for the weekend at least…
Well after a long Friday evening of tackle talk I rose to the sun reflecting off the water and just couldn’t resist, the Easter Springer was lost somewhere on the river and I was bound and determined to bonk him. I loaded the boat with the usual snacks, refreshments, dog and special Springer sauce and headed down the river. I did the usual trolling and anchoring on the CR but my bait didn’t seem to be working. I give up on the CR and cruise up to the head of the channel only see boat after boat that reminded me of the morning commute to work. I change tactics and start trolling away from the crowds. After about two hours of this with nothing to show for it except another sun burned head I start fooling around with the spinners. Another two hours go by, the heads a bit more red and the cooler is full of empty cans and no fish. As the sun starts to head down, I pull out my log book and start to make some notes on what I tried and obviously what didn’t work. After the chicken scratching is done, I fire up the big motor, pull my hat down low and head for home thinking tomorrows the day.
Sunday comes; I roll out of the sack about noon only because the dog is pawing me in that “I gotta go take care of business Boss” way. Here we go again; I load the boat in the same fashion as the day before minus the adult beverages and down river we go. I drop the dog off on the beach to allow him to do his thing and I start tying up what I believe is the answer to the Easter Springer quest. After about five minutes I hear the roar of a large wally boat, followed by another and another. Having sat on this particular beach many times and seen hundreds of boats pass by I think nothing of it. As the boats pass, my head is down tying knots and bending wire paying no attention to what is almost to become my demise. I hear an usual crash on the beach only to look up and see a wall of water about 10 feet from the back of the boat. I jump out of my chair and on to the beach to grab the boat in a desperate attempt to save the day. Waves crash over the back of the boat filling it with water and soaking everything in the back half of the boat. After a bit of cursing to the Easter Bunny that was driving the wally boat, I start bailing. After about 20 minutes of the half gallon shuffle the boat starts to float again and I push it off the beach in an attempt to get it up on plane and remove the rest of the water. After a few minutes the water is gone and I replace the plug only to see the dog has decided to come out and join me. I give him a shout and he turns and starts heading to shore. I meet him on the beach and he’s happy as ever to have me back, although I’m thinking of heading back home and calling it a day. After sitting on the beach for a few minutes and calming myself, I decide my soggy shoes shouldn’t slow me down and we head down river again.
I make the turn up the Willamette, thinking maybe Easter Sunday would have most chasing colored eggs in the backyard and doing the dance with the maker, nice thinking on my part but it certainly wasn’t the case, boats everywhere at the head of the channel. I turn the big motor off below the red can and lower the trusty kicker into the water. Two pulls and a sputter, I turn the choke off give it a bit more gas, three pulls, four pulls, five pulls, what the heck. A few more pulls and still nothing. I see the rope has frayed to the point that only a few strands are remaining so I tie a knot at the handle and give a few more pulls. Still nothing! I pull about 20 more times before I hear the put, put, put that I’m looking for. Thinking this has not been a good day so far, I drop my offering into the water. I get the speed I need to keep the blades fluttering and seat myself in the wet chair for a little relaxation. Ahhhhhhh…
I bit of wind and few dodges to the left I find myself out in deep water. This is not where I think I need to be! I turn and head towards the so called more productive grounds and the rod bends into the water. I do the dance and get the rod on my hands only to have the fish spit the hook on its first run. YEAH! Well at least the day isn’t a total loss.
After a about an hour of the bumper boats I turn and head down stream thinking I’ll troll to the next marker and then call it a day. About half way there the rod tip is again in the water. I do another dance only to come up empty handed. At least I’m doing something halfway right. I re-bait and send my offering down again. About 15 minutes later another fish steals my bait, then another, and another. Hooks are sharp, I tried feeding it, I tried setting the hook promptly, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to try everything and still no fish can be brought to the boat. Finally I get a hook up and this one sticks. After what I thought was a pretty cheesy fight the fish is netted, bonked and bled. I think my day is done and I head to home. After arriving home I think, this is my day and there’s about an hour of sun light left. I throw the fish on ice, grab some more bait and throw the dog back in the boat.
Back around the corner I go, fire up the kicker, drop my offering and back into my now dry chair. 15 minutes later, fish on! After a stellar fight the fish succumbs to the 50# yellow line and is netted.
The day is done. A 38 incher and matching 37 incher are on the tag, and lunch for the boys on Monday is taken care of. Easter Sunday, it’s over. I clean up the boat, turn on the lights and head back to the beach to allow the dog to run for a few minutes. At 11:30 the boat and coolers are clean, the fish are filleted and I get to go to bed.
Have you ever felt like the cartoon where the stork has got the frog in his mouth and the frog has his hands around the stork’s neck? That was me on Sunday, Never Give Up!
Salty Dog turned Fresh Dog....
Taylor's viewpoint
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