There’s nothing quite like the crack of a frosty morning along the Lake Erie tributaries. The mist rising off the water, the crunch of gravel under your boots, and that heart-pounding moment when your indicator hesitates—steelhead season is electric.
For years, I’ve chased these silver bullets across Erie’s tributaries—from the well-known stretches of Elk, Walnut, and 20 Mile to the tucked-away flows less traveled. One thing remains consistent: steelhead are fickle, but the right fly at the right time can turn a cold, quiet day into a rod-bending frenzy.
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