Lower Deschutes Steelhead Update: Late August
- Michael Dooley
- Aug 28
- 10 min read
Updated: Sep 2
Steelhead have been heavy on my mind the last few weeks, or months, and I had the opportunity to do a lightning trip to the mouth of the Deschutes and wanted to share my findings on the state of steelhead in the Lower Deschutes from August 28th.
River Conditions
The Lower Deschutes is experiencing a good push of steelhead as the river temperatures near Moody, the lowest gauge on the river, dropped to the mid-60s Fahrenheit, compared to the scorching 73 degrees in the Columbia near Bonneville Dam.
The cool water coming from the Deschutes offers sanctuary for any fish, regardless of whether its final destination is the Deschutes or the Clearwater. As you can see in the graph, the Moody Gauge swings between roughly 63 and 68 degrees throughout the day, providing water that is suited for their needs, as well as keeping the fish safe while fighting and handling them.
This is a great sign for anglers because this has traditionally been a common sight, a cold Deschutes opening its arms to the traveling steelhead. In the last decade, we have seen higher temperatures from the mouth of the Deschutes that equal the Columbia in temperature. Early-season steelhead do not see this as an open invitation to rest and will choose a different tributary to make their rounds.
Hopefully, the bulk of our heat is over with, and the second push of fish will begin making their way over Bonneville, as we have seen a decline in fish moving over the dam correlating with increased water temperatures in the Columbia but with the end of summer in sight, the average water temperature will improve in the big river and the fish will shoot up.
This can be seen when comparing the dam counts from this year to last year at the same time. This year, there are more fish over Bonneville Dam than last, but fewer fish over the Dalles Dam, most likely attributed to the high water temperatures in the Columbia and the reluctance of the fish to continue up the river until the conditions are favorable. Ideally, the fish will stack up in the cold water refuges, like the Deschutes, in the meantime. Over 75,000 fish are hanging out in the 35-mile stretch of the Columbia and the associated tributaries. That's quite a few fish, and I'm crossing my fingers for another good wave over the next few weeks.
Swinging for Hot Steel
On to the fishing, which was by my standards some of the best I've had when it comes to steelhead. I only fished one full day, accessing the river from the mouth, which was a busy place. Many anglers heard the good word about the steelhead, but despite the number of campers, the campground was dead silent at 9:15 p.m. when I arrived, no doubt most people resting after an early morning on the river and preparing for the next.
I set up my cot and waited for the morning, mostly waiting because it was about 80 degrees that night and late arrivals came in every few minutes in search of a place to crash, much like myself not long before.
My 4:00am alarm rang and the campground was alive with anglers putting on waders, packing gear, and jumping on their bicycles. Not to be beat to the river, I jumped up and joined the others getting ready for the day. There was no need for a jacket or sweatshirt and I didn't even bother thinking about waders due to the 90 plus degree forecast which turned out to be off by 15 degrees on the cooler side.
After jumping on my bike and making my way to the spot I ditched it by the trail and scrambled down the hillside to the river, trying to avoid any headlamps as to not encroach on other's space. I setup in a spot that seemed clear of other anglers and started waiting for dawn light to creep through the clouds, which took a good chunk of time, considering I showed up at 4:45am and the sun officially rose around 6:15. After about an hour of preparing my gear and standing ankle deep in a run while admiring the beauty of the canyon in the morning, I took my first cast and began the familiar steps down river.
With each cast my expectation grew until I came to the final few casts in the tailout before the next riffle and what was going to be my last cast, then my line came tight, the reel started spooling, and a fish was on. A modest sized hatchery steelhead came to hand after it put up a bit of a fight but was quickly overpowered and my day was already made, but it was only the beginning.
The next spot, I swung behind a few other anglers who already made their way through the run and I tried to reach out as far as I could with my cast to help cover the furthest break in the current and give myself an extra shot, or maybe I just succumbed to the fallacy that fish are always just beyond your casting ability. As I walked down this run I slipped and fell three times, a new record for me, and something to be mindful of when fishing the last few miles of the Deschutes.
The rocks are more like shelves, tubes, and valleys that end just as fast as they start. The are treacherous but necessary to navigate if you want to swing the fishiest water, which usually contains shelves and tubes that house the fish. The river structure also makes a great case for not even bothering with sink tips or skagit style lines, because the river bottom is so inconsistent you spend more time getting stuck than fishing. A light tip, intermediate or floating, works great in most cases, especially morning and evening.
The next fish struck right in front of a group of rafters packing up camp and the fish employed a good amount of aerial tactics in the battle before I was able to tail it, and admire the beautiful chrome wild steelhead. A quick picture in the water and she was off to continue her upstream mission.
By now, it would have been hard to put me in a bad mood, so I decided to stop fishing for a bit and walk around to check out all the runs in the stretch before picking my next piece of water. I talked to various anglers on the river, they were all friendly, and despite the crowds everyone kept good distance from one another.
I spent some time relaxing on the bank but due to being soaking wet, the high humidity, cloud cover, and room temperature air, I found myself cold. The conditions were optimal for steelhead fishing but I had anticipated 95 degree temperatures so I walked around and noticed everyone packed up and left around 1pm, leaving just myself and another angler to ploy the waters.
