Tough Days on the Water

I was catching nothing but rays on our first sturgeon outing of the year. We’d seen a good number of big fish rolling on the waves of the Columbia, but none seemed to be much interested in our anchovies. A few other anglers had fish on stringers from their boats, just enough to make us both jealous and hopeful. But the day was lovely and before long, I had kicked back in my captain’s chair, watching the eagles soar overhead.

My buddy Steve had managed to boat a couple of small fish, in the 40-inch class, but as the tide turned, our bite turned into attacks by a variety of little bait-stealing fish and crabs. I’d pretty much figured nothing would happen till the tide started flooding when my rod tip dove for the bottom!

I tripped over Steve’s leg as I stumbled toward the stern, grabbing the rod just as the line started peeling off. I could hardly get it off the rod holder since the fish was pulling so hard. As I hoisted it from the rail, I set the clicker. I love the sound of line peeling off, and it gives the others fishing in the boat a chance to enjoy the fish vicariously. The fish was going off to port, and I could hear the steady clicking from the reel. I set the hook hard, and felt no give at all—something big was on the other end. But if he was big, he was certainly unconcerned. I could feel his great tail swishing, but there was no explosive run. After hauling some line to the port, he headed down river, slowly and controlled, pulling off line with no effort, but with no sense of urgency.

My line slackened. Recovering monofilament as quickly as I could, I could still feel his weight. When he was right to the boat, I set the hook again. With only 15 feet of depth, it hit him hard, but again I could feel no give in the fish. Finally he starting swimming downstream and off to starboard. The line went out steadily and started moving faster with the current. And then my line went slack. I couldn’t believe it! How could the great fish have shook the hook?

Clever Fish
The answer was on the end of my line. When I finally got to the business end, there was a huge diamond, one of the primitive scales that graced the side of the great fish, stuck on my hook. Somehow he had snagged the hook on his side and had been moving around, trying to free himself from the line. Like many of the old sturgeon in the river, he had probably hit a gill net or two in his time and was working to free himself from this other interruption, going back and forth till he got free, leaving me with nothing but a souvenir!

Later that day, after returning home once again fishless, I got a call from my longtime fishing partner, Skip, back in Michigan. He too had spent the day on the water. “Bob, you won’t believe what happened to me on Lake Michigan today!” I decided to save my story for later and let him tell his tale first.

“We couldn’t hold on to anything today. Five fish smacked our lines, and we only managed to handle one, a nice 18-pound chinook,” he laughed! “The rest of the fish just trashed us. The first one to hit broke my rod holder right off the side of the boat, and then snapped the line when we couldn’t get the rod free.”

After that it got worse. “The next fish that hit was on my downrigger; it took off so much line that I tried to put a little pressure on it before the reel was empty. All that managed to do was to straighten out the hook!” That was two gone. The story gets better. “Then we got one that we fought for nearly 40 minutes. The hook held but the snap swivel on my snubber straightened out! That darned thing is supposed to give to protect the hook. I was fried.”

One Success
Skip was obviously a little ticked, but did have one bright spot! “Then the 18 pounder hit and we got that in with no trouble at all. It felt like a little trout compared to the other monsters that we hooked.” And the final fish?

“Just before we came in, we locked onto another chunk. After half an hour we got it to the boat. It looked huge in the water, but when it saw the boat, it ran the leader into our prop before we could get a net anywhere near it!” What a day that must have been. What did he learn from the fiasco? “I’ve spent most of the afternoon shopping for heavier stuff and putting in new line, hooks and rigging I’m going to land one of these big boys tomorrow!” Skip sounded determined.

Did it work? It’s been a couple of weeks and I haven’t heard anything—maybe he’s still upgrading! Did I tell him my story? After his morning on the lake, it seemed pretty puny. Some days the second liar doesn’t stand a chance!

Bob Ellsberg’s column, Fishin’, appears monthly in RV Life and rvlife.com.