Fishing
Scott Mclean
The blue sky we’ve started seeing the last few days has brought on memories of approaching spring when we were young.
The wildflowers have started to bloom but I didn’t learn to appreciate them until later in life. Opening day of fishing season was an important event. I know I’ve touched on this subject before but catch limits were very generous by today’s standards.
My favorite outdoor humorist, Pat McManus stated it as “All you can catch plus one fish.” With adult limits of 16 and youth limits of 8 it came close.
Opening day bore similarities to Christmas in that we didn’t sleep much the night before. You wanted to be first on the water even if you needed a lantern to see it! The day before was spent putting new line on reels and collecting worms, night crawlers, or grasshoppers.
For some reason we prized the red wing grasshoppers. I’m not sure if the fish agreed or not.
Some opening days, our dad or one of our uncles would haul us to a lake or stream away from home. Most openers we would ride our bikes to the dam on Cowiche Creek.
Riding with a pole, bait, and tackle box was an art form.
We always fished the dam and up the north fork or down the main creek first. That’s because the fishing in the lower canyon was preserved for us by the rattlesnakes. Sensible people did not want to associate with them!
We just used a worm or grasshopper. Spinners or rooster tails were for the farther away excursions.
We were lucky in that we had a fairly long stretch of creek that we had almost exclusive permission to fish. On a good day we would pedal home with a nice catch.
I was better about cleaning my catch than Steve. He somehow could always get Mom to clean his. He once brought a grouse to her that had been bouncing around the bed of his pickup uncleaned all day. When Mom started to clean it, the stench was so bad that we all ran outside for air.
Luckily he outgrew those tendencies.
In later years he loved fishing Manashtash lake as soon as you could get through the snowbanks and the ice was off of it.
The canal up the hill behind our house originally came from the Tieton River. When they shut it down in the fall, big Trout would be trapped in the pools. We had neighbors that would drive the canal bank and shoot next to the trout. Concussion would stun or kill them so they could be gathered. This was dangerous and we did not do it.
I know, I know, you’re not used to Steve and I avoiding stupid or dangerous activities.
We tried to get up there before them and used fishing rods and reels. It was always a contest no matter where we went to see who caught the most or the biggest fish. I would gladly concede victory to fish another time with my little brother.
Hopefully some day I will.
Later.