Labor Day weekend was a bit temperamental this year.
I received an email this week from a gentleman with whom I had shared a remarkable evening recounting fishing tales and prowess lies a few years back.
Last week I received an email inquiring as to the major challenges one faces when writing a weekly fishing column.
Throughout the currently slumbering spring and presently aging summer, this column has touched on subjects such as fish recognition, angling techniques, what’s hot and what’s not, all accompanied by suggestions as to where to find your preferred prey.
I’m starting off this week’s column with a suggestion.
I am an unabashed uber-early morning fisherman.
Last week fisherpersonages were starting to sink their hooks into more silvers at our infamous Fishing Hole.
Chinook fishing in the Nick Dudiak Fishing Lagoon is lacking a discernible heartbeat.
Before we roll on this week’s fishing reports, I want to give a special shout out and a heartfelt “thank you” to my departing editor, Lori Evans, for her support, guidance, and profuse patience throughout the years that we worked together.
Our famous fishing hole has been in a bit of a slump lately and more than a few of the kings are starting to look as though they could have used some SPF 100 sun block.
What a week, huh?
The summer season has now tip-toed through the apogee of daylight hours and commenced to leisurely dim the skies by pilfering sunshine until the autumn equinox assumes command of our march into lengthening darkness.
I am not a combat fisherman. I’m a conscientious objector when it comes doing battle for room with more than two anglers especially if they are within sight, so I move around a lot and fin hunt during the darker hours of the early morn or after the sun closes its eyes on the western horizon.
For those of you who have been crossing various appendages in hopes the Spit’s fishing hole action will pick up, there is finally some good news.
Well, that was an interesting Memorial Day weekend.
The long Memorial Day weekend is but hours away and the initial runs are starting to ease in, so it’s launch time for our annual series of fin-related reports.
Well, it’s that time again. The sunset of summer is beginning to slide further into the expanding dusk of fall. The raucous calls of gathering cranes will soon disappear as they embark on their southern journeys to warmer climes deepening the silence left behind by the erstwhile departures of the birds of song.
It is also time again to close out Reeling ’Em In for the season.
It has been another great ride and I want to thank all of you who have provided tips, tales and the multifarious inputs that are so important in making a light-hearted fishing column like this work.
Whoa! August just shot by like a peregrine falcon in a free fall attack. Suddenly we’ve tumbled into September where the cranes amp up pounding carbs and protein for their sojourn south and anglers switch gear as the fish runs slide into their fall mode.
Last Saturday, the Anchor River was down and clear enough that the dollies went nuts. Silvers also joined the party along with a few steelhead.
Sunday was pretty righteous also.
A few days ago, a buddy, JT, gave me a call from his boat while being pounded by so much rain he claimed he’d probably feel drier if he fell overboard.
He was fishing in about 90 feet of water trying to get four of his seasoned citizen in-laws into some flats when he spotted jumpers headed his way.
They were popping out of water like exploding kernels on a hot skillet.
Last week the Olympics offered a diversion when the fishing in some areas started gearing down to a semi-conscious crawl.
Things became so bad at one of our normal hot spots that the small schools of silvers cruising by acted as if they required fillets of lightly smoked Norwegian herring soaked in fermented sturgeon oil before they would even consider a courtesy nibble. Arrogant @%^*&^s. I hate it when they cop an attitude.