Fishing Report

Think of the possibilities: Fishing Hole Olympics

I’ve done a little less scouting this week due to the fact that the Summer Olympics have kicked into gear. When our outstanding U.S. athletes are on the air my lures aren’t flying through it.

My bride has even commented that I’m suddenly showing enough sense to come in out of the rain once in a while.

Personally, I think The Fishing Hole holds endless possibilities for an Olympics of its own.

Fish could be scored for their finesse in synchronized swimming, aerial gymnastics and scrum avoidance skills involving rabid seal dodging.

Visitors help remind us we live in paradise - oh, and this week's fishing report

There has been a plethora of stories written over the years about family vacation visitations. Some are humorous. Others reveal the real scientific explanation for premature graying.

Like everyone else, when company rolls in, we try to make sure our guests are exposed to as much of the dazzling sightseeing, saltwater delicacies and warmth of the Alaskan soul as they can handle during the brief time they have to share with us.

Last week was no exception.

Small clusters of silvers showing up at Fishing Hole

Things have been a bit gloomy and wet as of late but that’s just fine because no one wants some brain stem mishandling a slash burn or campfire that would give a new meaning to a front yard barbecue.

There have been a few uneasy weeks where temps were set on roast while the flora was dry enough to flare by just the thought of striking a match.

Fortunately, things have cooled off for a while.

Unfortunately, just the opposite has occurred to some of the salmon fishing depending upon whether you are beach flinging or floating.

Look like a pro when you fillet your catch

Once the dipnetting for reds took off this summer, I starting receiving requests for some tips on how to fillet a fish without turning it into something more suitable for stew or soup.

It is astounding how many processing challenged individuals you’ll find chopping away at carcasses splayed out on cleaning tables with everything from dull pen knives to implements more suitable for logging.

Is it too much to ask? Know what you're catching

I was scouting for jumpers along the east and west side beaches of the Spit when I overheard two men squabbling about a fish one of them had just landed outside the entrance to The Fishing Hole.

One squawking rooster was adamant it was a silver while the other had steam rolling out of his cranial orifices because he was convinced that it was a king.

When they detected I was sitting on a rock listening to their martial arts dust up of words, they took a breath and asked if I was a local.

Silvers have yet to make appearance

I did a bit of scouting over the holiday weekend in hopes of spotting a silver or two hurtling out of the sea around the Spit. Nada.

Why? Because I have received numerous inquiries as to when I think the first coho will make their summer debut at The Fishing Hole.

So, at the moment, how can I put this delicately? I don’t have a ^%$#*&@ clue.

I’m a bit more cautious now about throwing out pompous prognostications after what happened a few years ago.

Early birds catch the kings; Cook Inlet halibut heating up

Last week was amazing for numerous fishing fanatics pursuing fins on the lower peninsula — especially if they were able to drag their gluteal regions out of the horizontal position at quasi-dark-thirty.

Unless you have a vampire dangling from a branch of your family tree, it won’t kill you to start flinging lures around dawn’s early light.

Turk and Willie went after the silver beasts gliding up the Anchor on June 22, and claimed they stepped through a time warp straight into the halcyon and nostalgic days of primo fishing.

Good fishing draws crowds to South Peninsula

I usually don’t fish on the weekends because it’s a great time to cruise the river accesses and The Spit to determine what’s being nailed, where and how, while listening to “scout’s honor” tales told ’round the cleaning tables.

Besides, being the size of a mutant Wookie, it would take a majorly modified shoehorn to fit me into some of my favorite spots when the hordes descend on the Kenai.

Last Saturday was a prime example of The Spit and its infamous fishing lagoon returning to the days when parking spaces and elbow room were at a premium.

Halibut, salmon fishing fair to good

W

ow, what an incredibly gorgeous Memorial Day weekend even though the wind and overcast chilled things down on Monday.

For those of you who can barely recall it, fishing for the major part of three days was downright respectable for competent piscatorians and rather dismal for those doing shooters while flinging beat up bass lures so nasty looking they gave bottom feeding sculpin coronaries.

Column wraps up for season, not fishing

Now that we are beginning the slow tumble into the deep fall season where land hunts rule, don’t forget the stunning silvers and steelhead swaggering into some of the streams.

