EVERYDAY LIFE: Gone fishing

Published Jan. 29, 2010

(Editor’s Note: This column was previously published in the Foothills Gazette. John McKnight was stuck in D.C. (with no identification on him!) as of press time. He’ll return with a new column in our next issue, and I’m sure he’ll tell us all about it.)

by John McKnight
It was the day after the Superbowl, a day I always take off. A lot of people probably wish they did, and some might have made it out fishing that Monday if they had.  Working just might be easier than fishing the day after the Superbowl.
It was cold and might rain, or might snow, but generally it was perfect fishing weather as long as you have the right gear. I hit the trail and crunched through the winter leftovers wondering why it can’t just go ahead and snow for real someday. Mostly I wondered if there’d be any fish, should be, but you never know.  There is only one decent hole close by to fish at, and it gets pretty shallow at times.  Sometimes that doesn’t matter, sometimes it does.
I had a lot of time today so if it didn’t pan out I could explore up river and see what I could see.  So working the far bank around the rocks and getting no action at all, I wasn’t too disappointed I’d have to go upstream.  It had been years since I’d been up that way and who knows what the river had done since?
Hitting a couple of promising looking spots along the way I did a fair job of catching the bottom.  Kind of what it feels like to hook that big fish for a second, but then it moves, the bottom doesn’t.  And I was lucky; I didn’t lose my lure, that’s something to be happy about.
There was a long stretch of river bank to walk to what looked like the next hole.  And it felt good to cruise unimpeded instead of bushwhacking through the shrubbery and dead debris in the woods.  So I lit a cigar for the stroll.  I’m not a smoker, but I enjoy a good cigar out of doors now and then, or a briar pipe around the campfire.   No sooner did I get it good and going when I slipped on a rock and knocked it out of my mouth with my fishing pole.  I broke it too…the cigar not the pole.
Up around the bend I found what looked to be the deepest hole yet. Above that the river had made a detour through the woods and looked completely out of shape for any fishing.  Or I was just a little too out of shape to think working around all the down trees would be worth finding out what lay around the next corner.  So I’d make this my last corner before heading back.
Weird thing is the hole was slowly filling in with fine gravel and sand.  This gave me good access but I had to think twice before stepping out onto the little sand bar.  Sometimes they look real solid until you’re on them, then quick as a wink you’re up to your ankles and sinking fast.  Not a good feeling. So I tested and prodded then stepped lightly, as lightly as I could step after eating all day at a Superbowl party.  And it was solid, though I never completely trusted it and tried to use the same spots to walk and stand.
Once again I was killing the bottom, but always managed to get my lure unstuck just as I was ready to break the line.  Then the bottom moved, and in that split second that I realized I had a fish, my line went slack and I saw him roll on the surface. He was big that fish that got away, but not nearly as big as the waterlogged stick I caught about 20 minutes later.

John McKnight has been exploring Whatcom and Skagit counties for over 25 years. He can be e-mailed at john@foothillsgazette.com.