I would like to hear a few funny short fishing stories! - I will start with a true one.- Back in my fulltime guiding days I would have to occassionlly fish in extreme conditions if fish were biting. One freezing January day I met a pair of new clients by Tillamook's Wilson R. The Steelhead were concentrated in the middle high banked area of the river. There are a couple of very steep long wooden driftboat launches there. The "Siskyville" launch had about a 1/4" buildup of ice on the launch rails. We carefully positioned my driftboat on the upper flat part. I told the client to hold it there while I slacked about 5' to 7' of winch rope. Then I nudged it over the edge (we both thought the other had hold of it). Well that boat did 0 to 60 mph in that few feet of slack, snapped the ropeknot like it was twine, & did 60 to 90? down the ramp with the rail side uprights holding it on the ramp. When that rocket hit the water the splash reminded me of the old loggin' flumes! And it, honest to goodness, did a triple skip across the river like a hard thrown skipper rock!... I just starred, dropmouth stunned, at my boat for a moment. Then I turned to the new clients & said "so, how do you like me so far? WAIT 'TILL YA SEE ME ROW", had to start yelling as they were already running back to their truck (jk). Actually, the boat drifted downriver a few holes. Fortunately, another boater arrived. He declined our offer to help him launch. They found & secured my boat though. We did get into some fish that day, but I got no tip. - Steve Hanson (RT)

[ 10-29-2001: Message edited by: RT unleeshed ]

I have a short one. A friend of mine landed a big king on light line. 25lb fish, 10 main, on a 6'6" trout rod! After finally landing the fish he was shaking so bad his brother had to light his smoke for him. He still insists on using that little pole. But he only really fishes for silvers. Had to be there for best effect.

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Just because I look big, dumb, and ugly, doesn't mean I am. It means I can stomp you for calling me it!

I had a retired football player and his wife from Texas out chinook fishing. I anchored up and passed out he cured salmon eggs for bait. He put his eggs on his hook and began to fish. I looked down to rig up and when I looked up she was eating hers! I felt bad, she didn't see her husband put his on his hook and thought I was passing out a treat. That borax in the cure must have been awful!

While fishing the Yellowstone river near Buffalo Ford many years ago, I witnessed a funny fishing situation. An Eddie Bauer type dude waded next to me, lit up a big cigar and began fishing. He had all new and spendy equipment, in fact the cork on his fly rod still had the plastic wrapper on it. He was loud and full of bravado. A hatch came on and the cutthroat were really on the bite. Most of us had nearly nonstop action, except for the dude. After about an hour of fishless effort and many fly changes the dude starts cussing and yelling about how stupid the cutthroats are. He breaks off his fly tosses it in the river and begins to turn to shore only to look back and see his fly be gulped down by a big cutthroat. He goes ballistic and breaks his rod over his knee and heaves it into the middle of the Yellowstone. I tried to snag it but never did.

Once while fishing a lake here on Orcas I noticed a woodpecker knocking away at a snag right at the waterline. I could see little pieces of wood fluttering down into the water, about a foot off of the steep rock bank. A fish rose right where that stuff was landing, and then rose again. I hurredly tied on a black ant and crept the canoe as close as I dared, then sat that fly right where the rises had been. No hesitation there--an immediate take and a fine series of jumps before I boated and released a spunky 16" cutt. Now I'm always looking and listening for woodpeckers...

Last October I was summer Steelhead fishing with my very competitive Brother-in-law. It was just starting to get light as we were walking down to the drift. As we got close to the water, he starts picking up the pace so he would get first cast in the hole. I yelled to him that I'd just simply cast over him. We were both using a bobber/jig outfit. He cast to the top of the drift and I cast about 10 feet further down. Almost immediately my bobber went down. Fish on. The look on his face was priceless. I almost felt sorry for him. Two seconds later his bobber went down. We had a double-header. His fish started down river and mine went up. As we crossed each other I went to high five him but he wouldn't let go of the pole. It was his first Steelhead and he didn't want to take any chances. I landed and released my fish and a few minutes later he belly slid his up on shore, threw down his pole and pounced on it like a cat. He pinned the hatchery hen to the ground and wouldn't let it move. If I only had a video camera.
Mark

Hey guys, Yahoo here. I got a good one that just happens to be about my wife. We live out on the beach at Point No Point and we have a line of bouys out about 75 yards off the beach. The silvers were running real thick, so we were rowing out in seperate small dingies and tying up to different bouys right next to each other. Well to say the least the fishing was fantastic. Now im sitting in my boat watching my wife reel a nice silver in and having a hell of a time getting it in the boat, well she finally gets it in the boat, mind you the boat is a dingy with hardly any room, so to deal with the fish she sets her pole down with her buzz bomb just hanging in the water when low and behold a silver comes up and grabs her buzz bomb and pole and just takes off. It was quite a site to see. Well now my wife is just a little pissed, but then we notice the butt of her pole is floating, it looked like something off of jaws just cruising around with only about 4 inches of the pole sticking up. So now the wife is on a mission, she unhooks from the bouy and starts rowing after her pole, what a site, I will tell you one thing my wife is a trooper. Well, she finally gets the pole in her hands and guess what, theirs a 7lb. silver still hanging on to that buzz bomb, you go girl!!!!!

[This message has been edited by Yahoo (edited 03-09-2000).]

