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.
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.
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.
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.
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.