Yesterday I had the good fortune to take my best friend, his son (6) and my daughter (7) up on the skagit to fish for pinks and coho. This friend of mine has been my best friend and fishing buddy since I was 5 years old. We learned to fish drowning worms for cutts in a little creek near our house, and his dad taught us more about success in the field than any other mentor I've had.
My buddy doesnt fly fish, but loaded up on twitching jigs and spinners and we hit the road. Numerous stops later, because we're only marginally prepared fathers, we got to the river and wadered up. I'd brought my daughters pink 5wt with a skagit setup, and his son had a zebco special with w red and white bobber from bluegill fishing. Skagit setup got a pink comet and the zebco got a 1/16 jig and pink worm. My buddy twitched jigs and I stripped a chartreuse/pink jiggy thing I had tied.
F'n fish everywhere. Quad hookups, kids hooking and fighting their own pinks, dads trying to break their fish off to help the kids land theirs. A solid hour of pure chaos and laughter and shaking hands. Truly one of the best fishing and catching experiences ever. Heres my daughter, having single speyed her way into yet another humpty hump.
And my buddy's boy, holding one of his many slime rockets.
After an hour, maybe 90 minutes, my buddy's son throws a beauty of a cast just as his dad hooks up next to him. The combo threw his balance off and all of a sudden hes neck deep splashing, waders fully submerged.
We all scramble out. His dad is stripping him down, me and my daughter are gathering any clothes weve taken off so he can use them. Hes screaming he wants to go home, and of course that's what we are going to do but its gonna be a minute to get back to the car.
He gets his dry sweater on, and his dad says were gonna get the stuff together and get going. He immediately starts screaming again, but this time its "NOOOOOO I DONT WANNA LEAVE!! THERES TOO MANY HUMPIES DADDY!! WAY TOO MANY HUMPIES!!!" I run back to the car and grab his rain boots, still thinking were gonna leave but he needs them to walk out.
I get back down to the river and they've made their way to our little basecamp on the logs. The kid is adamant hes not going anywhere. Hes in his underwear, a sweater and rain boots and he wants his dad to catch a coho so they can take it home.
I look my buddy in the eye, tell him we are entirely on his discretion and that I've never been more proud of his abilities as a father.
We leave the slow water of humpapalooza 2023 and start working a classic swinging run downstream that we can see coho busting in, and that I'd pulled a native out of the previous week. I'm swinging sparkly chartreuse and ostrich thingy, my buddy throwing a brass and red spinner. He quickly picks up a bull, cutt and whitey and is stoked. I'm getting hit by the same small fish but no sticks. The kids have moved on to finding golf balls hit from the campground across the river, and picked up 37 tokens of the litterers ignorance. The rain, which had been sputtering all day, began to become a steady drizzle.
I'm working through first, and right as I'm coming to a hang down the rod jerks, the reel spins and I set. Head shake, I yell fish!! and it boils and spits. Didnt feel like a pink to me, but nobody home.
A few casts later as I'm about to turn the corner on the swing the reel just explodes. Big scream downstream, turns around and heads up, leaps out of the water and is 8lbs of chrome pissed off coho. I let out a hoot that turns into a groan as my fly comes loose and snaps towards me. An absolute unit of a grab, one that I'll never forget.
Two minutes later and my buddy is into a bright coho himself, jumping all over and giving him fits. He works it in to find it has its fin, much to the chagrin of his son. His son works the camera for his dad and off she swam.
The rain by now was coming down hard, and everybody is now as wet as the 6 year old. The kids insist on more fish and golf balls so my buddy and I kept fishing, hooking and losing another handful of fish apiece. Eventually he and I were too wet, it was 4pm and we had a 90 minute drive home. We packed up and hauled out, promising the earliest possible stop for hot chocolate.
I do a lot of fishing, and I take my kids with me whenever appropriate for them and sometimes when it's not. But this particular day is going to be etched in my mind forever. Seeing those two kids go as hard as their dads could handle was like looking into a portal to 25 years ago. It was he and I at 8 years old strapping poles to our handle bars to bike to a creek, which we would wet wade and swim for miles in a day. It was begging my dad not to go in from the duck blind when its sleeting sideways. It was your first taste of hypothermia when you forgot your rain slick in the truck, and didnt realize it til the heavens open up a mile downstream from your drift boat launch on a 35° february day.
