavy water below the break all the way across the river. There was a nice slot running down the length of the log and soft water on down the bar on our side. The base of the log was about a foot higher than the water when we got there. There was a foot or two of rocky gravel between the log and the water. It dropped off steep into the slot, which was two or three feet deep when we got there.

It looked real good. Any fish that came upstream were going to be funneled over to our side of the river, into the slot right at our feet. We slid in next to the log, which was half buried in the rock bar, chest high behind us, and got into some serious fishing, standing with our back to the log on the steep edge of the slot. The river was coming up.

Steve got a nice brat right away and I lost another fish. About that time a squall moved in and it started raining hard. It was one of those rains I’ve never carried heavy enough rain gear to handle. I had on chest waders, a rain jacket, and a rain hat. Steve had much the same. But it was like somebody had turned a fire hose on us. We were both soaked in minutes. And the river was coming up faster all the time. Can’t say that had anything to do with the rain falling at the time. It might have been raining hard up in the mountains during the night.

Just about the time the water reached the log and we were standing in water on the steep slope into the slot the fish started pouring through, right in front of us, right at our feet. The wind had picked up into a storm and it was like the whole damned Pacific Ocean was blowing into our faces. The water was coming up real fast by now and we were hitting, losing, or landing one fish after another.

It was all over way too quick. In what seemed like no time the river started going out of shape, we were pressed hard against the log in water half way to our knees which was coming up faster all the time, the current was picking up in the slot and our footing was washing away below our feet, and the wind was blowing rain so hard in our faces we could hardly see.

There was a pause in the action and we bailed out. We headed back to the truck with three nice hatchery chromers 6 to 9 lbs. We had released one nice wild hen in the same size range and had two or three fish come unpinned.

Steve had been sucking on his pipe before we left the truck. On the way back he walked into a barb wire fence and tore his waders all to hell.