Sorry this is a Bass story but hope you get at least a giggle! I was fishing Toledo bend in Texas with a buddy of mine. I was right at the end of a cast and had 11" of line out (yes inches not feet) and looked up to spot a new target to cast at. All of a sudden WHAM, just as as was lifting my lure a three pounder hit it. With lightning reflexes I set the hook, and HARD! I didnt even have time to think about it.So this poor fish flys straight up in the air to my right at about a 45 degree. The momentum carries the fish all the way around me and the fish slaps my buddy right in the back of neck with smack loud enuff to hear for a good 100' feet away. It was the funniest thing I ever saw(and heard) in my life time of fishing.

Last weekend my fishing partner, Gary and I, went fishing and decided to leave the drift boat at home and bank it. We thought a little exploration would do us good for some later date.

We did do quite well, hooking 7, landing 2, almost landing, 2 and well the others got the best of us.

The funny part of the story starts here, I had just missed a fish, when my partner casts and solidly hooked one. He plays it and I get in the water on a precarious clay bank and tail his fish. Of course, we were expecting to be normally catching only natives in this river in March so I was about to unhook it and let it go, when I noticed that the fish had no adipose! My partner yells out, "We Eat Tonight" and we put her on the bank. My buddy pulls this homemade device out of his vest and puts it through the gills of the fish. It had a nice wood handle on it for carrying the fish through the woods.

We left this hole after losing another fish and proceeded downriver to a long stretch of "nice water" on a long bar. Gary leaves the steelie in about an inch of water and heads downstream, while I decide to cross the river and fish the other side of the hole upriver. I can barely see my buddie doing some peculiar antics downstream. After about a half hour, I see him coming back up to meet me, and I meet him half-way. He tells me that he just lost two fish at the same time, and I said "What"?

He had hooked a large nate (High Teens) and chased it and finally got it to his knees near a big boulder and the line hit the rock and snapped. He had the fish in his grasp, so I told him, oh well, we are C/R anyway. Then he told me how he lost the other fish, after losing that fish he came back to tell me to join him downstream and to retrieve his Hatchery Steelie. He was about 25 feet from where he had put his steelhead and saw the darndest thing. Some silly otter was dragging his fish into the depths and to make it even funnier was that he had the "wood handle" of Gary's fish carrier in his mouth.
First words out of my mouth were....."OTTER EATS TONIGHT"!

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Steve Ng....The FishNg1
99 F-350 Powerstroke 4x4 , 18ft Alumaweld Formula Vee Sled, 115 Yamaha.

This isn't a fishing story, but somewhat related. A friend of mine rents his cabin on South Whidbey's Deer Lagoon during the summer. After meeting the out-of-towners to leave them a key, he suggests they might try some sight-seeing, relating several vistas and perhaps try some clamming at Double Bluff There were shovels and buckets in the shed. After several days stay he returned for his fee and chatted with his guests. They replied they had a most pleasant stay. The Island and scenery was very beautiful. They had also took his suggestion and dug some clams. One replied, "On our way back from clamming we strolled on the mud/sand flats and added to our bounty! The clams were delicious, but those sand shimp didn't have much meat on them."

Was fishing with my brother on a contest day. (Which can be very competitive). He was fishing his way down a small stream looking for hatchery fish and lost his rigging on the bottom. I came along behind him and snagged his gear off the bottom. I then proceeded to tie it on everytime I was fishing next to him....hehe
Well you can probably guess what happened next. I caught a fish laying right at his feet with his gear. Nearly got him wet when it rolled after getting hooked. Made for a great story at the Club that night.

I know I got mine coming....justly deserved

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Marty
www.steelheader.net
marty@steelheader.net

Before I could afford a real jetsled with a real jetpump back in the 70's, I purchased the "poorman's" version. It was an extremely light 15' Koffler experimental flatbottom sled (a forerunner of the Koffler Lite Kenai R. sled). On the raised transom I mounted a 20 hp Merc.with a Riffle Runner. These were a large strong tunnel housing attached to the cavitation plate so the sled could run 6" shallower. I had installed a different prop pitch so that it's "out of the hole jump" was strong. I had run it a couple times just fine with a friend in the front.- I parked it at his cabin on the Clackamas R. & I invited my brother & another friend to Steelhead fish the next morning. Before starting I told them to wait while I run a couple laps around the large hole to warm up the motor; while secretly planning to impress them how quick it got on plane with only one aboard. I definitely impressed them! I slowly built up my circling speed until I had a pretty good sized wake going. As I approached it I slowed then gunned it right as I hit the wave. I knew this would bounce the front end up a little, but I'm at a loss to describe the feeling that would follow! Right as the front end started up I hit full throttle. At the same time the Riffle Runner's front lip scooped water, tilting the prop outward & upward, which with no weight in the front of the boat caused it to do a near vertical "wheelstand" right out in the middle of the Slab Hole!! At it's zenith I thought it was going to do a running backflip! Because I had left my my tackle box open I sat there as stunned Steve with a couple spinners hanging on the brim of my cap. Wow! I putted over to the cracked up pair & just said "ready?". NO... When I added a real jetsled to my driftboat a few years later for fulltime guiding, I remember thinking to myself that it would have made a great Candid Camera stunt if I had kept that boat, perfected the one man wheelstand trick, & meet new clients at the boatramp to watch my "warmup act"; then come back to them & say something like "dang, it's a little jumpy this morning but I think we'll be alright". - Steve Hanson

Great stuff R.T.~~ Speaking of wakes, I'm a very large guy so picture this. I was wading out into a drift in view of my buddy on a SW Wash. stream. As i was wading out I turned to say something and stepped into a deep dropoff. My friend said it sent a big wake all the way across the river. Not funny to me then but I can laugh about it now. Anybody got a good pancake recipe? HG

First, just a note. About 12 years ago, on my first trip down to the Kalama, a buddy who took me caught a steelhead and when we got home, he gave it to me. When I was cleaning it, I saw that its stomach was really distended. I cut it open and it had in it one of those little grey birds that you see dunking themselves into the water on the river edges. I've never really tried to match that hatch and I don't see those birds for sale in any of the bait shops I've been to.

