It
was a cool crisp summer morning and the sun was just starting to rise on the
horizon. There was a thin layer of fog, hovering over the water. I grabbed the
fishing gear out of my car and began to walk out onto the pier to meet up with
my good buddy Aaron. It was July 2004, at the Les Davis
fishing pier in Tacoma, and it was a day that was going to change my life.
The summer of 2004 was when I first
discovered salmon fishing. One day after work, I had decided to go for a walk
along Tacoma's waterfront. I ended up walking by the fishing pier, and I
noticed that there were dozens of anglers moving their fishing rods up and down
in unison. They would cast their lures out as far as they could, and then
slowly reel them back in while jigging their rod tips up and down in short six
inch movements. I was intrigued by what I saw and decided to go ask what they
were fishing for and the reason for the jigging action.
After having a pretty in-depth conversation
with an angler named Chad, and learned they were fishing for salmon. The
fishermen were using lures, which are designed to replicate wounded bait fish
to attract the salmon and entice them to strike. Some of the lures looked like
herring while others looked like candlefish. Some were just brightly colored
diamond-shaped pieces of lead that are called buzz bombs. Chad informed me that
salmon are very aggressive fish that eat as much food as they could to build up
the energy they would need to enter the rivers and make the incredible journey
back to their spawning grounds. These fish would completely stop eating once
they entered the rivers, and would literally beat themselves almost to death
jumping up river rapids, negotiating treacherous log jams, shallow water, and
numerous other obstacles. Upon reaching their spawning grounds, the female salmon
lay their eggs, males fertilize them, and then the fish would die, completing
the life cycle of these magnificent creatures.
After learning all of this
interesting information, I became determined to catch a salmon for myself. After
seeing how interested I was in fishing, Chad had offered to meet me at a local
sporting goods store and he helped me in the purchase of a rod and reel, some
lures, and all the gear that was necessary to go salmon fishing. I spent
countless mornings at the pier learning how to cast, tie fishing knots, and
work the lures to imitate a wounded bait fish. Some days I would get
discouraged that I had not caught a fish yet, but there was something so
peaceful and calming about being on the water and being one with nature. I
never knew I could have such a bond with nature right in my own city, just five
minutes from home.
On
that particular morning I woke up at the crack of dawn, downed a cup of coffee,
and made my way to the dock right before first light. I made my first cast just
as the sun started to come up on the horizon. I had tied on an all chrome candlefish,
made by the Point Wilson Dart Company, with one small bead swivel in line to
prevent my mono filament line from getting tangled. I jigged my rod tip up six
inches and reeled a few cranks of line in, then repeated that process until the
lure was visible in front of me. I cast the lure back out and repeated the
process. The jigging soon became a rhythm that I didn't even need to think
about. My friend, Aaron, had met me at the dock that morning and was jigging along
by my side. As we would jig up and down and reel our lures back in, we talked
about what was going on in each of our lives, having friendly conversation.
I was mid-sentence, as I jigged my lure upward when it suddenly
came to a complete stop. The lure felt like it had just gotten snagged on
something solid and hard. Just when I thought my lure had snagged on the bottom
of the Puget Sound, the drag on my reel started screaming as line started
leaving the reel rapidly. I could see my rod tip jerking up and down as the
fish shook its head trying to remove the hooks from its mouth. I couldn't
believe it, I had hooked my first salmon! My adrenaline was pumping as I fought
the fish. I would reel in a few cranks and the fish would run away and strip
the line right back off my reel. I could tell that this fish was much larger
than any of the trout I had caught in local lakes as a kid, and fighting it was
like nothing I had ever experienced before. Other anglers up and down the pier
noticed that I had a fish on and hurried over to watch the battle ensue, when
suddenly the fish leaped from the water, and I caught my first glimpse of it. A
huge, shiny chrome Chinook salmon buck crashed back into the water with a giant
splash. Sighting the fish and being surrounded by other anglers added to my
excitement immensely. I could feel my heart beating faster and faster within my
chest. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, the monstrous fish
started to give up his battle.
"Don't horse him in," another fisherman advised, as I
reeled the fish in the last few feet. "Ok, hold him right there, he's
almost in the net!" he exclaimed. Then I heard another fisherman yell
"Got him!" and I let out a sigh of relief. My hands and arms were
shaking with a combination of excitement and fatigue. I was in disbelief. I had
caught my first salmon, and what a salmon it was! The king salmon weighed in at 17lbs and was chrome bright, covered in sea lice, and was by far the largest
fish I had ever caught.
From that moment on, I was hooked. Since that day, I have fished
every chance I've had over the years. I have fished for salmon and steelhead
all over the Pacific Northwest. I have fished in the Baltic Sea while on a
training mission with the Marine Corps in Latvia. I've fished for carp in the
private ponds of Saddam Hussein, outside what was once his personal palace,
while deployed to Iraq. I spent countless hours tying fishing leaders and
mailing them home while deployed to Afghanistan. I have participated in many
events focused on the conservation of fish and the sport of fishing in
Washington State. Fishing has become, not only a hobby, but a passion and
lifestyle that I hope to continue to enjoy and share with others until my dying
days.