State Route 11 offers a satisfying destination

Ohio Route 11 ought to be named Anglers Highway, at least for those of us from Youngstown who drive north to enjoy Lake Erie's bountiful fishery.
I've motored up that highway more times than I can count. I'm always glad I did.
After accepting the invitation of Chris DePaola of Austintown, I joined him in the wee hours last Saturday for another sprint up Route 11. DePaola, who spends the warmer months casting for muskies, is a dyed-in-the-wool steelheader once the leaves turn and November gets serious.
I generally associate the drive through the flat farmlands north of Youngstown with great Lake Erie smallmouth bass. Saturday's trip was different. The air was cold, and the breeze was brisk.
Promise
DePaola had promised a day of good steelhead fishing considering the previous days' rainfall. The fresh runoff would bring new fish out of Erie into the streams, where they would be ripe for the fly-fishing techniques of DePaola and fellow musky angler John Rivera of Parma.
The plan was to visit three streams in northeastern Ohio and western Pennsylvania. As we drove north, he described the nuances of the tributaries and how he prefers to fish them.
"Each is different, but they all get great runs of steelhead," DePaola said.
It was still dark when we arrived at our first stop. We pulled on waders and trudged down the trail to a run between riffles. It's a classic spot in terms of where steelhead prefer to hold, but I've promised I won't reveal its location because my hosts wish to avoid a stampede.
Within minutes, I understood their reasoning. Before I even made a cast, Rivera was hooked up to a hard-charging steelhead. It leaped into the frosty air and crashed back into the stream several times before the hook pulled free.
DePaola, meanwhile, offered a few tips about how I should work the run with the tiny fly several feet below the strike indicator on my line. I was using a noodle rod, aptly named for the extremely limber action necessary to absorb the steelhead's tremendous power and withstand the strain such a fish can deliver to the 8-pound-test fluorocarbon main line and 6-pound leader.
My first few casts missed the mark and the fly drifted unmolested through the run. I finally hit the spot right and the rig caught the seam in the current where, DePaola assured me, the trout would be lurking.
The strike indicator darted under the surface and I jerked but missed the first take. Soon enough, however, another fish took the fly and I was hooked up with a silver bullet that churned in the clear water like an underwater twister before rocketing up and out of the stream like a missile launched from a submarine.
That was fun. Time for another. Ten minutes later, a big female -- identifiable by her color and the smooth lines of her jaw -- grabbed my fly and headed upstream as though jet-propelled. The noodle rod worked like a charm and the fish eventually tired to the point where I could guide it into the net DePaola had waiting.
Morning highlight
The highlight for the morning was a 10-pound male whose crimson stripe streaked the steel-colored flank of the fish. An artist couldn't have painted it better. After a quick pose for a photograph, I returned the fish to the river.
Fall steelhead fishing is a numbers game. Every time it rains over the Lake Erie watershed, the streams swell and new fish move in from the big water. That constant replenishment is assurance for steelhead anglers, who time their efforts to coincide when the streams are clear enough for the fish to see and strike lures that range from tiny flies to flashy spoons and spinners to live minnows and natural spawn.
DePaola and Rivera are fly fanatics. They tie their own designs and have mastered the intricacies of weighting to get their lures down where the big bruisers lurk in the hidden slack water.
"If you miss by just an inch or two, the fish won't come out and get the fly," DePaola said. "It has to not only be in their faces, but it also has to look totally natural, not dragging or moving faster than the current."
He and Rivera proved the merits of proper presentation repeatedly last Saturday, as they hooked up often. Hooking steelhead is one thing; landing them is quite another. All of us lost as many as we landed, but we were in catch-and-release mode anyway.
Too soon, the afternoon sun dipped low and our time on the streams ran out.
But the drive south on Anglers Highway was as full of satisfaction -- thanks to those steelhead -- as the drive north was with anticipation.
jwwollitz@aol.com