Last year a buddy and I went up to Rivers Inlet Resort for kings in mid-August. After a couple fish, we thought we were getting the hang of things. We were motor mooching with 4 rods out and I'm on the motor at the stern when I get an absolute hammer strike on the rod off the stern, just on the other side of the motor from my seat. I jumped to reach it and just as I pulled it out of the rod holder, my feet go out from under me towards the bow and I end up on my knees and elbows on the bottom of the skiff. I've dropped the rod and in what looks like slow motion, it starts to head out of the boat, over the transom, the single action just screaming its ratchett off. As luck would have it, it caught up for just a second by the reel on the transome and I was just able to grab the rod butt and struggle up to my knees.

By this time my buddy had one rod in, but the fish completely ran around the other two and as I got a little line back, the other lines were just knots around my line. The fish must have taken 50 yards of line and as my friend tried frantically to surgically remove the knots without cutting my line, my line went slack. What a pair of Keystone Cops! I was shaking and just sick. I thought for a moment to just cut my line and be done with the whole mess, but I had too much line out and decided to try and get it back on the reel.

I worked for a full 5 minutes unraveling the knots that were jammed in my tip-top. When I finally got free, I began to reel in the slack. I reeled and reeled, when I felt tension, I assumed that I was just caught on the bottom. I was just pissed !! and I gave the long rod a huge jerk -- and then the rod gave a huge jerk back. The fish was still there and just took off on another scalding run.

We chased it around and finally boated it. A 47 lb. King. I can't believe the fish sat still for all of that with a hook in its jaw and a 5 oz. lead hang from it. It has reinforced a theory that I have that some fish are just meant to be caught, no matter what, and others are destined not to be caught, no matter what.

This happened to a friend of mine a few years back, he had guests on his boat doubled up on what he was sure were 2 decent sized halibut and after a short fight the fish started going seperate directions, well, fearing being spooled and being a long range capt. out of San Diego where they do this alot he decided to tie a buoy to 1 rod and finish fighting the other fish, after landing a nice sized butt he retrieved the buoyed rod and the guest proceeded in fighting and landing a 62 lb. king, true story.

It was a warm August evening and I was trolling off the caves in Sekiu. My two sons were along for the trip this time,as I wanted them to experience the thrill of fighting a large chinook. At the time ,they were 11 and 7. The evening bite was a non event. As we watched the sun starting to set on the horizon,the starboard side rod went crazy. I scrambled to the rod holder,removed the rod and handed it to my oldest son Jason. The big king started to head for Canada.Boats were gathering around,but being polite enough to stay clear.After about 10 min fighting the fish my son said he was getting tired and wanted me to take up the battle.Not wanting to lose this magnificent king, I agreed. (figured this a great time to impress) . As I fought this fish, I was giving my son directions on steering the boat. I could finally feel as though I was gaining the upper hand on this very large king.It would only be a matter of minutes now and the fish would be on the deck of the boat. With pole in one hand ,I reached for the landing net.I instructed my son to take it out of gear. I pulled back with the rod and couldn't seem to get the fish close enough to net. We chased again. Again I hollered to take it out of gear and again I couldn't get the fish close enough to net. Was the tide that strong, I thought.Finally on the third attemp
t to net the large king,that I estimated to be well over 40lbs,it came unbuttoned.
As a glorious sunset was in its midst, I watched as this magnificent salmon slowly swam away. Dejected, I went back to take over the motor from Jason and immediately sat down on the styrafoam cooler. It was filled with 10 dozen herring that I had brined and dyed to perfection. Along with 3 gallons of salt water, I and the herring sat on the deck of the boat. What a glorious sunset.
When I finally made it to my proper seat by the motor,it became clear why I couldn't net the largest king I had ever hooked in the salt. Everytime I told my son to kick the motor out of gear,he was putting it in reverse. In all my excitement I didn't even notice.
Oh well, I guess I really impressed them. To this day we still laugh about that evening. And that was 15 years ago. How I miss Sekiu!

Hey T Dodge, good story but I gotta ask; that's such a profound statemant that fish are either destined to be caught or not, is there a third option? (jk) Big Butt

I hope crappy stories are OK on here. - I was fisin' out of Depot Bay for silvers one summer in my former large open V-sled. Along with several other sport boats we had followed the Charter boats out to the hot spot, so there were a lot of people around. As nature would have it 'ol number 2 pulled into the station (or should I say the staging area). I had one of those aluminum framed plastic toilet seat camping potty chairs & a 2 gallon vinyl bucket for the cause. The problem was that we were in a hot bite, so I held off as long as possible. That turned out to be a mistake because- how can I put this delicately- it sort of packs things in the staging area & makes things harder to work out (was that OK?). We finally had to reel em up and I ran out a ways to where I'd feel comfortable. The adventure began when my buddy Chris let out his plugcut & began a wide circle back toward the bite. I chirped about it but he just said to hurry up. I was trying. Wouldn't ya know it..2 charter boats had made wide turns & were headed our way. It's hard to talk my buddy away from a fishbite so he just kept trolling straight- laughing all the way. I tried harder; while leaning forward to coverup the best I could. The "golden Kodak moment" came right between the 2 charters. We hit a wake such that the rocking bent the dang weak potty legs & I crumbled down on top of it all. Yes, most of about 30 peole saw this. Chris was cracking up so hard he couldn't talk, as were many of the charter fishers. I'll leave the rest of the story to your imagination. - Steve

Me and a buddy were fishing a local river early in the winter season a couple of years ago and had got down to the hole a little before light. We were fishing floats and jigs and standing around waiting for it to get light I had my jig hanging in the water with the float about a foot off the surface and the rod tucked under my arm. All of the sudden the rod about gets jerked out from under my arm so I set the hook. Turns out an 8 pound chum couldn't stand that jig hanging down there and came up and smacked it.