 The attitudes of these gleaming finned missiles have a tendency to morph into ravenous pack-stalker mindsets around the crack of dawn and the pre-snap of night so you might want to give them a shot instead of blowing up a duck. 

Wild weather here, but fishing still fair

Well that was a pretty wild weekend. High tides, high winds, a dash of termination dust and snagging opened at the Nick Dudiak Lagoon.

 Surfers off Bishop’s Beach were riding what looked to be walled up waves while other high cresting lips spread debris along the Homer Spit Road.

At the Anchor, coho flaunted wicked attitudes when the glimmer of dawn suffused the river’s flow with a gossamer patina of silver.  

The frenzied bite dimmed as the first light brightened.

Anglers should remember manners

One of the golden perks associated with writing this column is the cornucopia of remarkable posts that land in the R.E.I. gmail inbox. 

Sometimes the missives are so colorful that their only printable components are the quotation marks. Others have run the gamut from palpably 90-proof enhanced rants to hysterically funny yarns worthy of “Depends recommended” status.

Anglers should remember manners

O

ne of the golden perks associated with writing this column is the cornucopia of remarkable posts that land in the R.E.I. gmail inbox. 

Sometimes the missives are so colorful that their only printable components are the quotation marks. Others have run the gamut from palpably 90-proof enhanced rants to hysterically funny yarns worthy of “Depends recommended” status.

Life-saving tips: Learn to swim, wear a PFD

Last Monday I opened a voicemail from my compadre Turk. He was so riled up that residual smoke leaked out of the receiver.

He started off suggesting that since the Kachemak Bay Coho Salmon Gillnet Fishery is now open, why shouldn’t anglers at the Nick Dudiak Fishing Lagoon be able to take a shot a snagging them? He figured there wasn’t that much difference from thumping the silvers with a treble hook and hanging them up in a gillnet. He grumped that more anglers would get a shot at what was left of the run that way. 

Fish while you can; time zooming by

Wow, did we somehow pick up a serious tail wind of time since this column’s seasonal debut? Come on, Aug. 6 already?

It seems like it was just a short time ago that I first reported chinooks were starting to conduct drive-by strikes in the Nick Dudiak Lagoon back in mid-May.

Since then the column has touched on subjects from how to recognize what species you are landing to a plethora of hints on techniques to entice those gleaming beauties to hit and where to find them. 

Fishing? Know what you’re catching

have received an unusual amount of email asking how to report angler evil-doers to the Alaska Wildlife Troopers without tying up 911. 

The local number to turn in the violators is 907-235- 8239. Use it. Advise them where you are and what’s going down along with a description of the miscreant(s), their vehicle and its license plate if you can do it without being challenged to a cage fight.  

Silvers pickier than pinks (and taste better, too)

Let’s face it. Putting the hammer on silvers while they are cruising beneath our inlet waters or doing acerebral loops inside the infamous Nick Dudiak Fishing lagoon can be a spectacle of aerobatic fights and unruly runs.

Yes, I realize that pinks are also fierce and insolent battlers, but it takes more skill to keep them off your line than getting them to hit. The only thing stupider than a school of humpies is a canned one, but not by much. 

Minnesota woman takes lead in derby

It was an interesting past week for the sports fishing crowd. A distaff member of the flatfish hunting group shot into first place in the Homer Jackpot Halibut Derby when Linda Scott of Bloomington, Minn., hammered a 224.4-pound halibut while sinking bait with DeepStrike Sportsfishing off the Grand Aleutian captained by David Bayes. 

Staring at the picture of her and the ’but, I’d say Linda must be packin’ some class act biceps under her jacket’s sleeves. I got a kink in my back just eyeballing the photograph. 

It’s not just the out-of-towners who can’t read or follow sport fishing regs

Back in late June this column reported on a plethora of angling misconducts Alaska Wildlife Troopers had to deal with because of clueless dipsticks.

 

I was hoping that things would chill out with the scofflaw crowd because the piece sent a pretty blatant warning that they were being watched and enforcement officials were packin’ bottomless ink pens along with enough ticket books to fabricate an emergency shelter. 

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