Tinker:
I have no luck with salmon. I admit it. It started years ago when Ms. Barbara stood between C_Run and I and hooked a bright hen and later took unnatural pleasure in chanting: “I caught the biggest fish” because that's the day the curse began and my luck with salmon went right over the cliff.
The same is true with steelhead, since she caught a true trophy steelhead on her third ever, in her whole life, cast - but it’s not steelhead season down here. We'll get to that later.
And I should admit I’ve reeled-in much larger salmon than the one that doomed me to disappointment. Those, however, were caught from a driftboat and folks, the second guy in the boat, the one minding the rods -me - is not fishing. The fellow on the oars is fishing. I’m just reeling them in. Those fish don’t count.
Still, my optimism for catching my very own salmon never wanes. Every year I dutifully take a fishing pole (and a kayak) and go in pursuit of salmon, just like I did last week...
Last week, that guy I fish with most often called to report there are salmon in the bay. He saw splashes in the water on his way home from work and while a less optimistic person might have dismissed that claim as a seal submerging or a sea gull pooping as it flew overhead, I took him at his word.
There’s a spot far up one of the sloughs where he likes to fish for salmon. It’s a short, narrow area with a tide gate conveniently located at the end, just for we fishers, and it’s mostly well protected from the winds that have plagued us all year.
It’s not my favorite spot to fish mostly because last year I sat in my kayak, butt going numb, taking pictures of the salmon he was catching, and he caught three fish in three trips. Still, it was only the third time in 2020 that I’ve been in a kayak - counting the mandatory self-rescue trip - so I was easy to convince.
I didn’t expect to see salmon, but I did. They spent their day rolling and jumping right in front of me - I could have touched them with my rod tip had I been prepared (and slightly less startled). That’s not as much fun as you might think because my companion will instantly start casting right at the center of the ripples, without thought to whether I’ve moved out of the target zone. Once I gather my wits about me, I need to get the heck out of his way lest I become the one wiggling on his hook.
Honestly, I don’t scramble out of his way simply for self-preservation. I’m absolutely certain the season hasn’t opened for Irishmen and there’s a pretty stiff penalty for hooking one of us out of season.
After a while, the salmon disappeared and we thought we might work our way down the slough to see what was happening down there. A half mile down from where we launch we saw salmon rolling near some pilings and gave chase. I was all a-twitter, because if I have no luck with salmon, I have an amazing lucky streak going on with pilings and I was sure I’d at least hook into something.
What we found when we got to where the fish were teasing us was another, quite small, tide gate. The salmon seemed to be milling around that little gate so we backed-off to casting distance and started working the area.
It didn’t take long before I hooked the tide gate and the fight was on. It was quite a struggle to get into the proper position where I could reach my fly to release the undersized tide gate, and just as I had the fly in my hand, two big salmon rolled right in front of me. I wouldn’t have needed a fishing pole to poke that pair, they were reach-out-and-pet-them close. I back-paddled as fast as I could and as I looked down, there were salmon everywhere beneath me, foolishly believing that other guy wouldn’t cast at me to catch them.
The fish and I were both in luck because he was intent on casting at the tide gate where the two fish had rolled and didn’t see the shocked look on my face when I discovered the salmon following along underneath me.
We fished the spot thoroughly, not hooking up with a salmon, until the wind started to build. Not too strong, except it was a surprisingly chilly wind, bringing along thick smoke. My butt was about as numb as a butt can get and we called it a day.
Loading up our trucks, I wasn’t feeling much like talking. Another day of catching no salmon can have that effect on me, but as I finished strapping down my kayak and went to lend that other guys a hand, he reminded me that the day had been a fabulous success: I’d upped my game by catching a tide gate instead of settling for common pilings.
There are reasons I keep fishing with that fellow. That wasn't one of them.
hdpwipmonkey:
:laughing4: another good story. I try not to laugh too much at your expense but I can't help myself.
C_Run:
Keep your line in the water. This could be the year.
Tinker:
--- Quote from: hdpwipmonkey on September 16, 2020, 04:55:02 AM ---another good story. I try not to laugh too much at your expense but I can't help myself.
--- End quote ---
Sometimes the days when nothing good happens are the most fun. I sort'a have to believe that. :happy2:
--- Quote from: C_Run on September 16, 2020, 06:15:44 AM ---Keep your line in the water. This could be the year.
--- End quote ---
We both know better than that. Still, I expect we'll be back there fishing the slough tomorrow. Irrational optimism has no limits. :sunny:
C_Run:
Show me that slough. I'll bring my magic spinner.