So I head down to the park above Snohomish at about 8:00, most likely about 2 weeks early (still, better than being at work or mowing the lawn) and two guys in a boat come by and ask the guy above me if he's had any luck. Nada, and the guy in the boat lifts up two fish just high enough to see their heads. Pretty damn small if you ask me, unless they're big trout. He takes his cocky grin and his two humpies back to the launch, apparently oblivious to his situation.

Then, another guy comes down at about noon and prepares to fish precisely between me and the other guy, when there's 1/2 mile of empty shoreline above him and below me. Apparently he's thinking this must be where all the fish are, since there's two guys fishing it already.

The whole time he's talking like he really knows what's going on. "This time last year, I had...",etc., etc. He says sorry he's late (funny guy), but mentions it doesn't matter when you fish as long as you end up with a barbecue in the evening. I mention that humpies are all that's showing much, and that he would have to let them go, in case he didn't know. He says he's not interested in killing, just hooking. Hmmmmm, so much for the barbecue. He also mentions that, well, he DOES happen to know that today is the last day for cohos. Huh? I tell him it's actually the second day, as for all harvestable salmon (didn't get into the Wallace kings thing for his benefit) in the Snohomish system. "Really?", he says? "Oh, yeah, I was thinking about a couple of places on the Columbia that are closing." Huh, again?

He then proceeds to place his first cast right over my line. He reels in fast, unhooks me and plops his large shiny metal object back out there and proceeds with his 6' horizontal yank, retrieve, yank, retrieve, etc.

I pack it up and get ready to head to some uncrowded shoreline while he's dealing with a big honkin' 20lb. test birdsnest on his spinning reel. I mention that, in case he doesn't know, that treble hook at the bottom of that chrome plated buzz bomb is not legal tackle.

"You know," he says, "you're right. You're absolutely right.", and he reels up and apparently begins to dig for something in his tackle box that doesn't look like such a blatant disregard for the law.

Criminy. Not a surprise, really, any more than having people cut me off in traffic, hog the fast lane at 54mph, etc. Stills galls the crap outta me, though. Worst thing was this is what he's teaching his kid, who frankly looked kind of embarassed to be with his clueless dad.