THIS STORY WAS NOT FUNNY AT THE TIME BUT WHEN I THINK BACK ITS KIND OF FUNNY. I WAS ON THE COWLITZ WITH 2 GOOD FRIENDS WE FISH HARD ALL DAY IN HIGH WATER AT BLUE CREEK(ABOUT WHERE THE POINT USED TO BE)ONE OF MY FRIENDS WALKED BACK TO THE PARKING LOT TO GET THE TRUCK,SO WE STARTED TO FLOAT DOWN TO MISSION BAR TO TAKE OUT.ERIK BACKED THE TRUCK DOWN THE RAMP JIM AND I GOT OUT OF THE BOAT AND STARTED LOADING ALL THR GEAR INTO THE BACK OF THE TRUCK.JIM WAS STRADDLINGTHE TRAILER WHEN i TOLD HIM I THOUGHT IT WASNT A GOOD IDEA TO DO THAT ,ALL OF A SUDDEN I HEARD A LOUD CLUNK AS I WAS LOADING THE LAST ROD IN THE BACK OF THE TRUCK,THE NEXT THING I KNEW THE TRUCK HAD KNOCKED ME DOWN AND WAS HEADED DOWN THE RAMP AND INTO THE WATER WITH THE BOAT ATTACHED,ALL I COULD DO WAS WATCH AS IT FLOATED DOWN THE RIVER IT FINALLY STOP ON SOME BIG BOULDERS UNDER THE WATER AND ALL YOU COULD SEE WAS THE MARKER LIGHTS ON TOP OF THE CAB!!WHEN IT STOPPED ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT WAS TO GET HELP SO I RAN ALL THE WAY TO MARYS CORNER TO CALL FOR HELP!!!! BUT I COULDNT GET AHOLD OF ANYONE WHO COULD HELP SO I CALLED ERIKS WIFE TO COME PICK ME UP AND TAKE ME BACK TO THE RIVER. ERIK HAD A FRIEND AT THE TOLEDO AIRPORT SO WE STOPPED BY TO SEE IF HE COULD HELP, HIS NAME WAS MATT.MATT SAID HE COULD HELP BUT IT WILL TAKE TILL MORNING TO GET EVERYTHING TOGETHER SO WE CAN GET THE TRUCK OUT OF THE RIVER.WE WENT BACK TO THE TRUCK AND I STRIPPED DOWN TO MY UNDER WARE AND SWAMOUT TO THE BOAT AND CUT IT LOOSE FROM THE TRAILER THEN WE PUT IT IN THE BACK OF MATTS TRUCK AND TOOK IT TO THE AIRPORT. IN THE MORNING WHEN WE MADE IT BACK TO MISSION BAR THERE WAS A CROWD LOOKING AT MY TRUCK AND RIGHT BE HIND IT WAS A BUCK JUMPING.EVERYBODY CHEERED WHEN WE GOT IT OUT!!!!!!

Responding to Hugh Gebutt in re: the theory that some fish are destined to be caught, no matter what, and some are destined not to be caught, no matter what. I don't know of a third option, but after losing so many fish where I thought I did everything right, and catching so many while suffering an acute bout of cranio-rectal insertion, that's about the best I've come up with.

Along those lines, here's another one. On a trip up to Soldotna along with my brother-in-law, we went halibut fishing out of Deep Creek. My brother-in-law hooked into one that the skipper got excited about, which I took as a positive sign. It was like he was trying to pull the plug out of the ocean floor. Then, all of a sudden, his line snaps - somewhere in mid-line. Heavy sigh.

While the skipper is rerigging my brother-in-law, I reel up to check my bait, and as the rotation was explained to us, I went to the back of the line, where my brother-in-law had been and I let back down in the spot he had just vacated.

I hadn't been on the bottom more than a minute, when I hook into something huge. We land this one. It's 200 pounds. After we shoot it, harpoon it, gaff it, lasso, it and pull it in over the rail, we notice that it has another leader and cannon ball weight hanging out of its mouth, besides mine. It was the skipper's rig that my brother-in-law had been using.

So, I guess my philosophical thunderbolt is not so much a statement of the ultimate fate of fish, but the fate of a fish once you hook it. Some are destined to be caught, no matter what, and others are destined to get away, no matter what.

This did not happen to me, but I saw it. During a combat fishery at Hoodsport one year I saw a floattuber and a banker both hook the same fish. Neither knew the other had the same fish. When the banker finally got the fish in he saw what happened. He motor hooked it, the floater had lipped it. That poor fish didn't know whether it was coming or going. Both guys thought they had hooked Mody Dick. That was funny.

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Just because I look big, dumb, and ugly, doesn't mean I am. It means I can stomp you for calling me it!

