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I can think of plenty of ways this state can provide a beat down, but generally, fishing isn't the first thing that comes to mind.

OK, sure, spending a day on an open boat in a cold drizzle or getting roughhoused in Cook Inlet can be brutal, no doubt, but at least for the most part you can hang onto your seat, or the rail.

When I decided to go looking for steelhead in the Anchor River late last month, I had that perception permanently changed.

Steelhead are actually the same species of fish as rainbow trout, the difference is their life-form.

Rainbows spend their entire lives in fresh water while steelhead spend most of their adult lives out at sea.

I'd heard of the steelhead before, and knew the fish could be found from the Kasilof River south.

It sounded like a unique fishery, especially since it doesn't get good until the weather turns sour.

Knowing so little, I turned to Scott Anderson of Soldotna, a self-professed trout addict.

To catch one's quarry, it helps to know a bit about it.

Steelhead hatch in late spring and early summer. In southern peninsula streams, the fish typically spend three winters in their natal waters before heading to the ocean in the spring.

The steelhead live at sea for two winters before making their return sometime in the fall. They'll overwinter and spawn in the streams in the spring.

Steelhead, unlike Pacific salmon, are capable of spawning more than once in their lifetimes, if they're lucky. They also aren't known to feed while they overwinter, though some anglers contest that.

Anderson set me up for my first outing with spinning gear.

If you're not real familiar with fly-fishing, this is not the right fishery on which to practice. The narrow streams and sometimes brushy banks all contribute to make it fairly difficult.

For a rig, I used a 9-foot G Loomis GL2, moderate-action, light-power rod with 15-pound test mainline. The 18-inch leader was 12-pound test, tied to a size 4 Gamakatsu hook. I had a float about 5 feet up.

"That system is about the best way to go with a spinning rod on little creeks and streams," Anderson said. "Sometimes you're fishing fast and shallow water, other times slower deep pools, so it's an easier way to fish the whole waterway."

Anderson flogs the water with his G Loomis GLX Roaring River four-piece, 11-foot, 7-weight rod. He runs 15-pound test fly line and a 12-pound test, 8-foot leader, tied to the same size hook.

Though we used beads most of the day, Anderson said he's come to rely on a variation of flies and beads depending on the conditions.

Dedicated steelheaders are more likely to give out their bank-account numbers than the size and color of the beads they're using, so don't bother looking for that information here.

Anderson said when other anglers ask what he's got tied on, he'll often say, "A hook."

It's not that he's trying to be an unfriendly sport, but learning where the fish are hanging out and what turns them on is more of an independent study than a group project.

Meeting up with two other local anglers, we left one vehicle at the Old Sterling Highway bridge, and drove several river miles upstream, working our way back down over the course of the next few hours.

While shuttling allows anglers to cover more water, working a stretch up and downstream from an access point is fairly common, as well.

If you are going to be traveling, head downstream with the current unless you want to double the workout.

Conditions were less than ideal on this particular outing, with the stream running low and clear.

Like the kings and silvers that make their way up many southern peninsula streams through the warmer months, the steelhead prefer the have more water. We targeted areas where the current deepened, often at river bends with a shallow, gravelly inside corner and a cut bank on the outside.

During the day, the steelhead look for places to lay low, and the overhangs are perfect. The numerous logjams also are good bets.

While we probably floated our rigs through 95 percent of the river stretch we covered, special attention was paid to these types of areas.

The idea is to make the flies or beads look as natural as possible as they drift down the current. This means targeting seams between faster and slower moving water, while continually "mending," or taking the slack out of the line, to ensure a solid connection when a fish hits.

Mending the line too sharply, especially with a spinning rig, can give the terminal gear a jerky look as it floats down river, potentially turning off any biters.

Patience is certainly a virtue here, as is often the case in this sport. Anderson showed this at one point when he eyed up a particularly chaotic looking log pile he was sure housed a steelhead or two.

It took a while to get the drift right, but he eventually coaxed one out of the woodwork.

Anderson told me when we started that if I got a hit I should be ready to run because the fish are known to high-tail it back to the ocean.

Regardless of which direction they head, they're going to fight.

As with other trout, setting a hook using a bass-fishing style will not do. When you feel a tap, wrist snap once. If it's solid, and there's someone home at the other end, follow through again and get ready for panic.

The draw to steelheading for many is not just the chance to catch a big fish, but the wild unpredictability the fish show at the other end of the line.

Setting the hook on these fish by no means guarantees a photo opportunity.

Average southern peninsula steelhead are 24 to 26 inches in length when they make their first return. Older fish have been known to grow to between 30 and 40 inches.

While the fish are tough fighters, remember this is a catch-and-release fishery, and these guys need protection. Anderson had a hemostat clipped to his vest to pop the hook out, snap a quick photo, and let the fish get back home.

Anglers need to take care of themselves while they're out, as well. It's fall on the Kenai and the weather can be just as unpredictable as the fishing.

Neoprene or Gore-Tex chest waders are a must for long days and stretches where river crossings will be frequent. Solid base layering and a dependable, cold-weather shell are needed too.

Hunger should not be underestimated either. Cold temperatures, mental focus and the physical effort of hiking, wading and sometimes scrambling all add up fast.

Lastly, don't forget a fishing license and an understanding of all the Department of Fish and Game's 2009 sport fishing regulations in effect for the stream in which you'll wet a line.

Dante Petri can be reached at dante.petri@peninsulaclarion.com