Fishing stories… Ah, the fishing stories… It was a nice day on the river, as the sun rose over the cascade mountains, small rays of sunlight started dancing off the morning chop, like looking at a million diamonds. The anchor sat about 100 yards off the bow, and we sat on the comfy vinyl seats of the Bayliner, ready for action. It was nearly 6:15 A.M. and I had my first beer half gone… "why so late?" I asked myself. Another boat, anchored about 20 feet away, had what I thought to be a plumber on his day off, because he had a good 6-8 inches of butt crack hanging out his pants every time he adjusted his rod. My friend and I, thoroughly entertained by some of the people around us just giggled, with a few outbursts of full on laughter, about how much cooler we were than ANYONE else on the river. Yes, it was great to be us. Right about then, it all happened… My buddies rod took a dive, once, twice a third dip, and he smashed it. I thought "I wonder if this fish has a face left?" Although not questioning his ability. The fight lasted about 10 minutes, we had drifted down about a quarter mile, and netted a nice native hen. Unhooking her in front of a hundred boats that had no fish, and letting her go, was self inflating to say the least… Once again, we praised ourselves for being so cool, and motored back up to our spot. Yep, we really had it down to a science. After tying the anchor back on, and letting the rods out, we cracked our second beer. "This is going to be a hell of a day" my buddy said, "a hell of a day" I confirmed.
We sat silently in the splendor of the morning, the crisp morning air taking a bite out of our fingers, and watched the river turn from gray to a bright green as the sun eased into the sky. We talked about things like… what would happen if the sun exploded, how did we get so cool, what Lewis and Clark must have seen, how we got so cool, what would happen if the Dam gave way, how we got to be so cool, that nice fish we just gave another chance, how we got so cool…respect for releasing native fish. You know, stuff like that.
It was about an hour later, we had a rod bend under the pressure of another bite. It was my buddies turn again, I released the anchor, got the boat running and he played the fish perfectly into the net. Another native hen. We released it back to the river, watching it dart off like a shadowy ghost. This one wasn't quite as large, but a nice fish all the same. We were hoping to catch one of those hatchery fish so we could break the newest fish club in, but we were happy just the same… We drank some more beer, a little coffee, watched a few others catch fish, and started to let our minds wander. We were both tired from the night before, Me from driving, and my buddy from having a few drinks after work, and assembling a nice collection of whores to meet his buddy… It was close 9:15 when we got to Freddies to buy all the necessary supplies, like enough food and beer to kill most mortal men. We invited a few random folks fishing, but Vancouver-ites are scared of people like us, so they didn't come. The ensemble of whores my friend had assembled were amusing for at least an hour, but we knew there was work to do, and we knew what we had to do and by what time, so we left the whores to do their whoring, and we left to gather our supplies. Fishing was the priority.
So back to the river… There was a dry spell of a few hours, the morning fog had lifted revealing a couple hundred or so boats from under its blanket, and turning what was earlier a chilly morning into a pleasant day. All eyes were on us as our rods both went down within seconds of each other. DOUBLE! We yelled DOUBLE>>> MUTHA ___ING DOUBLE!!! We might have drawn a little to much attention to ourselves, because we lost both fish to the current when neither one of us could drop the anchor. From the bank, the poor non-boaters were yelling "you guys suck" and "way to go dickheads" and stuff like that… Of course, feeling safe, we slashed back "how many fish you idiots caught? Huh…? who's the dickhead…. Slimey bankies…. ____ you guys…" and rather pleased with ourselves, we reassured each other that we were, in fact, the coolest guys on the river, and re-sardined our plugs. It wasn't but ten minutes, and I had another bite… My friend released the anchor, and I yelled "whatcha think of this you fu__ing bankies…. Huh? Sit there on your cold ass rock and watch the show you whores!" I can't repeat their responses… It was to graphic.
The day went on, and we had a total of eighteen fish on, landed eleven, released seven, and one Steelhead. Ended up with 3 Salmon. Great day on the river. There are times when you feel that you are one with nature, that you can think like a fish, like you might be the greatest of all time, almost a hall of fame day, and then there are days that you feel the agony of defeat, the rain, the cold, it all stinks… this wasn't one of those days.
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