Combat fishing has its moments. One I distinctly remember occured at this short race on a small creek as it spilled into an estuary--everyone fishes the mouth, and snagging is common, as so many salmon stack up that it's hard to pull your line outta the water without puncturing piscatorial anus. Well, some folks of the linguistic or cognitive minority ignored the guys walking fish down, and suffered tangles constantly because of it. This old man above me was getting a kick out of it--giggling to himself like a drunk schoolgirl. And he tosses his line out there--a huge hook and a tuft of yarn on 50# fireline or spiderwire or some such stuff...he lets out a "YeeHaw!" as a tail-biting king does a 180 and heads downstream. I yanked my line out just in time. the old man didn't move. He just kept his pole over the water and let that fish tear downstream, letting out line, a huge grin on his face. Then he put his thumb down. A few seconds later a collective "Ohhhhhh" passed through the crowd as their gear joined their neighbors' on this guy's line...and then, the old man yanked twice, sharply, dropping a dozen corkies and hooks into the creek. Can't shake his smile--like the schoolyard bully shaking down his peers.

Another common sight at combat zones is the poor fool who's waded out into the stream and then been circled, hog tied, and upended by a hooked fish.

Perhaps the best stories are with, or about a great fishing partner. Mine is my wife. Fishing big chinook in the Queen Charlottes. Hooked a big one. And it began to run. Two and one-half hours later, the fish had been brought to the boat three times - just out of reach - and for good reason - it was foul hooked in the tail. Try that on, in twelve-foot seas and twenty-knot winds, drifting toward Tokyo in a sixteen-foot skiff. Later, the map tells us we were towed two and a quarter nautical miles! We were tired. My new captain (she had never manned an outboard before) was doing great - steering into the swell, reversing and going forward to catch up with this great fish. Finally, (on 12 lb Maxima I might add) the big fish comes along side. I raise the rod as high as I might, and my beautiful other shovels the big stainless steel net deep into the green sea. She scoops and raises the net high! No fish. But I spy my two black hooks dangling in the net! Exhausted (remember 2 1/2 hours!) I drop my $ 300 Loomis rod and $ 120 direct-drive reel, pick up the net, go to the side of the boat, and eye the largest living chinook I have ever seen - 42.5 lb - beside her self, serene, or just exhausted floating like a lost piece of driftwood in this big sea. She (the chinook - but this could also describe my beloved little one) just simply lays there. I scoop her (the fish) out of the white-topped waves - and we, all three, go home spent of even spoken word. I will never forget the great fish, the battle, and lingering spasm on the floor of our little kicker boat. Yes I have had thoughts of her swimming free (or being released) but now just remember the bright, silvery reflection she made while we headed home into the sunset. Both my partner and I laugh about this one on occasion, especially after a great martini sipped in reverence to good fishing, wonderful partners, and the lasting memory of this true great sport.

Here's a SHORT story. I was shortlining from a rock. Steelhead hit in close. Set hook so hard I fell off rock and landed flat on my back. Looked up and saw steelhead was flopping on the beach, also. Total time from bite to beach, about two seconds.

Night fishing and my buddy's rod gets pulled into the river. No back up rod so he watches me fish. 30 minutes later we notice a fish half dead floating on top. We get closer and it has a plug in its' mouth. Buddy grabs it, hand lines in his rod and reel. Fish was clipped so we kept it.

A few years ago I was fishing Blue Creek on the Cowlitz where the stump used to be, it was just turning daylight on about a 30 degree day, the guy standing next to me sets the hook on a fish and his feet went right out from under him while he's about thigh deep, he fell straight back and went totally underwater except for the hand holding the rod, he gets to his feet and lands the fish, he then stripped down to his shorts and hiked out.

I don't approve of this but it was funny in a sadistic sort of way. I used to fish with this guy that on freezing days around Feb. would kill spawned out hatchery steelhead, pour extra water on them, and stick them on frozen windshields in river area parking lots or even back in town. Then would watch flabbergasted guys try to scrape steelhead popcycles off their windshields. ..shtick

Last July I was on my annual fishing trip. I fished from Sat till Wed. I got two nice fish over the weekend. On Monday morning I passed this local fisherman (he wears hunter orange so he's kind of spooky) walking out of my favorite hole and he said there were some fish. So I set my stuff down on top of the rock, forgetting to put my bait rag on. First cast - boom this steelhead starts jumping and goes down river. Usually I fish this spot from underneath where I have better control. I was going to grab my rag because I use it to grab the tail wrist. My line was stuck over a boulder, so I ran down the rocks and the fish was still on. I tried to land it by grabbing my line ( a big no no) and pulling him on the rocks and snap, the first steelhead I lost. I re-rigged and first cast - fish on - snap. I should've trimmed some line off because it was worn from hanging on the rocks.

Two days later I go fish whitewater at this riffle pool where my mentor said he had a bite and he showed me how to fish it by casting upstream, reeling in fast, so it wouldn't get hung up, and letting it drop over the break, count to three, and reel it in. First cast with my sandshrimp and I feel a tug, pulled back, I see this bent dorsal fin come out of the water. My hook came off because I had tied a bad knot with a twist. So I sharpened a hook, retied a nice knot, and put some yarn and another sandshrimp. This time I hooked him,he tried to go downstream and I held him in the small pool. I landed him on some rocks and snap, he slithers back in the water. I jump in and grab him with my rag, throw him in between the rocks and pounce on him. No stick around so I grabbed a rock and smash I missed his head, hit a rock, and broke my hand by my knuckle on my pinky. I finally bonked him. My knuckle is swelling so I put it in the ice cold water and downed a little bottle of Yukon Jack to relieve the pain.

