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RiverMan |
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Posts: 1504 Location: Oregon | A avid salmon and steelhead angler posted this story on a salmon forum that I frequent and it's hilarious. I thought you guys might like to read it....you won't be disappointed! Jed V. ______________________________________________________________________________ Being a naturally quiet and unassuming sort, only my closest friends have known that I hold two world steelheading records. One of those, the second, is now open to challenge. The first record, however, is likely unassailable. I believe I am the only person to ever catch his first steelhead while not fishing. I was after Chinook one glorious fall afternoon many years ago. I had an enormous Spin ‘N Glo the size and color of a tangerine tied on. We had reached the end of the long pool under Condor Bridge, and I laid my rod in the boat, grabbed the oars, and slipped into the long narrow gut of water below the hole. I heard a loud BONK under the bow of my Koffler and silently berated myself for not seeing whatever obstruction I had grazed. As the stern of my drifter dropped over the lip, the tip of my rod started bucking and bouncing. Dang! I had carelessly let my leader hang over the side and the 4/0 hook must have hung on whatever I just rammed. As I grabbed my rod, hoping to feed line before it snapped, 12 pounds of late-summer steel went airborne. The fish, apparently brain-damaged from its collision with the boat bottom, had gobbled that huge lure as it dabbed on the surface 6 inches from my waterline. The hook was deep in the throat. That fish actually tried to eat that thing! Thus, the initial record, catching a steelhead while not even fishing. The second record, however, is now up for challenge. As nearly as I can remember, my first steelheading trip was about the time I was 12, 1959. All I caught was hypothermia. During the succeeding FORTY-SEVEN YEARS!!! I never, ever caught a steelhead while steelhead fishing. God knows, I tried, but it was not to be. To improve my chances over the years I bought a driftboat, 3 sets of oars, Abu's, Daiwa’s, Shimanos, Oakies, them new-fangled round Corkies what don’t even look like egg clusters, Glo-Go’s, Birdies, Spin’N Glos, Flatfish, Kwikfish, Wiggle Warts, Hot‘N Tots, Mustads, Gami’s, yarn by the skein, Maxima by the mile, sand shrimp by the hundreds, eggs by the kilos, cover scents by the quart, gloves by the box, Garcias, Fenwicks, Lami’s, Gloomises… (Gloomi? What’s the plural of Gloomis? Oh, I know! I bought one G Loomis and then I bought another one!) Nothing worked. Oh, I caught a handful of scattered steelies, but never while steelheading! I caught the first, described above, about thirty-five years into my dry streak salmon fishing with heavy tackle. The other end of the spectrum was while trout fishing with my son. I flicked out a little black in-line spinner attached to 4-pound line strung on a “Bingo-Bug” rod; a wispy little stick about 30 inches long that would turn your average crappie into a tarpon. A steelie pounced the spinner and game on! A long time later, the fish came to hand and it was 6 or more inches longer than the rod. But, I wasn’t steelheading when I caught it, either. Through the years a lot of experts have tried to find me a fish, but all have failed. Jim Wharton, John Rodriguez, Clint Bailey Sr, Clint Bailey Jr., who is now an old man. – I’ve gone through GENERATIONS of mentors and left them all marveling at my ineptitude. My late father could catch fish out of any water you pointed him at. Rivers, lakes, streams, a mud puddle, your toilet; he could find fish. But not for me. Carl, aka Toothmaker, has invested hundreds of hours in the attempt, to no avail – but we have both grown round on boat food while I have developed expertise at netting other people’s fish. An example of a typical day was Sunday, the 19th. Skip, a boyhood friend who was also a river guide for years decided he could break the jinx. Earlier in the week he had hooked 5 fish in one afternoon. He had them dialed in. I reminded him of my powerful mojo, that evil things happen within my sphere. He laughed. We put in late to avoid the crowds There wasn’t another person in sight. Before starting downriver he paused to make a couple of casts. On his second cast he snagged up and broke off the last of his killer rigs. Before he could re-tie, three more boats came down to launch. A canoe appeared around the bend upstream, hit a tiny riffle and instantly 3 people were in the water swimming for their lives. A drifter appeared above them and started retrieving their gear and canoe. The peaceful river had become a zoo. Skip looked at me and muttered something about skunking the boat. I told him it wasn’t just the boat, that I might skunk the whole river. And I did. The next 6 hours was like demo day for McKenzie drifters, we encountered at least 20 other boats. We saw exactly one fish hooked, and it was lost. At the take out the ODFW checker said she had counted about 5 fish for 65 boats. Then came Wednesday,the 22nd, Toothmaker’s birthday. Unable to find anyone else to balance the boat, share expenses and net his fish, he invited me steelheading. After twenty minutes on the river, the unthinkable happened. My rod doubled over. MY ROD! Now, mind you, in FORTY SEVEN YEARS of steelheading, I never even had a HOOKUP! Time stopped. Birds hung suspended in mid-air. 12 miles away the surf froze in mid-break. The river stopped flowing. At the sport shop in Hebo the clock stopped. In all the universe the only two things moving were the rod and my lips. “Well I’ll be #*^@ed.” I said. I hopped out on the bank and the fish was soon in the shallows, a sleek 8-pound clipped buck. It didn’t look exceptionally stupid but nevertheless, there it was. “I’m going to release it.” I told Carl. “No you aren’t.” He replied. “Otherwise nobody is ever going to believe this.” WHACK! Then he looked at me and said, “I wonder if this means you’re going to die today?” Moments later my cell phone rang, it was Skip, my mentor from the previous Sunday, driving down the highway only a half-mile away. “How are you guys doing?” he inquired. “I caught a fish,” said I. “Cutthroat?” he asked? “No, steelhead.!” Suddenly, over the phone I heard the screech of locked-up tires. “Are you OK?” I asked. “No! What you said gave me chest pains and I had to pull over! Does this mean the world is ending? Are you going to die now?” After being asked that twice within minutes, I started to worry a little. We finished the day out with two additional drive-bys; but no hookups. I haven't died yet, either. So, there it is my friends. The bar has been raised. If you can start a skunk streak today, you'll break my record in 2054. On your mark, get set, GO! | ||
| The Yeti |
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| HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! good one buddy!!! | |||
| pete_k |
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Makes me feel lucky  | |||
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