Fishbrain in the field: Ohio's unsalted steel

The commotion began just as the first rays of the sun touched down on the Chagrin River. Perched above the river on a walking bridge, we watched as Fishbrain’s own Nate Roman held his centerpin rod high above his head, keeping a deep bend in the tip. 

Surface water broke in a splash as Nate fought the fish and moved through the low light and gently over the rocks for better footing and position. He worked it out of the current and gently into his net, then into his hands. An iconic silver stood out in Nate’s hands, made even more brilliant with the cold river water running over it. 

The first steelhead was on the board in Ohio.

Ohio's Chagrin River

There is a lot of debate surrounding the moniker of steelhead around the Great Lakes. The name is usually reserved for West Coast rainbow trout that live most of their lives in the ocean, only returning to their birth river to spawn. Great Lakes steelhead are planted rainbow trout, which use the Great Lakes as a surrogate ocean. The fish spend most of their time in the lakes feeding and growing, only coming back up river to spawn. No salt, no steel is a common phrase among those who don't believe these fish are a true steelhead.

Regardless of what to call them, the rivers of Ohio are teeming with different waves of these fish from October well into spring. These runs are supplemented each year with deposits of hatchery fish as well.  Ohio's Castalia State Fish Hatchery released over 450,000 fish in 2022 alone. 

Fishbrain’s Stina Granberg and myself set our sights on Ohio after our own native buckeye Nate Roman continued to rave about the fishery and the opportunities at the so-called steelhead. 

Steelhead migrations often coincide with precipitation and rising and falling river levels, whether in the ocean or a Great Lake. We lucked out with the weather as a rainstorm hit the area around a week before our fishing trip, surging the first few waves of fish into the Lake Erie river systems fondly known as steelhead alley.

We pulled into a local park at first light to meet with Nate and his steelheading buddy Taylor. The Chagrin River cut through the middle of the park, with plenty of river access and even paved walking paths that followed the river. A pedestrian bridge led us across the river and a flight of stone steps brought us down to the river. Reds and orange leaves covered the trees along the river and bordered the water as it snaked its way toward Lake Erie.

Early fall steelhead fishing means a variety of lures and baits can work. We split up between bouncing salmon roe, running spinners and even some egg fly patterns to start, with Stina on a spinning rod, Nate on a centerpin rod and myself with a fly rod. 

The winning bait was decided rather quickly. It wasn’t even thirty minutes casting into the seem before Nate’s bobber went down, his rod tip doubled over and his yells echoed down the otherwise quiet river.

It didn't come as a surprise to anyone that Nate was the first to hook into a steelhead. He’s spent years chasing steelhead in the Cleveland river ways and his technique with the centerpin proved incredibly effective.

STEELHEADING WITH THE CENTERPIN 

The beauty of fishing a centerpin rod and reel combo is your ability to extend the drift of your bait much farther than a spinning rod. The centerpin has no drag system, which means as your bait drifts down stream it's easy to allow more line out, giving you a longer and more natural drift.

Steelhead tend to hold on the bottom of the river and the name of the game is get your bait down toward the bottom as fast as possible. The earlier you can get your bait to the bottom, the more of the run you can fish. This is double true with a centerpin as you can fish an even longer stretch of the run. The arguable drawback to the centerpin is with no drag system you have to palm your reel to fight a fish. This can be seen as an extra challenge, or an extra thrill. 

The bite turned off abruptly as the sun rose, shedding more light on the drift and making the fish wearier. We hopped back on the walking path and headed further downstream. The next hole Nate took us to was a large cut bank on the far side, and a gravel bar on our side. The drift had one infuriating feature, however. A large snag sat right along the cut bank and its branches snaked deep under the water like a root system. Some steelhead anglers like to say if you’re getting snagged then you’re in the right place, but this bait eating tree was a little much.

Even worse was the fact that the fish seemed to congregate around it. Nate and Taylor managed to pull two more steelhead out of the deep hole, just past the snag.

By now, Stina switched the jig on the end of her line to drifting salmon eggs with a pencil bobber, still trying to hook up with her first fish of the day.

Nate stood with Stina, hip deep in the water, pointing across the river as to where she should cast. The morning chill was long gone, as were all our jackets. The midday sun beat down on the river as Stina cast her eggs, weight and bobber set up just where Nate directed. We all watched and held our breath as the pencil bobber slowly floated past the line eating snag. 

In our collected horror/excitement we watched as the slim bobber completely submerged without warning. Instinctively, Stina set the hook, but it felt like hours before any of us could make out if the bend in her tip was another sacrifice to our snag tormentor, or not.

None of us dared to breathe, until Stina’s rod tip began to thrash and shake under its own power.

Nate, Taylor and I all cheered and Stina’s drag buzzed as the fish made its first of many runs. 

Stina moved up and down the river bank, following the fish and keeping her rod tip tight and high. She gently worked the fish back to Nate, who netted the fish with the skill and love of someone who not only chases these fish, but adores them as well.

Stina reached into the net, removed the hook and took the fish by the tail, supporting its body and keeping it partially submerged. She glowed at the sight of her first steelhead reflecting some of the love displayed by Nate and Taylor. 

As is best practice with cold water species, we never took the fish from the water and minimized the time we handled it. They may be hatchery raised fish, but it didn't mean we would abandon our ethics of fish handling.

The hen steelhead gave a strong kick and swam away with all of us beaming in the background. 

The sun had just begun making its downward descent toward the horizon and we still had plenty of time on the river, plus one more day to enjoy the view provided by Lake Erie. 

The debate over whether Ohio is home to steelhead, or not is still muddy. We weren’t sure what to expect when it came to fishing the Buckeye state, but what we found further solidified our ongoing theory. Fishing has the ability to take someone to the most beautiful places within any state and bring out a kind of magic you can only find with rod and reel in hand.

In the fading light and amidst the red, yellow and orange fall colors Ohio is known for, we found that little slice of magic and one of those beautiful places.

Now let’s go fishing. We’ll bring the salmon eggs.

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