Pink Nighty
Life of the Party
A question I've learned to ask myself when fishing is "What if this works?" The first time I remember consciously asking that I was perched atop slick rocks 6 feet above a 30ft skagit hole plunking for spring chinook. If I hooked up, landing the fish would become secondary to surviving the encounter myself. Its saved me from a few stupid decisions, and helps me make a gameplan for when I'm solo fishing.
This is a time I forgot to ask that question. It is long winded and full of likely unnecessary context. This is likely an accurate description of myself.
In december I returned to my river with my baby on my back. A month bookended by devastating, record smashing floods had mercifully come to a close. The deck had been reshuffled and I soon learned that all of my runs have been displaced, filled, made inaccessible or otherwise rendered unfishable. We would be exploring today.
I choose a pullout I've pondered before but never taken. A modest bushwack down the trail reveals an expansive riverbank, maybe half a mile to the actual water. But on that water I catch a glimpse of what I'm looking for, a classic NF swing run.
For those unfamiliar with the NF sack, "classic" is a relative term. This girl hates to lay down, she runs hard and fast and frothy. Damn near always. So a classic run here is broken down like this.
60% of the run contains an ungodly fast current, entirely unfishable but will gladly ruin your swing if you cast across it. 30% of the run is stillwater, sometimes flowing upstream in response to the hellscape across the river. This water is also unswingable, even coming in hot to it will leave you snagged on the hang.
And then there is that 10%. Just off the fast water but before the slack. 3-6ft wide, 3-6ft deep of brisk walk/slow jog water. If you squint, you can convince yourself that this is the water those guys online have been talking about. If you close your eyes and imagine a different run on a different river, you might even be able to see a fish in it.
I slog through the still squilching flood mud with my rod in hand, 40 pounds of baby/gear on my back and reach the head of the run. Roughly 200 yards long, the best water lay in the top 50 yards. At about 75 yards down the run, a single log lay in the middle of the 10% water, pointing downstream with a decent rootwad at the upstream end.
I begin working the run. To get the swing I need to land the tip in the fast water, throw a big mend to line the head up along the seam and then lead it in to the slow water. I work down, getting through most of the best water without a bump when it hit.
Halfway through the swing the reel just exploded. I swear i heard the screech before I felt the grab. A green headed buck chum comes flying out of the water, 15 pounds of winters fury porpoising across the run. Its immediately clear to me that this is my largest, hottest fish I've ever swung. He is immediately in the heavy current and flying downstream. I hear the backing knot go, I'm not concerned, this reel is huge and has several hundred yards of fresh backing. I do realize it's time to follow this guy down as he will not be returning to me.
In my excitement I missed a critical bit of information. The chum had taken my fly and crossed back over the run, and headed down directly alongside the log with the rootwad. After taking 10 or so steps I realized my line was running through the roots and that I would not be able to walk down the run without clearing it. I'm scared to try and break it off, as the backing is rubbing across the branches and I fear it breaking there and not at the fly.
I wade towards the roots, reel screaming and baby on my back. I cannot go past my waist with the baby and I cannot find a shallow path to the log. I race back upstream, trying to find a wide enough angle to free my line so I can chase. Reel is getting precariously low on backing, fish was last seen jumping about 200 yards downstream but is still attached and still quite upset.
I cannot find the angle. I believe the line had eaten into a substantial root like a damn saw, as no amount of rod flailing was able to budge it.
I resign myself to losing the line and bring my palm to the reel. The instant I stop it, it flies off the reel seat and is yanked into the first guide. Unfortunately, on my 11'8 Echo Swing the first guide on the rod is attached to the second of 4 pieces. On contact with the reel the top 3 sections of my rod are yanked off the handle and fly at warp speed into and then through the rootwad. Never to be seen again. I stand there, handle in hand now much lighter. And I scream.
So many lessons on that day. Firstly, I didnt expect it to work. I've mostly caught bulls and smaller salmon swinging, fish that did not test my gear. Laziness on my part for not checking my reel connection often yet leaving it rigged for most of the season.
That log in hindsight was clearly a problem, but one that could be mitigated with some foresight. Had it been on my mind, simply keeping a high rod and carefully moving down would have allowed me to clear the roots and chase. It was in not analyzing the hazards beforehand that I allowed my adrenaline to overlook it in the moment.
My baby got to hear daddy yell some new words that day. But because echo is awesome (so awesome that they probably deserve their own post for their heroics here) I had a brand new rod at a HEFTY discount 4 days later. Truly cant say enough about them, fantastic customer service and clutch performance.