I intended to stay for the evening, so I tried to nap, but ended up admiring the river and avoiding the light sprinkles of rain, before I fished one more run because the clouds were on their way to dispersing and I did not want to miss the chance to swing up another fish with such good conditions. I inched along the tubes and into the gulleys, wading out as far as possible, waiting for the tug that signals the work paid off, which is my favorite part of the encounter with a steelhead.
During that initial pull, I probably feel as confused as the fish that found itself hooked, not quite believing its happening until the fish starts to make the reel sing and I sweep the rod to the bank, tighten the drag, and everything holds together. When people talk about setting the hook on steelhead, they often say do nothing, and its a fantastic feeling, because there is nothing like hooking a powerful fish doing all it can to let you know it won't come in easy. All the energy in the fish is directly connected to your finger on the line. The next fish I hook I may point my rod at it for 30 seconds before I raise it up, just to get an extra dose.
The third take of the day came right below a rocky shelf in some riffly water, no doubt laying low in the tubes waiting for a purple hairwing to dart across its vision. Another beautiful fish emerged from the water, and the sun peaked out from the clouds soon after and my confidence in catching a fish diminished enough to get me off the water to relax in the shade and enjoy the increase in temperature. I contemplated jumping on my bike to find myself a real meal and a cold beer but settled on patiently waiting for the sun to dip below the canyon walls.
While relaxing, it brought me to contemplate the nature of the fishing, swinging a small fly on a floating line just under the surface and hoping an ocean going fish is curious enough to pick it up. I've heard many theories on steelhead, especially on the Lower Deschutes, because it is a fishery that receives so much sun in the early steelhead season. Many people opt for the skagit method with heavier tips and big flashy flies that are easier for the fish to see in bright conditions, while others opt to rely on sun angle, finding a spot that shades early in the afternoon or a run that does not position the sun directly in the steelhead's eyes.
On the upper river, from Warm Springs to Maupin we often rely on skagit with sink tips to have confidence fishing but I wonder if those ideas are founded in reality, are they that much opposed to taking a fly near the surface once they move further up river and the water turns a bit colder? When discussing this with a fellow guide and friend, his tactics revolve around trying to put the fly as close to a steelhead as possible when fishing later in the season, using T-11 skagit tips, while I use T-8 which is really not that different in the grand scheme of sink tips. We both catch fish, no one doing noticeably better than the other. But my thoughts wonder to visibility of the fly when using heavy sink tips, does it actually make it harder for the fish to see the fly by being closer to the bottom of the river? It makes sense for trout, we want to get the fly as close as possible to entice an eat but there are hundreds of trout in a run and maybe just a few steelhead relatively.
If you were staring up at the sky and a bird flew by close to the ground, against the tree line or close to it, would it be harder or easier to see it if the same bird flew above you at 100 feet? It definitely would be easier to spot and track higher in the air. Now, if the sun was in your eyes it might be much harder to see that bird and track it, a bigger bird would make it easier, but ideally not having the sun in your eyes would be best. Sun angle may be the most crucial element in finding steelhead in the middle of bright days.
When searching for possibly just one fish in a run, I think as anglers we want to maximize the visibility of our fly, making sure the fly can be easily seen by our target, because chances are the fish will have to move regardless of how deep our fly is swung. By presenting it high the fly gets the greatest visibility and broadcasts to a wider range of the run. That bird 100 feet high can be seen by a large swath of land, whereas the bird flitting close to the ground is blocked from view by the geography of the land. A steelhead further out from our cast may cruise over to check it out or a fish downriver of our cast can quickly dart up if it sees it hanging high in the current, whereas with a sink tip it may be completely missed if the fly is not swung directly in front of the fish.
Clearwater steelheaders use this tactic. In my experience many never switch to skagit or heavy tip fishing when winter comes. They continue fishing small hairwing patterns despite the water temp close to freezing. Granted, the river is wider and shallower than the Lower Deschutes and they want to cast further across the river to cover the maximum amount of steelhead holding water. They often use traditional lines that are double or triple the length of scandi and skagit heads, thus not suited for turning over any heavy tips or big flies. But they still catch fish despite not changing their tactics. I fished a day on the Clearwater in December, and an angler at the Red Shed said I should use a skater because the sun was out and it warmed up a few degrees. I thought that sounded crazy but these are crazy fish we chase.
The sun is now dipping below the canyin wall, creating a beautiful golden hour, and the much needed shade. I step out into the run, the same water I caught the previous fish, and I told myself this will be the last one regardless of success. Two spin anglers are above me and I've seen them hook a few fish, some nice people that bike packed out to spend the night.
It only takes a few casts in the juice and I have my evening fish, just a few feet up from the previous one and a bit hotter. Not a jumper, but just dogging me the whole way, not wanting to give up an inch. I stumble over the ridges and valleys to the shore to claim my prize before watching the canyon glow with evening warmth, just in time to see the angler upstream yell "fish on" followed by the crash of a fish coming back down to earth.
Get on the Water
The Deschutes in the fall is my favorite place to be, whether you enjoy the peaceful pace of spey fishing long runs or more fast paced action with hardfighting redsides, and we offer trips through November or even December. If you are interested in a Lower Deschutes steelhead trip, check out the trip options in my blog or visit The Fly Fisher's Place website for more info.
We have plenty of other great fisheries in the area that shine in the autumn like the Crooked River, McKenzie River, Fall River, East Lake, and Hosmer Lake. Summer may be over but fishing doesn't have to stop.
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