Hey Sky-Guy...I caught your comment, "River fishing has more soul to it, more finess, and much more of a reward. If you fish the rivers on the right days after good autumn rains, you will get fresh fish that have just shot op the river, kinda like knowing when the good powder is going to fall and snowboarding the next day. I think I will start a new topic on this one...see main board," and I couldn't agree with you more. I couldn't find where you started a new topic about it though...so I thought I'd jump in.

Here's my feelings on the subject:

Hooked on Salmon

I love this time of year. Summer’s lush, green growth transforms into autumn’s multi-colored grand finale. A cool breeze carries red and yellow leaves that drift lazily down to the riverbank, awakening an instinct deep within me. I will add another season’s memories to my treasure chest. Autumn in Washington, for me, means river fishing for salmon!

The Trip

November’s sun-drenched, early morning fall colors dancing slowly in a barely perceptible breeze are the backdrop for my day on the Satsop River, west of Olympia. My favorite spot on the river is the middle of a lazy s-curve where a deep, powerful, backward swirling pool makes a good holding spot for salmon. While fishing alongside the river for two hours since daybreak, I have already counted several twenty pound-plus fish slowly breaking the surface of the clear, yet still darkly shaded water.

Experiencing one of those moments that everyone occasionally has, I realize everything is falling into place. The excitement rushes over me, because I know the action will soon begin.

Tightening my grip on the rod and reel, I cast to the same “sweet spot” I have aimed at all morning. Concentrating now, I watch the tip of the rod keep rhythmic track as the bait moves down river; I feel the weight bounce-bounce-bounce along the cobbled river-rock bottom. Hardly noticeable, the tip of the rod moves slightly downward and abandons its rhythm. Responding, I quickly lift the rod just a little, and the heavy surging resistance confirms my suspicion of a bite. Pulling back hard on the pole I firmly set the hook into a twenty-two-pound king salmon that immediately responds with a defiant headshake. Like a lassoed bull gone berserk, the big king begins a series of violent, powerful maneuvers ending in a final headlong one-hundred-yard run down river. By keeping the line tight while running down the riverbank, I manage to catch up to the played out salmon, leaving me short of breath and with shaking hands from the rush of adrenaline. Steadily, I maneuver the big “dime-bright” buck into slower moving shallow water, and finally, I pull him onto the bank.

Some people have numerous worldly possessions; I have all my wonderful memories of days spent on the river. Who is happier or wealthier I am not sure; however when I die—my treasure will travel with me.

[This message has been edited by SteelyBob (edited 09-24-2000).]