TR: Salmon R., the fishing

Like last year, the start to our annual Salmon River father-and-son
trip was delayed by son, but at least it was known in advance and
planned for. The Friday night departure being impossible, I packed
the car, set the alarm for dark-thirty; and by 4 a.m., I was on the
road north as #1 son snoozed in the passenger seat. I woke him up at
Fat Nancy’s to see if he wanted to drive a while.

Conflicting a bit with Paul & ‘tripper’s report, Malinda cautioned
that there weren’t many salmon in the river. Unfortunately, Malinda
was right; but with the compensation that steelhead were more
plentiful. A good tradeoff.

Eschewing the temptation to write a lengthy play-by-play, I’ll touch
on the highlights. All three days started slow for us. We mostly
stuck to the lower ffo stretch. #1 son was first to land a salmon on
Saturday afternoon, and once the action started, we had a satisfying
amount of hookups with each of us beaching another salmon by day’s
end.

Sunday morning was dead, except for a couple of impressive creek chubs
by yours truly. Hours passed before the kid landed a nice steelie,
then another quiet period until the fish mojo landed on me. Wham, a
very nice steelie took me downriver before giving up (always nice to
get that first steelie), then we were all into salmon and steelhead.

The fish in the lower ffo were a good mix of old, tired skanky females
and an influx of beautiful, fresh fish with loads of power. You take
the bad with the good. Slower times for #1 son, and more steelhead
for Craig, but in the afternoon, I began a stretch of luck that
happens rarely. I say luck, because I know it wasn’t skill.

Roll casting out about 30’, I’d found what seemed to be a very
productive seam. I was getting hookups so regularly that I was good-
naturedly ****ing off the guys next to me. I was, for that brief
time, in the honey hole. Another nice steelie, a few big Chinooks
along with a spunky little jack, two nice cohos and I was ready to
knock off early once the action waned.

Monday morning started with a beautiful little (18”) brown that would
have been a trophy on most rivers. That gave me at least one of four
different species (not counting the chubs). I had hopes of maybe
completing a sweep with one of the Atlantic Salmon that were about,
but not this time; and Monday ended as the slowest day of the three.

All in all, we all caught fish, albeit with slower action and
generally less frequent highlights that past trips. Still, the river
was right, the Balvenie was smooth, and the company of friend and son
made the trip what it was meant to be.

Joe F.