All of these stories are really great! lot's of laughs. I was fishing with my three sons on the Vedder river in Canada this last October for the famous "White Chinook". We were there for three day's and had a great time, caught a lot of fish too. One area we fished was quite narrow from bank to bank and people were getting lines tangled from one side to the other and this guy next to us got tangled with one on the other side so he let's the other guy reel in to untangle the mess. Ok here's the fun part, the guy on the other side, along with a couple of his buddy's blocking the view hooks the guy on our side into a dead chum and pushes into the water. Well this poor guy thinks he has caught a fish and play's it for all he's worth. The dead chum is rolling around in the current and he's yellin' "Fish On-Fish On" and I got to admit it looks like he's fighting a live one but when he finally get's in in, it's this skanky, stiff as a board chum which no one even wants to touch! What a hoot! everyone had a real good laugh, especially the guy's who did it to him. They had been smokin' pot all morning and fell over they were laughing so hard. The guy then turns to me and says "Hey, I think they did that on purpose", which made it more fun!

One from the history books. Summer of '84, Lake Washington. Sockeye season. 604,000 record return count. 6-fish limit. Fish everywhere. I had been doing quite well for a guy in a 12' lake boat and little motor. There was every kind of watercraft out there vying for these fish. What a zoo. A friend of mine from a local dart pub saw the news clip and wanted to go with me, and we made arrangements. After launching at dawn, we made our way to the area where I had good success. My partner turned out to be quite a coffee drinker and we all know what that does to you, but I had it covered, a simple tin can will do. Within an hour I had already landed two fish - 0 for John. He had'nt had a single bite and we were rigged identically. After two more cups of coffee he announces he would like to return to the launch to take a leak. I refused. "Are we not men? We're too slow and too far out. Use the tin can." Apparently, he had an aversion to such activity. All he had to do was kneel down at the bow and take care of business. After holding his water for sometime, he could not take the pressure any longer, and moved to the bow, tin cup in hand. Meanwhile, I start spotting fish on the finder, we are near the edge of a school. My rod goes down. I set my hook, trying to maintain control of the boat, and stay out of everyone's way. John's rod goes down. He's at mid-steam so to speak. I yell at him to grab his rod. He makes an attempt with one hand, leaning backwards. About this time , we're struck by a wake of another boat causing John to lose his balance falling backwards, spilling the contents of the can on himself and his possessions, still sraying like a fire hose from all the coffee he drank. By the time he got to his rod, the fish was gone, and he was very upset because I was laughing at him so hard, he lost his first opportunity and the fact that I got another fish. Eventually, he did get a couple of fish. The moral of this story is that it's better to get pissed off than pissed on, but I guess it just wasn't his day.

Just another story to throw in...me and my buddy were fishing the lower Elwah one day, within in sight of saltwater (you know, below the big rock). We were drifting for summer run steelhead, about late June. We drifed our gear for some time and each became aware of some rather stout line that we continued to hook and real in at the end of the drift. Neither of us could catch hold of the line to pull it out of the hole, until my buddie shouted that he had it and promptly wound it arount his hand. When the line got tight he gave a significant tug to dislodge the gear on the bottom, the tug was met immediately by a stronger YANK!, whereby my friend was pulled head first into the river. Unknown to us both, a 70lb Elwah king was on the end of the line (which had obviously broken a snagger off earlier), and proceeded to head back out to sea. To make a long story short, my buddy almost drowned, and had his knuckles cut to the bone by the line wrapped around his hand. Sutures were required to close up the lacerations. Never did see the fish.........

I'll try to keep it short.

1. Swimming across Icicle Creek to untangle a fish from the pilings at the bottom of the drift hole. Fish landed. By the way, that is one aptly named river. Brrr.

2. Flyfishing in Eastern Washington with a buddy, he hits a fish, I hit a fish. On dries. Same fish. Fish definitely landed.

3. Steelhead last spring. Land a hot twelve pound hen, flopping so bad I cut off the leader and off she goes. Sit down for a smoke. Get up, re-rig, flip out line, fish on. Same fish, still has other hook in mouth. My buddy took half a roll of film of that one.

4. Fell out of boat fishing at Lake Conconully. Twice in two years.

5. Fishing Tokul Cr. when very young. Set hook, fall on ass in river. Just like story above, the fish was on the bank before I was.

6. Hooked a seal at Whatcom Creek during college. Didn't land that one.

7. Hunting funny: Southeast Washington: City slicker in new jeans and flannel with wild ass in the back of his truck. "Biggest damn mule deer I've ever seen!!" He thanks me for the praise and heads back to Bellevue.

8. My best for last: Fishing a mostly secret Zipperlip for summerruns, and fish is hooked above a mile of rapids. Fish goes across and down, around a rock. I figure I'll cross. I had already decided it was too high to cross before hooking the fish, but this was different. Get across OK, line off of rock, fish back to other side, around another rock. While crossing back, slip, ass over tea kettle. My head didn't come up for ten seconds, two small waterfalls later. My buddy said all he could see was my boots. Once under control, feet in front, I settled in for the ride until I could get out of the river. After several painful crashes into rocks, with bruises and several year old scars on my legs and back to prove it, I finally get up on a rock in the middle of the river, but still knee deep in the water. My faithful Black Lab, Guinness, no doubt on a mission to save me, or to play with me, comes roaring down the river and takes me out at the knees. My second ride was as long as the first. Finally I dog paddle to the shore after two hundred yards of all out whitewater, and my buddy arrives as I am untangling the fishing line from all around my body. (I hope it would be obvious to say I lost my hat, fanny pack, knife, etc., but did NOT let loose of my GL3!) He arrives, I unwrap the line, and there's a damn near belly up twelve pound hatchery hen floating by. Still attached to my line. I reel her in, grab her by the tail, and let out a war whoop that likely sent every animal in the woods running. Then I sat down and shook like a leaf for ten minutes.

