Anyone cruising by the Fishing Hole recently must be thinking they would come across more people if they dropped in on a private Pebble mine, executives only, appreciation party for the Alaska Wilderness League. What can I say? It has been so slow that you can find more action sitting at home watching dandelions convert your lawn into the mother of all puffballs.
The vast staff here at the headquarters of “Reeling ’Em In” has received a plethora of inquires as to when the first silvers are going to make their summer debut at The Fishing Hole.
How in the *&*%^ should I know? We thought that this year’s batch of kings would start trickling inside around the last of May and then kick things up throughout June. We were way wrong. If they had been any later they would have been next year’s run.
By the time you read this, the tides should be almost perfect for cutting some respectable critters out the growing herds of halibut cruising around Kachemak Bay and Cook Inlet.
The flats will be looking for trouble by trying to filch sushi from the holiday-week buffets being served up on circle hooks dangling just above ocean floor. It could be a lot of fun out there.
Take a cosmic bucket full of solstice time, dump in huge tides along with hordes of panicked bait fish firing out of the water while dodging creatures trying to turn them into pureed protein and wadda ya get? Some honkin’ size halibut and a fleet of boats on the water with bent sticks wielded by semi-sane and seriously pumped fishing fanatics, that’s what.
It’s been a long time since the weather has been hotter than the fishing around here. With all of the fans blasting inside the cabin, it’s like stepping onto a wind tunnel
when the mutts and I crawl back inside from a scouting expedition.
The Fishing Hole has been an interesting enigma so far. The lagoon can be deader than daylight at a vampire hostel and then all of sudden a few kings will slide in to give napping anglers near seizures when they slam their bait.
The king run at The Fishing Hole has been fluctuating from being on the verge of comatose to somewhat entertaining with patient fin hunters nailing a few hungry chinooks entering with the tides.
The kings are relatively undersized and could have used a few more years at sea to add some heft to their fillets by wolfing down small schools of corpulent herring along with a side order of roe-wrapped candlefish when they felt the need to feed.
Last week I reported that the king run at The Fishing Hole had been about as productive as trolling from a boat and trailer being towed down the Seward Highway.
Things have changed a bit after a series of high tides. Fishing is picking up during both the ebb and flow of the lagoon’s salt water.
The Memorial Day weekend was primo if you were into mucking around the beaches for assorted clam-type life forms and enjoyed broiling your snow colored carcass into a glow-in-the-dark sunburn.
The tides were so low that the hordes from the north had the option to walk across to the peninsula rather than take the long way around by vehicle. From what I hear trekking would have been faster than some of the slug-crawl traffic oozing along parts of the highway.
The first part of this season’s premiere column will be dedicated to those of you who scour wilderness beaches hunting the infamous Alaska clam.
Memorial Day weekend should be primo for those who are addicted to rooting around in the mud and sand for a creature that’s as swift and elusive as a rock with the mental capacity to match.