Combat fishing has its moments. One I distinctly remember occured at this short race on a small creek as it spilled into an estuary--everyone fishes the mouth, and snagging is common, as so many salmon stack up that it's hard to pull your line outta the water without puncturing piscatorial anus. Well, some folks of the linguistic or cognitive minority ignored the guys walking fish down, and suffered tangles constantly because of it. This old man above me was getting a kick out of it--giggling to himself like a drunk schoolgirl. And he tosses his line out there--a huge hook and a tuft of yarn on 50# fireline or spiderwire or some such stuff...he lets out a "YeeHaw!" as a tail-biting king does a 180 and heads downstream. I yanked my line out just in time. the old man didn't move. He just kept his pole over the water and let that fish tear downstream, letting out line, a huge grin on his face. Then he put his thumb down. A few seconds later a collective "Ohhhhhh" passed through the crowd as their gear joined their neighbors' on this guy's line...and then, the old man yanked twice, sharply, dropping a dozen corkies and hooks into the creek. Can't shake his smile--like the schoolyard bully shaking down his peers.

Another common sight at combat zones is the poor fool who's waded out into the stream and then been circled, hog tied, and upended by a hooked fish.