What a rush.

Todd.

Todd, that's a great one! Other good ones on here too. It will likely make it into the REEL TRUTH fishing book being written this year. If you don't mind your last name being published also, send me an e-mail to ReelTruth1@aol.com . Thank you all for the laughs! Keep 'em coming. - Steve Hanson

I was flyfishing for steelhead on the soleduc one summer with a friend, after a while I realized I wasn't going to get a steelie. I geared down for cutthroat,(small stimulators). I caught several very nice cuts over the next hour. My partner, bent on steelhead and obviously getting grumpy turned and headed for the bank to gear down also. After about 2 steps he flipped his camel filter butt over his shoulder and "SPLASH" We never got a good look at the fish that hit his butt, but it was too big to be a cutthroat. I was too busy laughing at the look on his face to look for the fish.

Here is my most painful, funny story. While going "rock hopping" at the Westport jetty to get some seabass, I stop at the top of the jetty to make a cast. Don't know why just did. I was standing just even with the sand line at Halfmoon Bay. I cast out with my jig and just as it hits bottom, BANG fish on. Big fish on. So here I go with my buddy behind me to the water level/beach. I start leaping rock to rock. Just about five feet up I leaped before looking. Which was a BIG mistake. I had just landed on a seaweed and barnacle covered rock. Out from under me go the feet. BAM, right on my ass. But instead of stopping my fall I bounce off the rock and fall five feet to the rock below. As I try and see if I'm still alive and in one piece I still reel in a 24 inch lingcod. My friend said I was there one minute then POOF! gone. He then sees the top of my rod pop back up and heard me yell " Still Got It". Moral, ALWAYS LOOK BEFORE LEAPING. I don't rock hop much anymore. That was a cure all. 6'7" and 360lbs falling hard is not good on the back.

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Just because I look big, dumb, and ugly, doesn't mean I am. It means I can stomp you for calling me it!

So here I am living a dream. Not more than 5 yards down river from me dressed in new Orvis neoprene waders, a "River Runs Through It" hat, an Orvis vest, and a G Loomis nine foot 8 weight rod stands Cliffy Claven. I got the privelage of fishing near him for three straight days, sharing fishing yarns of his many conquests with the "Mighty Steelhead" and his exploits of 200 fish spring seasons on the Brule River in Northern Wisconsin (which is almost impossible for a mortal man). To whom did I owe, for this beautiful moment in time, where I could share fishing stories, and trivia at the same time?

Cliffy and I became real "chums" over those three days, as he explained the finer points of establishing a productive drift for the "Mighty Steelhead". He would tell me of making his presentation, feeling the methodical tapping of lead on gravel, and at the opportune moment, "striking" the fish. I was saddened after three days to not see Cliffy put this technique to use, after my "other" friend and I had hooked over 60 fish a day each. Could Cliffy be jinxed, on this river? Surely he couldn't be knitting yet another yarn, and slightly overstating his fishing prowess.

Needless to say, late in the 3rd day, the blessed moment occured, and Cliffy "struck' a fish. The hook came out of the fish under much pressure, sending the tip of his Loomis fly rod in to a tree limb, thus shortening it by a foot. He now had a three piece 8 foot, 1 foot, 8 weight rod. He was emotionally horrified. He headed up the bank, shattered rod and dreams in hand, never to be seen again.

It was at this time that my "other" friend that I have known since 10th grade decided to re-live that fateful moment that Cliffy had just experienced. So Chuck (my other friend)says " I stealthily cast my line to the holding area of the pool, tightened my line for the rythmic tap of lead on gravel, detected a hesitation in my drift, and "struck the fish". This doesn't seem life threatining does it? It was.

Let me tell you that at this very moment, I had lost my rig, and was snelling up another hook with yarn. I had a 1 inch piece of yarn held loosely in my left hand, and the hook in my right hand. At the end of Chucks story, I inhaled so violently, to keep from losing it, and sucked the 1 inch piece of yarn directly in to my lungs. I was instantly vapor locked, and choking. I could not get a single bit of air in to my system. The river was running fairly hard, and was up to my waist in water. I didn't want to drop my rod, so I continued to stumble around in the middle of the river. I was ckoing big time. I was getting dizzy and light headed, and thought it was all over. Chuck saw the yarn dissapear in to my lungs, and was laughing too hard to be of any help (paybacks are hell). All of a sudden, I got a shot of air, and puked up some flem, and mixed in it was 6 inch long pieces of golden nugget glo bug yarn. I continued to dry heave and blow up 6 inch chunks of yarn for almost 10 minutes. There was a flem and yarn slick that covered the next three guys directly down river from me. Repulsed, they started to back out of the river. Now, I want to know how a piece of yarn goes in your lungs, at 1 inch in length, and comes out 6 times longer a few mintues later. I figure I hurled up about three bags of Glo bug Yarn by the time I was done. Just enough to make a size XL Golden Nugget cardigan without buttons.

