Tinker:
This is a different view on "Late Season 'Nooks" (https://www.northwestkayakanglers.com/index.php?topic=21823.msg228002). You'd think that guy I fish with could jazz up a good fish tale after all the time he's spent around me, but alas. Let me fill in a few of the gaps...
A thick fog hung over the South coast yesterday when I left the house. "Oh great, the fog covering the highway over the ridge is going to be as thick as gravy!" I'm not a fan of that area being fogged-in because I, unlike other drivers, like to slow down 5 or 10 MPH until I again have 100 feet of visibility. Surprisingly, the passes that are fog covered 360 days of the year were clear, and it was smooth driving the rest of the way.
I've never fished this location and had only seen it once, when Scott made me follow him over to see it on the way home from fishing somewhere else. That day there was maybe - maybe - 8 inches of water in the slough, so when I got the call to give it a try ("I've seen salmon in there! Thirty or thirty-five pounders!") I, being a rational sort, thought I was being pranked by a crazy person. Still, not having been in a kayak for six weeks, I thought I should go along...
It may not have been foggy when we arrived but it was cold. It was forecast to be one of those days that starts out just above freezing, then warms up to 70 degrees, so you're not sure how to dress. It was so chilly when I started to unload that I suggested we just skip this fishing nonsense, hang around for a bit, then go get some lunch. Or brunch. Or whatever people - sensible folk who aren't fishing - eat after breakfast but before lunch. Doughnuts?
That's when the salmon started rolling and jumping. Here, there, all over the place. Nothing lets me forget how numb my fingers are faster than seeing salmon close at hand, and I started rigging and getting ready at a furious pace.
That was our Big Mistake Of The Day because, by the time we launched - and it didn't take us long to get ready - the salmon were gone. I presume the fish were smarter than us and they went for doughnuts while we stayed put and shivered. All except one fish who took great pleasure in rolling or jumping, now and again, just behind one of us or the other. Every time I thought, "Here we go again, another fruitless day..." and started thinking about heading home, that evil salmon would tease us into staying longer.
Around the twelfth or thirteenth time the fish tricked us, I noticed a pattern: when we'd start chatting, the fish would show up. I tried drifting around calling, "Here salmon, here salmon. Come on back, we just want to take you to dinner" but it didn't work. Apparently one needs to hold a conversation before salmon get interested and want to join in, and it seemed to be especially effective if we weren't talking about catching fish.
There's a tide gate just above where we were fishing. We thought we'd timed our arrival for when the gates were opening, but we were off by four hours. When the gates finally began to open, a few more salmon started to show up and that coincided with the highlight of the day.
There were a few bank anglers up around the tide gate. A couple of guys even older than me, and a family with two young kids, three or four years old. I'd been chatting with one of the older fellows - the one who arrived when we did - all morning to keep both of us from dozing off, and he was a most pleasant fellow. He told me he'd heard a rumor that one out of every two kayakers was an asshole, but since I seemed to be a nice guy, it couldn't be me. Obviously, he was a most observant fellow, and I took a liking to the guy right off.
Anyway, as the gates started to open, he hooked a salmon. Right away, he started calling the little girl to come over. She and her Dad ran over to watch the fish being landed, but he handed the pole to her and told her it was her fish. With her Dad's assistance, she reeled in a salmon that was six inches longer than she was tall.
Folks, it was one of the more priceless moments I've ever seen while fishing. What a guy, huh? I knew I liked him - and not just for his uncanny ability to judge people.
Five, maybe ten minutes later, I started getting strikes but couldn't get a hookup. I was entirely focused on timing my hook sets when I heard a soft "Tinker!" out of my companion and looked over my shoulder to see his rod bent almost in two. He’d hooked a salmon.
"You need help?" I asked. All I got in response was a soft grunt as the fish took off, towing Scott along behind it. I reeled in and started paddling in pursuit, but I wasn't gaining on him. Finally, the fish decided to jump around for a while, giving me time to catch up. I pulled out my landing net and got ready to assist just as the fish, and my companion, reached the bend that led to some downed trees...
Salmon love to run to snags and break your fishing line. I’ve been there and I've seen it done. More than once.
Here's the heroic part I played that was so conveniently omitted in the first telling: I scooted between the fish and those snags, net at the ready, and that's when and why the fish finally decided resistance was futile and allowed itself to be lead to Scott’s net. I may not have any luck catching the damned things, but I know how to get someone else's salmon into a net.
The other fish disappeared again soon after that. We weren't getting any strikes, the wind began to pick up a little - and it was a cold wind - and I'd been fishing for six hours (a marathon for me these days) so we called it a day.
It was a nice salmon, not bright and shiny, but nowhere near half as dark as it appears in the picture. Still, because he was looking at it through dark sunglasses, Scott was more proud of having "...netted it on the first try" than he was of the fish. (He eventually took off the sunglasses and was more pleased with his salmon.)
I need to give my companion credit. Not once, not a single time while fighting the fish, did he start puffing like he'd just run a marathon. No whooping and carrying-on, either. Just that one, soft, grunt when the fish took off. He carried on with stoic determination and brought it to the net in the grandest tradition of all fly-fishers everywhere. Well done, you asshole.
As I left the house that morning, a magnificent four-point buck walked slowly, head high, across the lawn and crossed the drive in front of me. I was sure it was a sign from Nature that I would catch a salmon. It was going to be another Day of Destiny - and it was. It just wasn't mine. A little kid and that guy I fish with, for sure. But not mine.
SIGH
It was another fun day, Scott. You did a great job with that fish. Thanks for letting me tag along.
hdpwipmonkey:
You are definitely repaying your debt to the fishing gods and getting some good karma built up. Stick with it, you'll be cashing in in no time. In the meantime can you maybe chase some salmon up this way for us? ;D
[WR]:
Sometimes I wonder if Tinker isn't really Scott in the 3rd person. ..... >:D
Tinker:
--- Quote from: hdpwipmonkey on November 08, 2019, 09:18:20 AM ---In the meantime can you maybe chase some salmon up this way for us? ;D
--- End quote ---
Sure! But can you wait until I get to catch one? I hope you're patient - it could take another eight years.
--- Quote from: [WR] on November 08, 2019, 05:04:19 PM ---Sometimes I wonder if Tinker isn't really Scott in the 3rd person. ..... >:D
--- End quote ---
Nope, that guy is The Source of Everything You Need to Know About Fly-Fishing (and Other Stuff). I'm just a Poser.