UmpquaSpecial
12-07-2002, 02:46 PM
Well, after a year of checking this site almost daily (during lunch at work), we’ve finally gotten a computer at home that allows me to register and participate in full fashion. I’m sure some of the “old-timers” on the site have mixed feelings about the continuing growth of the site since it contributes to somewhat diluted reports and less of a “family” feel on the site. However, the increased diversity represented on the site, and the impressive way the moderators and Jenny handle it all, suggests to me that growth can have its benefits as well. Thanks to all that have and continue to put as much energy into this site as they’ve gleaned.
Here’s a quick bio on me, along with a brief obligatory fish story: I had the great fortune of growing up along the Umpqua west of Roseburg and in retrospect, took that river for granted. Although I’ve spent a lot of time on other Pacific NW rivers, there are few that rival the beauty and the fishing opportunities of that river. I’ve been a fishing fanatic from the beginning, starting with trout, shad and smallmouth, and eventually ignoring those for the more satisfying pursuit of steelhead and chinook. Post high school, I migrated north to Corvallis for college and spent more time on the Alsea and the Siletz than I did in class, though I never developed much of a fondness for either river. I moved to Portland about 8 years ago and though I make it down to the Umpqua as much as possible, I spend most of my free time learning the Sandy, Clack and the Wilson - all great rivers in their own right. I’ve got a drift boat and use it frequently but also enjoy bank fishing when I’m in need of a more solitary fishing experience.
OK, here’s a fish story for you. How far would you go to land a big chinook? I tested that theory out years ago when I hooked a big springer while fishing for early summer runs on the N. Umpqua above the town of Glide. It was a challenge from the beginning as I was using light gear and 8lb leader. Following the fish down through a chute, I came to the end of the trail; a 20' cliff dropping off into a deep pool. Trying in vain to stop the fish, I looked down and with about ten wraps left on the spool, twisted out of my vest, kicked off my shoes and launched off the cliff holding my rod straight up above my head. As I bobbed up and kicked for the other side, I amazingly reeled up the slack and found the fish still on. With plenty of room to chase the fish now, I was able to gain line and in quick order, slide a 25lb fish up onto the beach. Though at the time “the jump” made perfect sense, I don’t think I’d do such a stupid trick for a fish these days.....I think :wink: .
Here’s a quick bio on me, along with a brief obligatory fish story: I had the great fortune of growing up along the Umpqua west of Roseburg and in retrospect, took that river for granted. Although I’ve spent a lot of time on other Pacific NW rivers, there are few that rival the beauty and the fishing opportunities of that river. I’ve been a fishing fanatic from the beginning, starting with trout, shad and smallmouth, and eventually ignoring those for the more satisfying pursuit of steelhead and chinook. Post high school, I migrated north to Corvallis for college and spent more time on the Alsea and the Siletz than I did in class, though I never developed much of a fondness for either river. I moved to Portland about 8 years ago and though I make it down to the Umpqua as much as possible, I spend most of my free time learning the Sandy, Clack and the Wilson - all great rivers in their own right. I’ve got a drift boat and use it frequently but also enjoy bank fishing when I’m in need of a more solitary fishing experience.
OK, here’s a fish story for you. How far would you go to land a big chinook? I tested that theory out years ago when I hooked a big springer while fishing for early summer runs on the N. Umpqua above the town of Glide. It was a challenge from the beginning as I was using light gear and 8lb leader. Following the fish down through a chute, I came to the end of the trail; a 20' cliff dropping off into a deep pool. Trying in vain to stop the fish, I looked down and with about ten wraps left on the spool, twisted out of my vest, kicked off my shoes and launched off the cliff holding my rod straight up above my head. As I bobbed up and kicked for the other side, I amazingly reeled up the slack and found the fish still on. With plenty of room to chase the fish now, I was able to gain line and in quick order, slide a 25lb fish up onto the beach. Though at the time “the jump” made perfect sense, I don’t think I’d do such a stupid trick for a fish these days.....I think :wink: .