Salmon Run

Salmon brought to hand (and you) courtesy of Jacob Pfeiffer



At the Little Black Hole this fella arrived, grounded his gear in this hole near the Glide.  He was clad all in tan from waders to mack, and he summoned king salmon with unholy knack. Char, corralled at his feet did not lack, a lucky SOB and that's for a fact.   He heard Henry's query and turned with a smirk, his fly pattern hidden and doing its' work..  "What are you doing that I'm not my friend?"  To this he replied with impish grin, THE DIFFERENCE IS EASY YOU’VE GOTTA PUT IN THE WORK"! True story and I thought Henry might toss the fellow into Little Black Hole.   It's true ...with salmon after you develop a base level of skill luck and luck of position and drift are a substantial factor.  Henry and I would return to little black hole later in the adventure and be out-fished by a wide margin by 1st time anglers Lauren (14), Ben (11) and brother Rob (9).    It was amazing; their inattention to line and leader an advantage in contrast to our studious application of all manner of accepted technique (which didn't work)....good times.  Sometimes you're the bug, but more often this trip the windshield -- we enjoyed incredible success during the trip as you can see below...

Henry with a impossibly massive King Salmon -- Hen (large man) had a hard time wrestling this fish

This was a wonderful trip, highlighted by company who had fished these Pfeiffer waters before, but not together.  Life is rarely predictable, but this summer it became apparent that Bill would be able to host sons Fritz and Paul and grandson Jacob and Henry and I were lucky to be able to join them. The Salmon River/ to the Pfeiffers  (what the)  Little Bigfoot / to the Macleans -- a watery touchstone.

Not long before Jacob is as tall as Fritz

Jacob and Paul take a sunset break at the head of River Lodge Run 





Bill, Jacob and Matt wait for Henry to leave return (that guy loves to fish!)

Father and Son at the Meadow

Bill works a seam

they get a lot of practice w selfies (not)



Matt, Paul, Bill and Henry pause a moment at Rover Lodge Run

Salmon fishing is dependent on the run -- a good run promising hookups with monster Kings and colorful Cohos as their physiology drives them on a one way race to their spawning grounds.  We hit it right -- Salmon had been stacking up in the estuary and on Friday (10/7) they began a jail break and then on Saturday a blustery rain increased their numbers to something worthy of a WFN special.
     

Thigh deep in the cold water we usually contemplate fishy thoughts balancing the chance of a strike with the cold seeping into our joints, this trip the scream of reels and line slicing through water kept us alert and on euphoric edge. These spawn-and-death char are not interested in any deviation to their plan and that makes them all the more entertaining as they fight with all their strength. A lucky and skilled angler may land one of 4 fair hooked salmon.

I'd hooked into many a Salmon on earlier trips but had not actuallty brought one to hand so I was ELATED when I brought that streak to end, and true to the character of this trip Fritz, witness to my previous efforts, was even happier for me.   Salmon fishing here on the DSR is a community experience and the better the company the better the experience. 

More than tactics, which we improved, and gear, which we refined, the treasured takeaways from this trip are the memories:

            ~ Bill: sitting on a perfect shale seat soaking in his sons and grandson fishing together

           ~ Jacob: momentarily disconsolate after losing a monster in the driving rain and then jubilant when he landed another (see first photo of post)

            ~ Henry: beaming & chomping at the bit, geared up and ready while the rest of us hadn't rubbed the sleep from our eyes

             ~ Paul working a quiet seem in front of the lodge and pulling salmon after salmon from its darting shadows

            ~ The joy on Fritz' face when I landed a salmon (his mentoring complete)  

            ~ Paul standing among racing salmon as they splashed him & passed him at the top of the Meadow  

            ~ Standing in 50 degree water in a driving rainstorm line screaming and slicing the water hoping that I my backing flyline knot would hold true

            ~ The elated cries of "Fish On" keeping the cold at bay 

            ~ Realization that that shadow, that log you nearly stepped on is a Salmon

            ~ And yes Henry getting told, "You've just gotta put in the work!"

 Thanks for looking and for a great trip -- Tight Lines -- Matt