I was completely blown away by their attitude and desire to continue. Those two kids that day were everything I love about the PNW, and for a minute i felt like this place was in good hands. As we packed out, I got to take this picture that may be my favorite I've ever taken.
My buddy doesnt fly fish, but loaded up on twitching jigs and spinners and we hit the road. Numerous stops later, because we're only marginally prepared fathers, we got to the river and wadered up. I'd brought my daughters pink 5wt with a skagit setup, and his son had a zebco special with w red and white bobber from bluegill fishing. Skagit setup got a pink comet and the zebco got a 1/16 jig and pink worm. My buddy twitched jigs and I stripped a chartreuse/pink jiggy thing I had tied.
F'n fish everywhere. Quad hookups, kids hooking and fighting their own pinks, dads trying to break their fish off to help the kids land theirs. A solid hour of pure chaos and laughter and shaking hands. Truly one of the best fishing and catching experiences ever. Heres my daughter, having single speyed her way into yet another humpty hump.
And my buddy's boy, holding one of his many slime rockets.
After an hour, maybe 90 minutes, my buddy's son throws a beauty of a cast just as his dad hooks up next to him. The combo threw his balance off and all of a sudden hes neck deep splashing, waders fully submerged.
We all scramble out. His dad is stripping him down, me and my daughter are gathering any clothes weve taken off so he can use them. Hes screaming he wants to go home, and of course that's what we are going to do but its gonna be a minute to get back to the car.
He gets his dry sweater on, and his dad says were gonna get the stuff together and get going. He immediately starts screaming again, but this time its "NOOOOOO I DONT WANNA LEAVE!! THERES TOO MANY HUMPIES DADDY!! WAY TOO MANY HUMPIES!!!" I run back to the car and grab his rain boots, still thinking were gonna leave but he needs them to walk out.
I get back down to the river and they've made their way to our little basecamp on the logs. The kid is adamant hes not going anywhere. Hes in his underwear, a sweater and rain boots and he wants his dad to catch a coho so they can take it home.
I look my buddy in the eye, tell him we are entirely on his discretion and that I've never been more proud of his abilities as a father.
We leave the slow water of humpapalooza 2023 and start working a classic swinging run downstream that we can see coho busting in, and that I'd pulled a native out of the previous week. I'm swinging sparkly chartreuse and ostrich thingy, my buddy throwing a brass and red spinner. He quickly picks up a bull, cutt and whitey and is stoked. I'm getting hit by the same small fish but no sticks. The kids have moved on to finding golf balls hit from the campground across the river, and picked up 37 tokens of the litterers ignorance. The rain, which had been sputtering all day, began to become a steady drizzle.
I'm working through first, and right as I'm coming to a hang down the rod jerks, the reel spins and I set. Head shake, I yell fish!! and it boils and spits. Didnt feel like a pink to me, but nobody home.
A few casts later as I'm about to turn the corner on the swing the reel just explodes. Big scream downstream, turns around and heads up, leaps out of the water and is 8lbs of chrome pissed off coho. I let out a hoot that turns into a groan as my fly comes loose and snaps towards me. An absolute unit of a grab, one that I'll never forget.
Two minutes later and my buddy is into a bright coho himself, jumping all over and giving him fits. He works it in to find it has its fin, much to the chagrin of his son. His son works the camera for his dad and off she swam.
The rain by now was coming down hard, and everybody is now as wet as the 6 year old. The kids insist on more fish and golf balls so my buddy and I kept fishing, hooking and losing another handful of fish apiece. Eventually he and I were too wet, it was 4pm and we had a 90 minute drive home. We packed up and hauled out, promising the earliest possible stop for hot chocolate.
I do a lot of fishing, and I take my kids with me whenever appropriate for them and sometimes when it's not. But this particular day is going to be etched in my mind forever. Seeing those two kids go as hard as their dads could handle was like looking into a portal to 25 years ago. It was he and I at 8 years old strapping poles to our handle bars to bike to a creek, which we would wet wade and swim for miles in a day. It was begging my dad not to go in from the duck blind when its sleeting sideways. It was your first taste of hypothermia when you forgot your rain slick in the truck, and didnt realize it til the heavens open up a mile downstream from your drift boat launch on a 35° february day.
I was completely blown away by their attitude and desire to continue. Those two kids that day were everything I love about the PNW, and for a minute i felt like this place was in good hands. As we packed out, I got to take this picture that may be my favorite I've ever taken.
