smokerchick
01-23-2003, 10:37 PM
Here's my story. On father's day in the late 80's, I took my three boys to the Willamette in the Oak Grove area to teach them how to fish for sturgeon off the bank. I had fished for several years back in the late 70's at one particular location and since it was within walking distance of our home and my oldest two boys liked to fish and were old enough to get to the river by themselves, I thought it would be nice to teach them how to fish my favorite spot. The way to the spot was now blocked by two new homes but after securing landowner's permission, we arrived in mid morning armed with three old rods and a can of night crawlers. On the oldest rod, I had just gotten new 25lb. mono on the spinning reel the day before. The beautiful weather and the company of my sons helped to relieve some of the disappointment seeing that two other anglers had already secured my favorite spot. So we set up about 70 yards downriver in an area I had never fished. After teaching my preferred rigging and after losing at least three rigs on snags, I noticed that "my spot" was being vacated. Although my youngest was having a hard time traversing the rocks, the older two still wanted to find out how to fish the "spot" and we made our way upriver. It was just as I remembered it. Because the old rod was the only one with a rig on it, I cast the balled up worms as I did several years ago. I explained to my boys where I used to catch sturgeon and where I remembered the snags to be. It was just what I wanted, the current allowing the bait to drift to the edge of the eddy and hang up there. I even wedged the rod between the same rocks as I had done many times before. Then I got to work trying to rig up the another fishing rod. My eldest was mesmerized by the rod, watching intently for any hint of action and the younger two, losing interest in the lesson, went to look for crawdads and throw stones in the water. I was surprised to hear my eldest saying "Dad, I think you're getting a bite", and in turn I looked up to see the rod tip jiggling a little bit. I grabbed the rod and waited for the appropriate time to try to set the hook, sure that this was one of the numerous small fish that used to frequent the area. I tried to relate to my sons how you really had to set the hook hard because of the stretch in the mono line. With everyone looking, I set the hook and was immediately shocked by the weight of the fish and told my boys as much. They asked me how big the fish was. I answered that it was bigger than any fish I had had on before. Incredibly, the fish just motored around the eddy and after about five minutes I started to see my line cut up through the water and yelled that the fish was going to surface. We were looking at the line when all of a sudden about five yards to the left, the largest fish my kids or I had seen, outside of the hatchery at Bonneville, breached the surface. The blood drained from our faces and the yelling and whooping began. After about 15 minutes, some boats started to accumulate (it was now late morning and about 70 degrees) to watch. Fortunately, one was a sled that was rigged for sturgeon. I yelled to him to ask if he would mind picking me up to see if I could land the fish. He said sure and nosed in to the rocks to have me jump aboard. Unfortunately, my sons could not join us on the boat, but they did follow the action along as we drifted downstream in the current. In any case, another 20 minutes and about 200 yards , my new found friend and his partner tailed the fish, got a rough measurement of over seven feet, cut the leader and released the fish. I was still shaking when I inquired as to whether anyone in the many boats now stopped in the river watching us had taken any photos. Incredibly, the brother of the sled owner was also out in the river that day in another boat. He had had recognized the sled we were in and had taken about seven or eight photosof the event. I was lucky enough to have gotten copies about two weeks later, although it was little consolation for my oldest son. About two years later, I learned from an observer of the action, that there had been 22 boats stopped in the river watching us. Needless to say, It remains my most memorable Father's Day.