The river greeted us with a class II rapid a couple hundred yards downriver from the put-in at Macks Canyon. Water splashed over the side of the 17' drift boat as we bobbed through the white waves. Framed with canyon walls towering some 1,500 feet on either side of the river and thunderclouds ominously lurking on the horizon, the Deschutes immediately got my adrenalin flowing!

Merril Hummer, owner of Numb-Butt Fly Company, invited me to come along with a couple of friends on a 3-day non-working fun trip. "Timing looks good for finding a few salmon," he told me. "There's always trout and whitefish in the water, and if we're lucky, we just might hit the stonefly hatch and have the river to ourselves." With Northern California's May winter making any fishing a crap-shoot at best, his offer was just too good to pass up. I literally dropped everything and headed off for Maupin, Oregon.

A short drift downriver brought us to 16 Canyon where we made our first "fish stop". Oregon's Lower Deschutes is one of the most visited and fished rivers in the country. One of the regulations protecting the fishery prohibits fishing from any "floating device", thereby eliminating fishing on about two thirds of the river (you just can't get a line to it).

Eric, one of the Numb-Butt fly tyers, and Merril headed downstream a couple hundred yards with their spey rods to prowl for salmon while I headed upstream to where 16 Canyon Creek joins the Deschutes with my 5 wt. armed with a Golden Stonefly Nymph and a Rockworm trailer. A redsides smacked the trailer fly on my third cast, jumping out of the water less than ten feet in front of me as it started off on a long run downriver. In the background, I could see Eric's 14' spey rod bent over as a fish cleared the water in his general vicinity.

After a good amount of hootin', hollerin', and fish chasin', both trout were landed and released. "That fish was a slab, at least 20 inches! Too bad I caught him with the spey," Eric groused. My little 16 incher was a strong and gallant fish. I certainly could understand his disappointment. That fish turned out to be the big fish of the trip.

We fished the stop until we were convinced all reachable water had been covered and headed downriver to the next. Not knowing who or what we might find tended to make us all fish as completely as possible any good water we came across.

You can only fish in water you can wade, so we tended to spread out, sometimes as much as a ½ a mile separating the angler furthest upstream from the furthest downstream. I have to apologize for the dearth of fish photos to go along with my story since the only way to get a photo was to take the camera and follow someone around and the fish didn't cooperate with that strategy. The many hours I had camera in hand, I never saw a fish caught. As soon as I'd put the camera back in the boat, the fish would start biting.

The afternoon fishing was punctuated by the 30-knot blasts of wind, which accompanied any cloud passing close by. This inevitably turned even the most perfect cast into a pile of string floating downriver a few feet in front of you. We responded by using a T-Cast, a combination of a roll cast and a spey cast and continued to catch fish.

The wind continued to intensify as the afternoon wore on, and the clouds got denser and darker. As we climbed into the boat Merril said "Lets get to camp and get the tents set up. The wind usually dies down around 6 and there's plenty of water to fish at camp."

Chris, the fourth member of our group and the official Numb-Butt camp bagger, had the kitchen and rain fly together when we pulled into Lockit for our first evening. Setting up tents was a challenging comedy of errors. A small dome tent not yet staked down caught a gust of wind and rolled through camp like a tumbleweed. My rain fly, which has a stiffener rod, acted more like a hang glider as I tried to position it over the tent to no avail. I finally resorted to tying it down on the upwind side and letting the wind do the work.

The wind never died down. We spent the evening huddled around Mr. Heater (a small infrared propane heater, not a Pewie's Playhouse character) swapping notes about bugs we had seen during the day, telling fish stories, and enjoying T-bone steaks and wine for dinner. (Another Deschutes rule requires you to bring your own wood and fire ring if you want a campfire.) Fortunately Merril had warned me to be prepared for temperatures between 15 and 85. We were definitely experiencing the lower end of the range.

The final bizarre twist to the day happened after we retired to our tents. The riverbank at Lockit is about 150 feet from the main north/south Union Pacific/BNSF rail line and there is a section of double track so trains can pass right there. We were awakened around 3am by the sound of locomotive engines and screeching brakes as a train stopped. A couple minutes later, a second train roared through headed in the other direction. This was followed by the noise generated by the first train getting rolling again from a dead stop. I guarantee you won't sleep through that.

The winds died down by morning and there were very few clouds. Small hatches of March browns, pale morning duns and caddisflys were going on, but the fish continued to exclusively feed on nymphs. We leisurely fished, broke camp, had breakfast and eventually headed downstream by midmorning. You couldn't ask for a more perfect day!

After making our way through Harris Rapids, we drifted over a large gravel flat. Increasing numbers of good sized fish scattered as the boat passed over. They were too big to be trout, too small to be salmon and way too many to be steelhead. Eric solved the mystery by catching a yellow-bellied sucker at the next stop. The large numbers of them spotted throughout the remainder of the trip seemed to be indicative of a spawning run.

The spring stonefly hatch is a much-anticipated event by fly fishermen. Trout go absolutely crazy for stoneflys and aggressively attack them or reasonable facsimiles (flys). "I think I saw a stonefly!" was the morning mantra, bringing the usual response of "It's just a yellowjacket." Just before lunch, Merril found a stonefly shuck on some tall grass. "Even if a hatch comes off, it will take the fish a few days to start keying on them," he said.

We stopped for lunch at Koches Camp. The critters seemed to be enjoying the warm day as much as we were. A raccoon lunched across the river, a couple of bull snakes slithered through and we did see a few stoneflys. A Canadian goose let me know very loudly he didn't appreciate my fishing his piece of gravel.

A substantial caddis hatch swarmed around a cluster of alder trees on the bank. Merril grabbed a dry line and tried a caddis pattern, then a yellow sally, both without results. The fish just weren't interested in anything on the surface.

When we reached camp the second evening, Chris informed us he had chased a couple of rattlers out of the area. After an early dinner, we fished until dusk. A tired group hit the cots soon after.

Day three's excitement started with the roar of Washout Rapids reverberating off the canyon walls a half a mile up river. It would be the first of five class III rapids we would have to navigate this morning. For the first time on the trip the fishing was slow. Eric landed another sucker, which was by far the day's big fish.

We finally saw our first salmon, and humans, just after entering the "Pass Through Zone". Boat anglers are prohibited from fishing the couple miles of river closest to the Columbia River to give walk-in anglers a chance. In that couple of miles we saw a least a dozen salmon dart away from the boat, bright flashes of chrome reflecting sunlight.

It was over 80 degrees when our adventure ended at Heritage Park. Twenty-four miles of river and 3 days of fishing, camping and drifting rapids were reflected in the tired eyes and sun-reddened faces of my compadres. Ah, the warm feeling of self-induced exhaustion from playing too hard!

Bottom Line: The Lower Deschutes River Canyon is a spectacular place, especially when you are the only one there. The only access is by boat, foot, horse, or maybe ATV. As soon as the word about a stonefly bite gets out, the crowds descend on the river and stay until late November. I feel fortunate to have experienced the river without the crowds.

Ten trout/whitefish is considered an excellent day fishing. Eric exceeded that number two days, and I was very satisfied with my half a dozen quality fish per day. This has got to be some of the most productive off-season water around. I'm sure the catch rates drop when the crowd shows up.

If you get the opportunity to do the Deskahooties when she's like this, I can highly recommend the adventure!

Numb-Butt Fly Company offers full service guided drift trips on the Lower Deschutes. They provide everything but your fishing gear, sleeping bag, liquor and licenses. They even set up the tents and prepare truly gourmet food. You can contact Merril Hummer at 1-888-248-8309 or EMAIL Numb-Butt

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