The tremors and the twitches and the irritability were starting to get pretty bad, so it was time for my monthly fishing trip. It's the only thing that gets rid of them.
I woke up at 4:30, trying to hold back the urge. Started working on chores around the house, and woke my wife up. "What's that weird look on your face, honey?" "Nothing!" "You want to go fishing, don't you." ".... I've got too much stuff to do...." By 8:30, the kids were up, and were asking why my eyes were bulging out of my head, and my veins popping out. "Nothing!" "Are you going fishing today?" ".......... Uhhhh.... NO! Too much stuff to do..." At which point, I went to the garage, and started to pack up my gear. "What are you doing, dear?" "Uh.... I don't know." It's an automatic process, you see. I couldn't stop it if I wanted to. My brain was telling my body to get to work on chores, but my body was in autofish mode, so there was nothing to do but enjoy the ride.
An hour or so later, I found myself on the banks of the Salmon River by the hatchery, with absolutely no recollection of how I got there, or what that fishing rod was doing in my hand. But at least my eyes weren't bugging out, and the tremors were gone. Vague thoughts of recent rain were running through my head. The river actually had some water in it, unlike the trickle it was when I drove past it a month ago.
After an hour of casting, the worst of the urge was satisfied, so I started to pack up my gear to go home and get the chores done. Then a salmon swam past me, heading downstream close to the bank. It was more dead than alive. I suddenly had a premonition. This was not a mangy, beat up salmon, but the ghost of a salmon, telling me where to cast to catch and kill the fish that ruined its life picking on it while they were still smolts. This salmon ghost wanted revenge, and I was its instrument. A few casts later I was into a chrome bright salmon, I would guess somwhere between ten and fifteen pounds. My fluorescent orange spoon was taut against the corner of its mouth, and it rose to the top, whipping the water to a froth. I let out a loud whoop and a yell. And thereby jinxed myself, as soon afterward, the salmon came loose.
Five minutes later, I had a snag on the bottom. It wouldn't budge, so I started to pull it free. But it didn't come free. It started moving, with the thump thump thump of a shaking head. Again, I jinxed myself by letting out who whoop, and scarcely fifteen seconds after first thinking I had a snag, I was reeling in a lure with a straightened hook. I gotta remember to buy better hooks.
Awhile later, I started getting hungry, and I also really wanted some greenling for dinner, so I drove into Lincoln City, grabbed a burger, and saw that the surf was huge. Hmmmm. Not good, however, Boiler Bay has a protected side that might be okay. So I drove to Boiler Bay anyway, knowing it was a long shot, but at least it would be cool to watch. The water there was a lovely blue-green froth, with very large waves breaking inside the Bay. And there were two seals frolicking in the foam. So I drove back to the Salmon River.
During my absence, someone started fishing the highway side. He was using corkie and yarn. I said hello, asked how he'd been doing. He hadn't gotten anything yet. I tied on a homemade spinner, and started to cast. A few casts later, I was in to fish number three. It felt the same size as fish number one. Then it came to the top to see who was pestering it. It was not the same size as fish number one. It was significantly larger, and also significantly darker. It started to strip line from my reel like a cat playing with a spool of sewing thread and to whip the surface to a froth resembling what I had seen at Boiler Bay.
Alas, the successful culmination of my trip was not to be, as it, too, came unhooked. However, I did gain some small satisfaction over the fact that the next time I looked, the guy on the other side of the river was now using a spinner much like the one I had on.
All in all, it was a nice trip. I have proven, once again, that I can only land a chinook while fishing for steelhead in waters closed to chinook. It's a talent I have.
happybrew
Salmon River Report
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salmurai
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