Day 4....

High tide was getting to be a bit later each day, so on this morning we decided to sleep in an extra couple hours. The short crew consisted of new guest CCW, f4b, LMWS, and me. We met up at the EMB but it was hard to tell if the parking lot was out on the main drag where trucks and trailers were lined up in both directions! As CCW is putting his gear in the boat, he realizes he left his Grunden's bib pants at home in Kalama. Of course that meant it would turn out to be the stormiest, nastiest day of the entire trip! And how!

We raced across the estuary thru a new upper crossing I learned from guide Devon of the GreatWhiteHooker. Before high water, I got CCW into the first king of the day... a reasonably bright tule.



This one was hooked on a plug-cut hangback herring... in typical outside-in fashion with the trailing hook buried solidly under and all the way around the maxillary plate.




Glad it was in decent shape because boat rules state that....

ALL hatchery fish MUST die!



Turns out CCW's would be the HOT rod that morning. And since he was free-cutting his own plug-cuts and regularly getting bit, I was more than happy to relinquish the task to the bait master (see, I went easy on you, Chris!) Not only is he a classy standup dude, but he is an extremely gracious guest as well. When we finally stuck the next king, he simply walked away from the rod and said, "Here Emi.... YOU take it!"

Not missing a beat, LMWS handily stepped up to the task, and she and I tag-teamed it against another purple-platinum URB to put the team's second king in the box. Thanks, Chris! You da man!









Don't forget the meat-hook shot, Dad!




Once the tide started going out, it was especially challenging to troll downhill into a stiff quartering south wind.

You know it wouldn't have been that bad... except for all the doughballs that absolutely refused to crab into the wind as they trolled. Strange how some people are completely oblivious that they are ferrying 50, 100, 150 ft cross-current in a gust. Sometimes you have no choice but to abruptly change course with them, even when it means taking you off course... WAY off your intended depth line!

Oh and the guy who cut right across all my lines as he suddenly tried to get back on the right troll path.

One guy immediately to my left at 8:00 ferried over hard three gusts in a row, causing me to lose 18 ft of depth as I took evasive action from getting rammed. I asked if he would try crabbing into the wind. "We are," he replies.

Well not really...

"Didn't you notice how we are now only trolling half as deep as we were 40 yds back? You're pushing us out of the strike zone."

"Are you telling me how to drive?" he asks.

"No just asking you to crab into that wind so we can all maintain proper depth and not drag our gear across the bottom."

"We ARE pointed into the wind!" he insists.

JFC! Whatever, dude! OK after getting ferried hard right with the next gust, I lost it. "Pick 'em up, boys, let's do it right." We hauled up our gear and I promptly cut left immediately in front of Mr Can't-Crab-Worth-a Fk's nose to get us back on the RIGHT troll path. "Drown 'em, boys," I barked. Seconds later CCW's rod goes off as another chrome king attacked his hangback herring. Talk about making a statement with a piercing point! Hope that guy learned something.

CCW lands the third king of a different flavor.... his free-cut baits were attracting tules, URB's and YB Rogue brights with universal appeal.



In a few hours the seas got so bad that most folks simply turned tail for the barn. WHEW! Finally able to fish in relative peace! Only problem was the bite flat died! LMWS was ready to dig out at any moment, so the Achewter crew motored over the bridge to the roadside rest stop just upriver, and we dropped off LMWS to scramble up the rip-rap for the kid-exchange. We fished another hour or so suspended in the deep hole immediately above the bridge without so much as a whiff.

Plan B... head back across to the EMB and trailer over to Hammond for the late incoming, a strategy that produce handsomely for Team Canyon the previous afternoon. I fashion some makeshift rainpants for CCW (actually, more like a tube-skirt) out of a plastic fish bag for the WET sloppy ride back to Astoria.

We break for lunch and pickup another crew member.... FleaFlkr02... to continue fishing a full complement of four rods. We launch out of Hammond to join Team Canyon in a HOWLING south wind. But by staying tight to shore, we were able to crab into it and maintain a hover position without swiftly getting blown across the bay. We stagger our divers from 14 to 35 ft to root out the preferred travel depth.

The mystery was quickly solved as my diver at 22' was violently tripped. CYCLOPS strikes again! Before we can clear the other three divers, however, a furbag suddenly snatches my mid-high 20's URB. It's another aggressive sea lion, dammit, and it makes short work of my platinum king. At least I got the spinner back!

We collect our composure and re-deploy. Wasn't long before FF02's diver tripped and line was leaving the rod tip straight DOWN. YEE HAW.... another king in less than an hour's fishing! Green dot Fatal Flash hangback hoochie spinner seals the deal and FF02 makes short work of the brand new ocean-fresh tule....





ALL hatchery fish MUST die!



A good day was about to turn into an great day when my rod folded for the second time. CYCLOPS delivered the goods yet again.... another YB Rogue bright.... and luckily this time there were no furbags in the immediate vicinity to execute the interception.






What a fantastic finish to close out another glory day of friends, family, and fishin'.