ne of the golden perks associated with writing this column is the cornucopia of remarkable posts that land in the R.E.I. gmail inbox.
Sometimes the missives are so colorful that their only printable components are the quotation marks. Others have run the gamut from palpably 90-proof enhanced rants to hysterically funny yarns worthy of “Depends recommended” status.
Last Monday I opened a voicemail from my compadre Turk. He was so riled up that residual smoke leaked out of the receiver.
He started off suggesting that since the Kachemak Bay Coho Salmon Gillnet Fishery is now open, why shouldn’t anglers at the Nick Dudiak Fishing Lagoon be able to take a shot a snagging them? He figured there wasn’t that much difference from thumping the silvers with a treble hook and hanging them up in a gillnet. He grumped that more anglers would get a shot at what was left of the run that way.
Things have continued to roll along in the silver fishery along the east side of The Spit.
Remember last week when I hinted that if things were slow on the inside of the lagoon that you might want to take your gear and amble down the beach as the tide started easing up the banks?
Wow, did we somehow pick up a serious tail wind of time since this column’s seasonal debut? Come on, Aug. 6 already?
It seems like it was just a short time ago that I first reported chinooks were starting to conduct drive-by strikes in the Nick Dudiak Lagoon back in mid-May.
Since then the column has touched on subjects from how to recognize what species you are landing to a plethora of hints on techniques to entice those gleaming beauties to hit and where to find them.
I have received an unusual amount of email asking how to report angler evil-doers to the Alaska Wildlife Troopers without tying up 911.
The local number to turn in the violators is 907-235- 8239. Use it. Advise them where you are and what’s going down along with a description of the miscreant(s), their vehicle and its license plate if you can do it without being challenged to a cage fight.
Let’s face it. Putting the hammer on silvers while they are cruising beneath our inlet waters or doing acerebral loops inside the infamous Nick Dudiak Fishing lagoon can be a spectacle of aerobatic fights and unruly runs.
Yes, I realize that pinks are also fierce and insolent battlers, but it takes more skill to keep them off your line than getting them to hit. The only thing stupider than a school of humpies is a canned one, but not by much.
It was an interesting past week for the sports fishing crowd. A distaff member of the flatfish hunting group shot into first place in the Homer Jackpot Halibut Derby when Linda Scott of Bloomington, Minn., hammered a 224.4-pound halibut while sinking bait with DeepStrike Sportsfishing off the Grand Aleutian captained by David Bayes.
Staring at the picture of her and the ’but, I’d say Linda must be packin’ some class act biceps under her jacket’s sleeves. I got a kink in my back just eyeballing the photograph.
Back in late June this column reported on a plethora of angling misconducts Alaska Wildlife Troopers had to deal with because of clueless dipsticks.
I was hoping that things would chill out with the scofflaw crowd because the piece sent a pretty blatant warning that they were being watched and enforcement officials were packin’ bottomless ink pens along with enough ticket books to fabricate an emergency shelter.
I was asked yesterday what I thought about lingcod. I deliberated for a few seconds and then replied, “Well I know from personal experience that they are Freddy Kruger gruesome, have a set of choppers that would give a salmon shark a coronary, and enjoy making a brunch out of their own relatives.
“Other than that they are kind of laidback unless you insult them by staring them dead in the eye or get anywhere near what they consider their personal space.
ormally I don’t get into to the area of investments but after reading the Alaska Wildlife Trooper’s section of the police report in the Homer News last week, I’d suggest that you consider buying some shares in the Bic Pen Company.
If things keep up, there’s going to be a big run on their product after a bunch of anglers were summarily busted for not recording their king catches.
I need to start this column with a warning: There is a despicable sneak thief roaming the Homer Spit and the area prowler can ruin your day if you have your head up and locked even for a few seconds.
I have spotted this miscreant myself or at least his E-Vile twin.
Homer News reporter and all-around cool guy Michael Armstrong decided to pass the sordid tale along to me although he usually handles the local crime beat.
Why moi? Well, he’s a hard-hitting professional who deals with the intense stuff.
It’s always righteous to be able to start out a column on the upbeat although things may slide a bit backward as the initial subject matter develops.
The good news is the Anchor River seems to be on the comeback. As of Sunday, 3,119 kings were tallied by the weir. On the same date in 2014 there were 1,859 easing up stream. 2013 reeked like a dead seal with serious decomposition issues when barely 306 pushed through by June 7.
Before we get rolling, I’d like to take a step back to last Thursday when I took a shot at those
anglers that wale away at kings using dork enabled, 2-fer-1, $9.99 Cosmos Combo Caster Specials while fishing the Spit’s lagoon.
I still think they come across as having the intellect of dried squid because of the commotion they cause in a limited space.
The rumors are true, folks. The staff of Reeling ’Em has signed on for another summer of profound and incisive reporting about fish enabled topics.
It may get braggadocios because this year we’ll be using oiled reels, fresh line, new hooks and poles sporting complete tips and functional eyelets not held together with Duct Tape.
We figured it was about time for change when we suffered more malfunctions last year than the federal employees’ financial record-keeping systems and email accounts. It was embarrassing, at least for us.
I am going to go out on a very thick limb and declare the silver run at the Nick Dudiak Fishing Lagoon deader than a seniors-only concert featuring Roseanne Barr singing the national anthem after activating her one remaining brain cell.
I had heard rumors that there were still some jumpers accompanying the incoming tides so Jane and I checked it out on Sunday.
Last Saturday during the incoming tide, I decided to take on a unique challenge by attempting to simultaneously scrutinize two events at the Fishing Hole while enjoying a hot lunch with my wife and ignoring a death stare from our official munch monitor, a treataholic miniature poodle.
If you haven’t joined the silver stampede yet, just wait. Toward the end of the week there are going to be a series of tides so huge the cohoes could be surging into the area in schools larger than the old Sierra Nevada Comstock Lode.
Anyone visiting the Spit during the last few weeks who has the observation skills of a plastic garden gnome knows the silvers have been somersaulting out of the water everywhere from the base of Mud Bay to inside the boat harbor.
My wife and I relearned a lesson over the last week and it wasn’t pretty. Since The Fishing Hole has been handing out silver liked a short-circuited slot machine in Reno, we decide that we’d slip out there and pick up a couple of those beauties for the barbecue.
Something went wrong. Way wrong.
We have this semi-secret special technique that hasn’t failed us for years and we were confident that we would be back in a couple of hours packing some nice fillets.