Quote:
Originally Posted by kilchisfisher
Welcome!
The only real tradition is new folks are supposed to tell a story.
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Different new guy, but if you want a story:
Last August, my father and grandfather and I were fishing up at River's Inlet in British Columbia. The best lodge up there, Rivers Inlet Resort, let's you take their boats and do your best to tackle the monster Tyee Chinooks.
Day three of our trip started out strong with two hook-ups, but we couldn't manage to land one. Trolling close to shore, my dad's line just stops... it looked for all the world like a snagged log. I stopped the boat and started to reverse, but the line didn't go slack- it started moving out further into the inlet. "That's a fish," I yelled. My dad gave the hook a quick set and the Chinook realized his mistake.
In short order, the 300 yards of line on the reel was looking pretty skinny. I threw the boat back into reverse and chased the line out towards the middle of the inlet for a good 500 yards before the fish, still unseen, slowed down. My dad reeled like a mad man to keep up pressure the whole time. When the fish finally stopped, we were able to gain enough for the fish to see us, though we still had not spotted him through the emerald hued glacier run off. Apparently weary of traveling North, the Chinook dove almost straight down, pulling off a good 150 to 200 yards before stopping. The battle began.
My Dad stood in that rocking boat and waged a winning war for inches of line with the fish. It is an odd thing for a son to be so proud of his father and envious at the same time.
With the fish still 75 yards deep, my dad gave a slow pull on the rod to wrestle him another 10 inches, when the reel suddenly free spooled, becoming an instant tangled rat's nest with no tension. My Dad looked down in disbelief, uttered a profanity and stared at the reel.
I reached out to the tangling line to salvage what we could from the depths. I pulled in a few yards... and felt the weight of the fish still on there. With nothing for it, I started gently pulling the line, fish still on, hand over hand. The weight of the fish on 30# test quickly cut through my gloves and into my hands, but I pulled on until I finally see the largest salmon of my life, coming up on his side, spent, but reviving. My grandfather grabbed the net and acrobatically, for a man into his 70's, got the head of fish into the net and brought it to the side of the boat. It took the both of us, but we lifted the fish up and in after introducing him to the side of a paddle.
Laughing and hooting, I turn to congratulate my dad, just to find him still sitting, looking at his reel with a baffled look on his face.
64 1/2 pounds of Tyee Chinook.
New guy
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