I'll open this to the floor, when have you been stupid while fishing? What did it cost you? What did you learn?
This is a time I forgot to ask that question. It is long winded and full of likely unnecessary context. This is likely an accurate description of myself.
In december I returned to my river with my baby on my back. A month bookended by devastating, record smashing floods had mercifully come to a close. The deck had been reshuffled and I soon learned that all of my runs have been displaced, filled, made inaccessible or otherwise rendered unfishable. We would be exploring today.
I choose a pullout I've pondered before but never taken. A modest bushwack down the trail reveals an expansive riverbank, maybe half a mile to the actual water. But on that water I catch a glimpse of what I'm looking for, a classic NF swing run.
For those unfamiliar with the NF sack, "classic" is a relative term. This girl hates to lay down, she runs hard and fast and frothy. Damn near always. So a classic run here is broken down like this.
60% of the run contains an ungodly fast current, entirely unfishable but will gladly ruin your swing if you cast across it. 30% of the run is stillwater, sometimes flowing upstream in response to the hellscape across the river. This water is also unswingable, even coming in hot to it will leave you snagged on the hang.
And then there is that 10%. Just off the fast water but before the slack. 3-6ft wide, 3-6ft deep of brisk walk/slow jog water. If you squint, you can convince yourself that this is the water those guys online have been talking about. If you close your eyes and imagine a different run on a different river, you might even be able to see a fish in it.
I slog through the still squilching flood mud with my rod in hand, 40 pounds of baby/gear on my back and reach the head of the run. Roughly 200 yards long, the best water lay in the top 50 yards. At about 75 yards down the run, a single log lay in the middle of the 10% water, pointing downstream with a decent rootwad at the upstream end.
I begin working the run. To get the swing I need to land the tip in the fast water, throw a big mend to line the head up along the seam and then lead it in to the slow water. I work down, getting through most of the best water without a bump when it hit.
Halfway through the swing the reel just exploded. I swear i heard the screech before I felt the grab. A green headed buck chum comes flying out of the water, 15 pounds of winters fury porpoising across the run. Its immediately clear to me that this is my largest, hottest fish I've ever swung. He is immediately in the heavy current and flying downstream. I hear the backing knot go, I'm not concerned, this reel is huge and has several hundred yards of fresh backing. I do realize it's time to follow this guy down as he will not be returning to me.
In my excitement I missed a critical bit of information. The chum had taken my fly and crossed back over the run, and headed down directly alongside the log with the rootwad. After taking 10 or so steps I realized my line was running through the roots and that I would not be able to walk down the run without clearing it. I'm scared to try and break it off, as the backing is rubbing across the branches and I fear it breaking there and not at the fly.
I wade towards the roots, reel screaming and baby on my back. I cannot go past my waist with the baby and I cannot find a shallow path to the log. I race back upstream, trying to find a wide enough angle to free my line so I can chase. Reel is getting precariously low on backing, fish was last seen jumping about 200 yards downstream but is still attached and still quite upset.
I cannot find the angle. I believe the line had eaten into a substantial root like a damn saw, as no amount of rod flailing was able to budge it.
I resign myself to losing the line and bring my palm to the reel. The instant I stop it, it flies off the reel seat and is yanked into the first guide. Unfortunately, on my 11'8 Echo Swing the first guide on the rod is attached to the second of 4 pieces. On contact with the reel the top 3 sections of my rod are yanked off the handle and fly at warp speed into and then through the rootwad. Never to be seen again. I stand there, handle in hand now much lighter. And I scream.
So many lessons on that day. Firstly, I didnt expect it to work. I've mostly caught bulls and smaller salmon swinging, fish that did not test my gear. Laziness on my part for not checking my reel connection often yet leaving it rigged for most of the season.
That log in hindsight was clearly a problem, but one that could be mitigated with some foresight. Had it been on my mind, simply keeping a high rod and carefully moving down would have allowed me to clear the roots and chase. It was in not analyzing the hazards beforehand that I allowed my adrenaline to overlook it in the moment.
My baby got to hear daddy yell some new words that day. But because echo is awesome (so awesome that they probably deserve their own post for their heroics here) I had a brand new rod at a HEFTY discount 4 days later. Truly cant say enough about them, fantastic customer service and clutch performance.
I'll open this to the floor, when have you been stupid while fishing? What did it cost you? What did you learn?
