I fish for fish, no other reason. Oh, maybe because of the competition.

The Tununak River

I like to complain about fishing.  It's fun for me - to complain.  I'm sure I complain for the same reason anybody complains about anything - as a means to divert blame for one's ineptness.  But this is not a blog of complaint.  Rather, it is a blog of celebration.  A celebration of fishing and how awesome it is.  A celebration of salmon and their wonderful ability to find my hook, bite down, and end up as dinner on my plate.  Ahhh, sweet, sweet salmon.  To think back to those two days of fishing makes me forget what I dislike about fishing.  Almost.

Robby and his giant fish

My success story started one evening.  I had been invited to go up river by one of my students.  Duh...I'm going.  At the time, I'm thinking that even if I don't catch any fish, the river is fantastic to be on in the evening.  Oh yeah - the mosquitoes had retired for the year (the last trip they were worse that anything I could have ever imagined.  Northern Minnesota has NOTHING on Alaska mosquitoes.  I'm not kidding).  Anyways, I grab my rod, tackle box, and throw on my rubber boots.  We pick up Robby (my neighbor) and head out to the boat.  A twenty minute journey and we are at our little spot.  And then the most amazing thing happened.  Seriously, in the history of time, this is probably the single greatest thing.  I cast my line out...and caught a fish.  I had a fish on the end of my line before my fishing guide or Robby had even gotten to their spots let alone had the chance to cast.  Oh glorious day.  In the boat I had a beautiful silver salmon.  The score, for those of you keeping track at home is now 1-0-0, with me in the lead.  Of course, minutes later my guide gets a bite.  I try to be a good sport.  But his fish is so much bigger than mine - and it's bright red.  Apparently the longer the silvers have been in the river, the less silver they become and they take on a beautiful red color.  They are striking to look at.  Raw score... 1-1-0.  No big deal.

Perspective is everything

Fishing goes on for a while with bites and fights and fish interrupting the evening often enough to keep things interesting.  Final score for the evening 2-3-2.  I lost.  It's okay though because I caught not one, but two beautiful fish: one smaller silver salmon and one trout (called a dolly vardon(sp?) for whatever reason I have no idea).  Robby ended up with two nice sized reds (which are technically silver salmon).  My host: four large reds.  Figures.

It's amazing what this night did to my faith in fishing.  Up until this moment I was convinced that there were no more fish in the river.  I would be out fishing, share my opinion with my fishing partners only to have them catch a fish in the next five minutes.  "Okay then," I would say, "now there are no more fish in the river.  That was the last one, and you caught it.  Time to go home."  But this most recent event changed everything.  Not only were there fish in this river, they were huge, and beautiful, and delicious, and best of all, they were willing to bite my hook.  I needed to get out fishing at least one more time.  That chance came that weekend, and is the topic of the next blog.  Stay tuned...

The definition of satisfied