Stupidity, Salmon, and Thunder

The final meteorological guess for yesterday was a 30 percent chance of showers.  When I reached the boat ramp, rain was falling as classic micro-drops, and I debated wearing my rain jacket and pants, but chose not to.  Dumb.

I was wearing my base layers and my fast-drying pants and shirt, knee-high neoprene boots, and my life jacket, plus my wide-brimmed hat.  I figured there were very few square inches of me that weren't protected, and for a misty rain, that's more than enough.

Not nearly enough, however, for a cloudburst.

The last time we went fishing in this river, the salmon were a bit pesky, leaping nearby and startling us.  Startling me, at least.  A twenty-five or thirty pound salmon launching into the air three or four feet away can make you sit up and take notice.  And start hoping one might land in your lap, since they weren't biting on anything.

Yesterday was worse.  We were paddling along, minding our own business, until we came to a deep pool and found so many salmon milling around, waiting for high tide, that the water looked like it was boiling.  And yes, although I expected there would be salmon-leaping going on, it's still unsettling to have them completely out of the water close enough that, had I been ready, I could have caught one in my landing net.

Salmon are big fish, you know, and getting slapped by a salmon could take the joy out of a day of fishing.  And put me into the river with all those other salmon, which wouldn't necessarily be so bad, except I wasn't sure what the regulations have to say about catching salmon with my bare hands.

I know that for a fly-fisher it's considered bad form, but I didn't know whether or not it would be legal.

We hung around catching nothing while we heard distant thunder.  We hung around because the thunder was far off at first, but when it started making things rattle around on our kayaks, it was obvious the storm was heading our way and I, being dumb, but not silly, started heading back to the ramp.

The river is quite small - forty feet wide at most - and the banks are lined with trees, making me the shortest thing in the area as far as lightning would be concerned, but nonetheless, a plastic kayak isn't a lot of insulation, so I was looking over my shoulder for a glimpse of it.  I'm not sure what I would have done if I had seen lightning in the area because, at low tide, the river banks are six feet of really soft mud.  Paddling to the banks and leaping out only to be mired thigh deep in mud doesn't seem to be a lot more safe to me.

Nonetheless, I was looking for lightning.  And a gravel bank.

When the rain came it was real rain.  Falling in earnest.  And I was feeling pretty okay inside what I was wearing until I looked back to see if my partner was behind me - he wasn't - and at least a liter of water poured off my hat and my life jacket funneled it neatly down my back.

After that, thoroughly soaked, I was feeling mighty thankful that the rain wasn't accompanied by wind, because the wind from my forward travel was making me feel quite cool.  That's the problem when quick-drying clothes are soaked.  It's great insulation under a dry suit, where there's no air movement.  Not so great out in the open, in the rain.

It had stopped raining raindrops and returned to misty rain when I reached the ramp - still alone - and just down from the ramp, 100 feet at most, a salmon jumped.

"Great. I can't even get safely to the ramp without a stupid salmon harassing me again."  It leaped three times, each one a bit closer to me, and then disappeared.

But since I was there, at the ramp, waiting for that other guy, and the thunder was gone and the rain was misty, I drifted down to where the fish had first leaped and cast a few times.  Then I hooked a jack salmon.

This one was probably 16 inches long.  I thought it was smallmouth until it ran.  This little jack made its run and started leaping before I could start to bring it back.

I'd been quite busy trying to keep it from getting too far away or out into the current, and I'd completely forgotten to pull out my landing net, so when it got to my kayak, I started to grab it - which so outraged the little bugger that it dove under my kayak and took off again.

There isn't a lot you can do in that situation except shove the rod straight down into the water and hold on.  So I did.  I again got it back to me, still netless, and made another grab for it, irritating the fish again, and it took off - this time away from my kayak rather than under it - and started leaping again until it spat out my little smallmouth bass fly.

Nothing to do other than say "Rats!", retrieve my now salmon-free fly, and head back to the ramp.  When you're dripping wet and chilly, one of those experiences is enough.

And, of course, that was when my companion came into sight, chugging along at a good clip, but too late to see my heroic struggle with a tiny salmon.  And because he just had to stay upstream hoping to get a real salmon to cooperate with him, I had no witnesses.  And no one around to grab a net and lend a hand.

As soon as my rainwear dries out - I put it on as soon as I reached the truck (what was that saying about barn doors and horses) and I had to take up one of my floor mats in the truck and sit on it for the drive home to keep the seat dry - I'm going to put my rain gear in a dry bag and keep that bag in the kayak all the time.  I'm dumb, but I'm capable of learning.

We did catch some bass and I'd managed to foul-hook, but not boat, the top of a trophy-sized piling.  But like my salmon, the bass we hooked were midgets, yet it meant we returned salmon-less but not skunked.

It was an interesting day.  It always is when I fish with that guy.

 I sometimes forget that for every successful trip report posted here there are probably 4 or 5 mediocre or non eventful ones better left forgotten.  Your experience was too funny to keep to yourself.  Thanks for sharing.  I could relate in many ways. 

great recap, tinker. perfect way to start the day at the office with a cuppajoe in hand, vicariously living your tragicomedy.

Being "That Guy" and dreaming of the salmon splashing around and wanting revenge. I decide to go back the next day and see if  I could fix the problem. But to no avail, with high tides and the rain that we lived through the day before the salmon had shot the river and where safe for the time being. Took notice of the weather(rain drops falling) and decide to head back down river fishing all the way for smallies. Ended up with 20- 14" 15" nothing on the bragging size. Time I got down to the boat ramp the rain/ thunder/ lighting clouds had past. So I fished some more and ended up with 4 of these " the unicorn of Oregon fishes". Just another interesting day with that guy.

Being "That Guy" and dreaming of the salmon splashing around and wanting revenge. I decide to go back the next day and see if  I could fix the problem. But to no avail, with high tides and the rain that we lived through the day before the salmon had shot the river and where safe for the time being. Took notice of the weather(rain drops falling) and decide to head back down river fishing all the way for smallies. Ended up with 20- 14" 15" nothing on the bragging size. Time I got down to the boat ramp the rain/ thunder/ lighting clouds had past. So I fished some more and ended up with 4 of these " the unicorn of Oregon fishes". Just another interesting day with that guy.

WUT??!!!   How'd that thing get there?

I think surf12foot is pulling my foot...

Oh, if only he were pulling your foot.  Looking for salmon and smallmouth in that river are nothing more than a smoke screen for that guy's striper obsession - and the clever observer might notice that he went alone, without asking me, to catch some.

Great job, Scott!  You've definitely put in the time to find them.  Perseverance paid off!

Great write up, Tinker.  I need to find my way down to your neck of the woods and get in on the fly fishing action!

Great write up, Tinker.  I need to find my way down to your neck of the woods and get in on the fly fishing action!

You need to go fishing with that surfs12foot guy if you want to get in on the action around here.  Seriously.  I swear the only reason he let's me go with him is for the entertainment value I provide.