I dry heaved so long, that Chuck and the guy next to me were bent over blowing chow in the river, and another friend of ours ran across the bridge, and back down in to the river thinking he was going to have to give me CPR. I know it's hard to believe, but I almost got killed by a 1 inch long piece of glo bug yarn. When Andy Matthews says its "fluffy" he ain't just a shittin ya, because you can't breath with it in your lungs. Cliffy, if you are out there, I miss you.

God I'm low on the list. I could probablly regurgitate a Penthouse Forum letter and no one would notice this far down!
Anyhow, I was fishing Cliff Lake off SW Montana's Madison River several years ago. Cliff Lake is legendary for its big browns and rainbows (held the Montana State record with a 28lb. brown for a few years) so my partner and I were jacked for the possibility of getting a tow by one of these brutes in our tubes. However, Cliff is a deep, deep lake and we we using everything we had to get our flies down 30-40 feet into the "zone". With anticipation still riding high, we kicked past an anchored jon boat grossly overloaded with several cowboy hatted adults, 5-6 rugrats, a couple of mangy dogs, numerous coolers, a veritable briar patch of spinning rods AND a stringer of fish that looked like something out of my granpa's photo album of salmon fishing off Point No Point in the 1920's!
Trying to sound nonchalant, while also drooling a tad, I cast out the proverbial "How's fishing?" to the mob. Actually I was ready to ply these local worm dunkers for all the information I could wring out of them...depth, bait etc... Being an "purist,snobby,flyfisheran" I wasn't going to allow those worm chuckers the satifaction of knowing that their Powerbait encrusted snelled baithooks from the local True Value were kicking the crap out of my Orvis, Sage, Scientific Angler blah, blah, blah, setup towing the perfectly tied hellioandropomorphic sculpin pattern indiginous to that environment. How's that for fly lingo?
Anyhow, I was rewarded with a reply of "Great fishing! Daddy hold up my fish!" from a beaming little girl about age 8. Well, "Daddy" with true friendly Montana hospitality, smiled and pulled up an obnioxios vine of trout none under 18-inches and one (which I supposed was the happy little girl's catch) looked to push the 30-inch mark. It was truly a thing of beauty and Kodak moment. Except that right when Grandma was snapping a picture of little Debbie and her monster, one of the overloaded chain links next to Daddy's hand decided that the steel in the 99-cent K-Mart stringer need to pop loose to relieve 20-some pounds of rainbow trout induced stress on it.
When those fish fell in the water, a numb silence fell across the boat for a second and then with looks of horror, pure pandemoneum busted loose. Dogs and cowboy hats flew in the water, Granpma and Daddy were lunging for the prized stringer, the allready overloaded boat was wildly rocking and shipping ungodly amounts of water, Mom and Grandma were screaming at everyone to sit down, Grandma's camera went swimming....PURE HELL for 10-seconds. It all subsided and silence prevailed in the boat until the Dad metioned to the now thoughouly devestated little girl that "It's all right honey, well catch another fish."
"NO ITS NOT!" she wailed back. "WE'LL NEVER CATCH ANOTHER ONE AND IT'S ALL HIS FAULT!!!" Of course she was pointing directly at me. I was trying my best to shrink into some small unnoticable aquatic bug that could travel great distances and speeds over water in short amounts of time. And, of course in my tube I couldn't get too far too quick so I had the unpleasant task of watching the little girl bore holes in my float tube with her angry eyes while her family retrieved their pooches and bailed the old jon boat.
As they pulled anchor and fired up their old outboard to head back to what would probablly be a somber camp, my partner was laughing his head off. I felt horrible for inadvertantly ruining a little girls fishing day (probablly scarring her for life and turning her into a man-hating, float-tube despising, angry assasin of anything toting a damned flyrod woman).
Anyhow, there is something to be said for karma since I spent 6 more days in the fly-fishing paradise of Montana and could only hook a whitefish or two. The fish gods had their revenge. Every drop of water I touched from the Clark Fork, to the Henry's Fork, to Clark Canyon Resevior went utterly dead (for everyone) upon my arrival. I finally flew out of Bozeman to return my job in disgust. Of course two hours after I was airborn, my friend was driving (he stayed another week)a favorite stretch of the Missouri and saw with a smile that rods were bent for a mile stretch of river. He claims he was never so happy to see a fishing buddy go home. I can't blame him. Since that day whenever the Queets, Naselle, Dry Falls, or any other water fails to give up a thing, he blames me and the Cliff Lake debaucle.
My partner that day never fails to revive that story when he puts on a slide show for a fly club or hosts his booth at a sportsman's expo. I still feel like an ass about it.

[This message has been edited by Chuckn'Duck (edited 04-13-2000).]

Hawk & Chuck- Thanks. I'm still lol. Love it. Appreciate you posting these great stories to my thread here. Talent on this board!! (BTW- C&D, 6 slow days & you didn't run up the Madison or down to the Henry's Fork?).- We are having a Funny Fishing Story contest on our Discussion Board at www.ifish.net . The prize is a guided King fishing trip for 2. I don't suppose that much interests you guys from far away, but the stories would be more than welcomed by our readers. I plan on using many of the stories from here & our DB for my "The REEL TRUTH" book story section, to follow the tech intensive sections on salmon/steelhead fishing in the NW. I plan on crediting nickname/monikers unless I recieve an e-mail with your name (which I will verify to your story) to ReelTruth1@aol.com . And keep the stories coming! I've seen thread subjects go above 50 posts on here, and it puts the thread back up near the top so people will know there's a new story. Thanks again guys, Steve Hanson

[This message has been edited by Reel Truth (edited 04-13-2000).]

[This message has been edited by Reel Truth (edited 04-13-2000).]