Written by Charlie Gearheart, this page is about, in a very loose sense, Fishin'.

Story 2, April 27, 1999

Forty years later. Mid 1980's. The Stillaguamish River in Northwest Washington State.

Not a cane pole, but a 4 oz. 10 ft. fly rod that cost $400- to $500-, fly reel at $200-, fly line at $60-, wading shoes $90- and waders $180- and etc. Enough flies, that if I dropped them all in the River, it would make the River rise six inches.

As I walk from one Run to another, I reflect back and get a flash of Goose Creek. What am I doing? Wow! The adult thing with expensive toys. Chasing bigger Minners (minnows).

The Minners that I am chasing are the kind that can give you a heart attack on a fly rod, and are far from being Minners. These fish are known as Steelhead.

For those of you who are not familiar with these fish, they are, (we think), Rainbow Trout that are of a special breed. Born or hatched in the Rivers of the West and Northwest Coast from California to Alaska, and also the eastern coast of Russia, Steelhead are now being introduced to a few more places on this Earth.

These Steelhead, once hatched (usually in late Winter and Spring), live in the stream for one to three years. They live and basically have the same habits as Trout while still in the River. Until one day, (ususally in Spring) the Mama (Earth) signals them to start their Migration downstream and head for the ocean. There they live for one to three years and travel ocean waters as far away as the Aleutians in Alaska in search of food.

Here they grow rapidly, and when the Mama tells them it's time, they return to their native stream to spawn and start the cycle all over again.

Biologists and Scientists have studied the Steelhead for years and have many theories. Could it be possible that that all Rainbow Trout are Steelhead that became land-locked through natural disasters and cataclysms. Like religion, we could go on forever with our theories. But since we believe today that all life started in the ocean, it's like the chicken, which came first?

The Steelhead or the Trout. If any of you Professionals wish to argue with me about this, please don't waste your time. I'm too busy fishing to argue about theories.

When these Steelhead return from the ocean, they are Beautiful, Powerful, chrome-bright on their sides, white on the belly, and steel or gun-metal gray on the top of their heads and back. Hence, Steelhead. They can weigh anywhere from one to thirty-some pounds, depending on how many years they lived in the stream and ocean. Generally they weigh from six to sixteen pounds, What a Minner!

I have spent a lifetime fishing for Minnows, Bass, Sunfish, Catfish, and pretty much all fresh-water fish, except Pike and Muskie. I love and have a respect for all fish. But when you have been bitten by the Steelhead bug, believe me, you become an addict. The mystique and beauty of these fish have caused most of us fishers to become labeled as "Steelhead Bums."

Unlike most of us humans who have become so scattered and lost and can never seem to find our way home, the Steelhead have never lost that instinct. Although they travel all those thousands of miles in the ocean, when it is time they return to their native stream and to usually the same spot in the River where they were born.

How Wonderful, How Amazing, How spiritual. To be "Go'in Home".

I hope I have given you some insight about Steelhead, because as my stories progress you won't be in the dark about these fish and the "Bums".

Story 1, March 16, 1999

When our website was being created I volunteered to write fish stories for the site. All my friends and many fans know how much I like to spend time with the fish and on the water. So for this first story I thought I may as well start at the beginning. Also, these stories may not be written in a sequence from the beginning to the present, but only as I can reflect on them. May we all learn to have respect for the fish and all living things.

Long ago and far away, deep in the Appalachian hills of southeast Kentucky, I was born and raised in a hollow called Goose Creek. I was delivered and given birth at my Grand-ma and Grand-paw's house by Mrs. Amy Bagley, the lady who became my first-grade teacher, and I think, taught everyone in this area their first year in school.

In those days, this area was very remote, with our family still living somewhat on the barter system. I remember going to town on the week-ends with my Aunts and Uncles to trade eggs, milk and etc. for sugar, flour and etc.

We had no electricity or running water or any convenience of the city. As I remember it, my relatives worked hard, went to bed early, and life was quite simple as compared with life today.

Now you may say, this doesn't sound like a story about fishing! Well it's not! It's a lifetime with the fish. My life! I have spent as much time fishing (maybe more), as I have with music.

I think the first thing in my life with the fish that I can remember, was when one of my older cousins came up the lane with some Chub Minners (Minnows), that he had caught with a hook, string, and a willow branch, down in Goose Creek. As I looked at them I was in awe. As I think back now I can remember some kind of special feeling, but no way can I explain it. Maybe more than Awe, maybe Great, Wow, Caught them! How? It was something new to me, And I was very intrigued. I was about four years old.

The next encounter that I can remember was being at the creek down behind Ray McComas's barn. I was with someone (but can't remember who), and we were either trying to catch minners with our hands, or were just watching them in the little pool in Goose Creek.

Goose Creek was very small, only about 1-2 miles long. I know we didn't get any fish that day, because the next time I went, I got "hooked."

This time we (maybe cousin Joe but I but can't remember who else) went down the road to Charlie Allen's home place. We crossed the small field to a much larger pool on Goose Creek.

I was fishing with a willow branch, a piece of string and a pin, bent in the shape of a hook and tied to the string. I was fishing with a piece of worm on my bent pin. If I can remember right, I think I missed a Chub Minner or two. Then I caught one. Don't ask me what happened after that (I was so excited) but I hope I released the fish. But doubt that I did.

After that my parents moved to Eastern (small community) down on Beaver Creek. It was a much larger creek and had real fish in it, not just minners. Our house was on the creek bank up on a hill, but close to the creek. Just below the house was a spot where a lot of local men fished, and not with willow branches either, but with long yellow cane poles.

One day my parents allowed me to go down and fish for awhile with the men. I'm sure they had agreed with my parents to keep an eye on me (I was 5 or 6 years old). I fished with the men for a little while and watched them catch a few fish. I think mostly Sundabs (Sunfish) and maybe a small catfish or two. I would look around at the men fishing and I felt special, just getting to fish with the men.

After a while they asked me to go up to my house and get them some water to drink. I took off for the house, got the water, and when I got back and gave them the water, they told me my fishing pole was jerking while I was gone. They said I should check it because there could be a fish on it. I lifted the pole and there was really and truly a real fish on my bent pin. I grabbed the fish and flew for home to show the fish to my parents.

You're right! It was years before I realized what really happened. Those men must have laughed so hard they filled their pants full of that water they drank. I want to thank those men for what they gave me, a beginning with the fish.

Well anyway...that's how I remember it beginning.

Now if I only had a cane pole, real fishing line, fish hooks, and some of that lead for sinkers. What more in life could I want.