My family and I have enjoyed a terrific summer of fishing. The freezer is full of fish, the memories are fresh, and the pictures tell it all. I hope you don't mind if I share... If you missed the first "Fishing in the Northwest" thread, you might like to begin there.
http://www.jehovahs-witness.com/26/74193/1.ashx
Our first family outing took us to the Mount Baker Snoqualmie National Forest, about 2 hours North of our home in Edmonds. That's a long drive for our children, ages 6 and 8. But Zoe was eager to try out her new fishing rod, and Rhys was ready to show off his casting skills, so off we went. Rhys quickly landed the first fish, a nice native Rainbow. Zoe followed with a nice catch of her own, a somewhat larger Rainbow, a fact she repeatedly emphasized to her older brother.
Fishing about 25 yards upstream, I watched as graceful, shadowy leviathan followed my lure from behind a submerged boulder. She carved a smooth, powerful arc, and then she was gone. My heart pounded as I prepared to cast again, when just over the roar of the stream I hear, "Daaaaaaaaaaddddddddyyyyy......!" Glancing down towards the family, I saw that Zoe had snagged in the middle of the stream, and Rhys' spinning reel had turned into a bundle of spaghetti. Rachel had tried to straighten things out, but this was a job for Dad. Off I went, wondering if the lunker would be there when I returned...
Ten minutes later, I carefully approached the bank, peering through the surface glare and ripples for any sign of the fish. Several casts later, WHAM! She hit like thunder, bending my rod in half. I shouted to the kids, who ran across the boulders along the bank to watch as I brought her in, a 7lb., 26" Dolly Varden, the biggest I've ever caught. This is a crystalline memory to me, my children's eyes popping with amazement, their mouths wide open with pure awe, as I drew the fish up on the sandy bank.
Here we are an hour or so later, proudly displaying our catch:
I couldn't get them to hold that stringer tight...but you get the idea. I think that fishing caught Rhys and Zoe that day. Here is a close up of a Dolly Varden, one of the largest you're likely to see:
But that isn't all. This is what happens to every fish I bring home:
Can you believe that face? The kids have learned that this completes the circle, that dining on our catch is great fun, too. Rhys rarely brooks an interruption, but takes a moment to give us a "thumbs up":
We scheduled a camping trip to the same area a few weeks later. Although rain forced us to break camp before actually spending the night, we still found time for a campfire and smores, crucial elements to any camp experience:
A later foray up to a different creek proved to be well worth the hike. This is a 6lb, 26" buck Dolly Varden, bright in his spawning colors:
Have you heard the rumbling from Mount St. Helens? The earthquakes were just beginning last week, as we ventured out on the Cowlitz River, about 135 miles South of home. My mom's beau invited us out in his new jet sled, a sleek craft, ideal for river fishing. My seventy-something year old uncle joined us, procuring a two-day fishing permit for out of state residents, a whopping $9.67 purchase. The Chinook were running, but a catch is never certain... Worst case, we'd spend the morning on a beautiful river, and the afternoon indoors, watching the Seahawks battle the 49'ers.
Around 8:30 a.m., we were chattering away. My uncle lives in Massachusetts, and speaks with a strong local dialect... unmistakeably New England. I attended his wedding to my mother's sister in 1970 when I was ten years old, but lost contact with him after 1972, as my family became immersed in Jehovah Witless doctrine. It's been a heartwarming experience to re-establish this relationship, and we were thoroughly enjoying each other's company. His attention was on another fisherman when a movement from his rod captured my eye... Suddenly, his rod tip plunged, the rod bucked and jerked, as if trying to leap from it's holder. I shouted to him, and he grabbed the rod, line already screaming off the reel...
Chinook, also known as "King" Salmon, are the most prized of all the Salmon varieties. Relentlessly powering their way upstream after years of life in the Pacific Ocean, they are truly a force to be reckoned with. This beauty nearly exhausted my uncle, tearing downstream, circling the boat like a bent torpedo for over 20 minutes. This was our first view of her near the surface:
And again:
And here she is, finally on board, in the hands of a proud fisherman:
We'll gladly share the memory of that day. With any luck at all, we'll add a few more. I carved 6 huge, inch and a half thick thick steaks off this Chinook for dinner that night. It barely dented her... She tipped the scales at 30 pounds, a dream catch.
The Seahawks shut out San Fran later that afternoon, the first time any team has done that in over 20 years. The Cowboys stomped the 'Skins on their own turf the following day...What a weekend!
Hell, what a summer!
Steve, Rachel, Rhys, and Zoe
