Sol Duc River Secret Unveiled!

Secret Sol Duc Fishing Area Discovered!

March 2010.

There I was in Forks Washington, looking for someplace to get coffee where I wasn’t surrounded by teenage Vampire hunters or cranky, Simms-clad anglers.  And Guides.  Did I mention Guides?

They should make a Vampire-Guide movie sometime soon.  I had the feeling that Guides were circling Forks, towing drift boats. Towing rafts.  Towing belly-boats and huge, truck-tire inner-tubes.  Trolling for customers.  Or maybe the guys towing watercraft were the ones who weren’t Guides – the duffers who made it as far as Forks but couldn’t find the rivers.

Whatever.

One evening, with about an hour of daylight left, I drove around the edge of town, seeking a little peace on the water. Most normal people know that many of the very best fishing holes are located right next to roadside turn-outs.  In spite of this truth, I was having no luck finding any of these.  So I took the drastic measure of randomly wandering around in a blackberry infested tree farm near the Sol Duc. To my great surprise, I stumbled on the arrow pictured here, smack-dab in the middle of a overgrown logging road.

Being smart as a tack, I knew immediately that this arrow was significant.  Arrows are meant to point the way to something important, in this case, I hoped, a great fishing hole.

This arrow, however, posed a dilemma. My keen woodsman’s sense told me that the arrow was pointed directly away from the river!  What should I do now?

With daylight fading, I followed my primitive instincts and crashed through the brush in the opposite direction indicated by the arrow.  Behold – I found a nice section of the Sol Duc where I could practice my nearly legendary Spey Fishing skills and try to catch an actual winter steelhead. 

Clever Forks natives probably use the arrow trick to lure out-of-towners like me into bottomless tar-pits and bear dens, never to be seen again.  But I foxed their game and found prime water anyway.

The illustration below shows the 22 Lb. Hen that looked at my fly in the fading light.

She was chrome.

Wild.

No I didn’t see her.

No, she didn’t give me a pull.

But I think it happened, really.

JN

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