Flotsam & Jetsam: Fish All Species

–a  semi-regular humor column by Maurice Austin —

Alas, we anglers have come to the point that the days of tossing a hook into local rivers and marine areas hoping to catch a salmon or steelhead may come to a halt. Well, we always knew the WDFW was trying to turn us into golfers, no? Have hope, ye who read here, for your angling lifestyle need not suffer unduly despite this season’s total ban on saltwater and freshwater salmon fishing opportunities across Puget Sound.

First and foremost, Love the Ling. They’re easy to catch, and though ugly (“bucket mouth” is an apt nickname) grill up quite nicely. Sure sure, the season is only 45 days, but those who aren’t working 12-hour shifts stand a chance to catch one after work, tides permitting. Cabezon are also worth pursuing–and they grill better, too. Look at the regs, wouldja? And know what you’re fishing for.

But so much for the salt, unless you’re interested in setting pots, which is a bit like fishing, but not much. It’s more like collecting groceries–and whether crab or shrimp, those are the tastiest groceries the great Grocer-in-the-Sky has allotted us mere mortals. If your pockets are deep, this might be the year to ditch those electric down riggers for a decent line-puller, as we’ve been forced, it seems, to become mere bottom-feeders. Or feeders-upon-bottom feeders, if you will.

Hock that salmon/steelhead rod/reel combo for a trout stick, and ditch the meticulously-cured chinook eggs for a jar of Pautzke’s or cheddar marshmallows, and hit the local lake. Sure, those planter trout taste like the partially-decomposed chemically-processed haddock they’ve been reared on, but some give a bit of a wiggle on the line before floating belly-up in the 68-degree water of the local drop-and-take fishery pond, so lighten your line and lower your expectations a species or three, and it will seem like worth doing. BBQ up some planters with a bunch of alder twigs and serve both–who can tell the difference?

But if you’re really committed to the grill, pop by a main road along a major river, and purchase a salmon from a tribal member permitted to sell you a chunk of fish under a “ceremonial” or “subsistence” permit. Bring a bag of ice to keep it fresh while you peruse the follies at the casino. Try the Skagit or the Nooksack–both tribes are currently netting federally-protected ESA wild chinook, which taste great no matter how many days they spend in the cooler in the back of the pickup of the tribal “ceremonial” or “substance” fisherman. Or just visit your local fish shop along Hwy 20. Same meat.

If you have unused spools of #18-test Maxima laying about, consider taking up the construction and deployment of gigantic kites, which can be deployed in steelhead-fishery-like conditions of rain and hard winds and snow and cold, and enjoy. A well-constructed kite can peel line off the reel nearly as fast as a 12# native–and you might actually get the kite back, after all. Provides great fun on a trout rod–like fishing in the sky, angling in the air. Perhaps pick up some hotdogs for the grill later, since mylar and balsa tend to much muck up the works.

Should the fishing prohibitions nevertheless get you down, and your travel budget doesn’t allow a trip to more fertile fields, know that a piece of well-cured corn, delicately cast on a 6x tippet among a group of chickens, with a slow strip, can provide enjoyment, if not solace.

Myself, might take up angling for the local deer, given their penchant for my oregano, sage, and basil. If you have tips for suitably attaching 150#-test line to a sprig of herb, let me know, wouldja?

If I don’t get back to you immediately, it’s because I’m walking the river banks, watching fish, and not fishing…or because I’m glued to my computer screen, every finger crossed, hoping that the latest last-ditch negotiation might reach fruition. Others are, too.

Hope, after all, reigns eternal among anglers alike.