Freight Train on the Line
September 5, 2006
I love fall king salmon fishing. The epic takedowns you get on Kwikfish; the autumn colors along the river; the crisp nights and warm days; the bobber downs, big head shakes and long runs. There’s nothing quite like it. Just imagine sitting there…watching the river go by…and then THUNK…PUMP…PUMP! Your rod tip gets jerked down several times. Hard. At first, you’re taken aback by the violent nature of the act. The strike is about as subtle as a slap across the face with a wet hand on a 32-degree day and you sit there, momentarily stunned.
You rod continues to buck wildly. If you sit there dazed and out of it any longer, the monster’s going to get away. But, a little voice in the back of your head starts getting through. Pal…hey buddy…youhoo…
WAKE UP!!
You snap to and rear back mightily on the rod. The hook set is true and you can feel the beast surge downriver like a loaded Southern Pacific headed down the Colfax Grade. You try to slow the fish’s streaking run by putting pressure on the rapidly-revolving spool with your thumb. SSSSSSSINGE!! You jerk your hand away from the reel like you’d touched an electric fence. Don’t worry — the pain will go away…in about week. No time to suck that thumb now, though — you’ve gotta hang on for dear life.
Only moments ago, you were being lured into a drowsy-God-ain’t-this-the-greatest-way-to-spend-a-day sleep by the gentle rocking of the boat, but now — now, your heart is pumping at light speed like you just downed a double espresso and chased it with a Jolt Cola.
You’re running on pure adrenaline now, baby! Your fish — or are you his? — is heading for the Pacific and it doesn’t look like he’s got any plans to stop for gas. You crank down on the reel’s drag a little, but you hear the rod creak in protest. The poor thing is bent all the way over to the handle and looks like it will explode into a million little shards of graphite if you don’t back off the drag soon. Not that a $255 rod going up in smoke wouldn’t be kinda cool to see, but you want this fish bad. Real bad. So, you ease off the pressure a bit and the line goes completely slack.
You feel this my-dog-just-died sick feeling in the pit of your gut. That behemoth of a lifetime just stole your hook — not to mention your heart. You stand there bewildered…wondering what went wrong…what you could have done differently. And then there’s that little voice again.
Reel! Reel, you stupid sucker…reel like there’s no tomorrow!
And so you start cranking fervently on the reel handle. That’s when you notice that your line is now heading upstream! The crafty salmon did a U-turn on you and then sped like crazy in the opposite direction. The trick almost worked, but your mad reeling enables you to regain tension and the hook holds. The battle’s still on. The fish is starting to show a little fatigue now, however, and you’re able to gain some line back.
He gives up the long runs in favor of a bottom-hugging approach and several tense moments pass as you try to wrestle the brute off the cobble riverbed. Again the sick feeling rises from the bottom of your stomach as you feel the great fish drag you line across an abrasive log…but it doesn’t part. You’ve still got him. You work the rod at an angle to get the salmon back out into the relatively snag-free middle of the pool. Pump and reel…pump and reel. He’s coming up, getting closer. Closer…closer…
The feeling you get the second before you first get a chance to see what’s at the end of you line is an intense blend of exhilaration and apprehension. When you see the outline of the mammoth fish come out of the green depths, your knees start to knock loudly and your arms get shaky. You start to get too careful and put less pressure on the fish. And that’s exactly what he’s hoping you’ll do. A quick glance at the boat and the salmon is off on another blazing run. But, you’re able thwart his efforts and get him turned around again. He spies the boat again and off he goes…
After a few more short runs, the killer instinct in you returns and you decide that there’s nothing that’s going to keep you from getting this fish in the boat. You really put the pressure on and glide him, nose first, into the waiting mesh of the landing net. When the giant salmon feels the net, he goes berserk, and in all the splashing and shouting, you can’t tell what’s happening. Your hook comes flying out of the water — sans salmon — and the emotional roller coaster goes for another steep dip. But…when your buddy lifts the net out of the water you see your prize has not escaped!
You marvel at the salmon’s beauty as it lies on the bottom of the boat — its silver flanks glowing in the sunlight. It’s as big around as your torso and longer than you leg. Time to sit back and reflect? Nah, you re-bait and get your line right back in the water…that was way too fun!
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