It was Kim who brought up the idea of moving. For her, it was a long time desire to move back to her native New England after being in Ohio for 20 years ago. Her daughter went to the University of Maine and graduated in engineering. She currently resides in Portland, Maine and her extended family still lives in Massachusetts. Her son is entering his sophomore year at Ohio State and he's given his blessing and understood why Mom wanted to move. For both of us, it's been a wide range of feelings from excitement to full of anxiety.
As for me, I was intrigued as I loved our annual vacations in New Hampshire during the summer and fall. During those times, I really enjoyed hiking and photographing the White Mountains. With the exceptions of the mountains, New England reminded me of back home in Northern Ontario with lush forests and bounty of lakes and rivers. Plus there was the ocean as it was always a dream of mine to live by it. As much as I liked living in Ohio, it doesn't even come close to New England.But, I couldn't bare the thought of leaving without saying goodbye to Alley and wetting a line. Luckily, we got some rain which has been a rare event this summer. It wasn't a lot, but east of Cleveland they got a little more. Just enough to get some flow and bring in some early arrivals. The window would be brief as the waters would clear quickly and the temperatures would soar back into the 80s later in the week. Monday would be the only day that I could get out. The night before I tied some sacs and I bemoaned that fact that I accumulated at least a season's worth of eggs in the freezer. Nearly every year, I go through fits of anxiety because nobody knows when the tackle shop will get eggs. But, I knew they wouldn't go to waste as I had a couple of friends that needed eggs this year.
I drove out east to Conneaut and on the way I would glance at the Chagrin, Grand, and Ashtabula. Both the Grand and Ashtabula will always have a place in my heart as they're both my favorite rivers. I signed and there was a knot in my stomach. Because I knew I wouldn't get a chance to fish them before I leave. I arrived at Conneaut Creek and it was running off color and it had a nice flow. There were some people already there and I headed upstream. Early September can be hit or miss when it comes to early season steelhead. Conneaut is usually the first place I fish early in the season, because it's stocked by Pennsylvania and they stock a fall run strain.
I crossed over the bridge and there were 2 other anglers fishing below the riffle. As it was like at the first spot, my first drift got slammed by a pretty large fish. The fight was brief as the fish tossed the hook. My first thought was the dreaded first cast curse as most of the time, it's the only fish in that spot. The two guys told me it was the first fish they've seen hooked. I pretty well knew that these old timers where not going to yield the run, so I left after 20 minutes and drove to another spot down the road.
I fished under another bridge and had again had no takers. I looked at the time and it was 10:30 so that meant another hour. I walked down to the trestle and I figured any fish would be hanging out in the faster water. Just like the other places, I quickly hooked into another bright silver fish. This time I wanted a picture as a farewell momento. It was the typical Lake Erie steelhead about 5 pounds and 25". I snapped a quick picture and gently placed it in the water. At first she swam off slow and gradually disappeared into the depth. That fish turned out to be the last one caught as the other spots below the trestle didn't produce any takers. That was offically end of the farewell tour.
I didn't complain and I felt fortunate that I was able to at least catch something as I would have been more than happy to land one. As I walked back with a smile on face and soaked in the scenery. Because I have no idea if I'll ever make it back. On the drive back, I called a couple of friends to fill in the details of the trip. They joked that they'll miss my useful reports. I thought of all of the trips I made over the past 25 years. I remember driving through snow squalls, fishing in the bitter cold, getting up at five in the morning, racking up the miles in my old Jeep, fishing wearing a tee shirt in November, fishing during the Covid pandemic, and fishing well into May. While, I did fish solo most of the time, I will definitely miss fishing with the guys, sadly some have passed away recently like Dave and Walt. I'll miss the playful banter and ball busting with Bubba, Dick, Al, Brion, and Ken when we fished the lower Rocky during the spring run. They would have never thought that I would ever leave the Alley, because I loved fishing for steelhead so much. But unlike the other guys, I have no kids, grand kids and family tying me down. I made my decision early in the year when I told Kim that I supported her and I would always be at her side. I stood firm on my decision and never once wavered.
When I arrived home I placed my rod and gear in the garage corner. I looked at trusty ole rod and reel and we have over 20 years of stories to tell. Unlike my old fly rods, I couldn't bare the thought of every getting rid it. Later in the week, one of friends came by to pick up some eggs. He was still in disbelief that I was moving and told me I was more than welcome to stay at his place, if I decided to come back for a week. I would love to come back next spring, but we'll have to rent before we find a house. Unfortunately, housing in Maine is very expensive and I have no idea how much is that going to effect us income wise. It will be at least a couple years before we get settled in as I'm starting a new job. I'll still follow the guys on social media to see their latest adventures so it's not like I'll lose touch with them.
For the reminder of the time it will be purging and packing. It will finally hit me when we see our possessions packed onto a moving truck and couple days later, we hit the road east towards to Maine.
I will miss Steelhead Alley.
