This newly-arrived Chinook was fooled by a blue and black Bjorn
stinger prawn.
tinued to drop and clear, which further slowed the upstream
movements of fresh chinook. We still managed to catch some
chrome-sided fish on our initial passes through each pool,
albeit the ratio of takes to casts declined noticeably. The longer
waits between grabs had the unfortunate effect of increasing
the frequency of blown hookups, as my responses grew ever
more hair-trigger. I ended up having to take a serious chill
break, after failing to provide the all-so-important delays that
inevitably resulted in a maddening series of fruitless hook sets.
Resuming my recitation of “God Save The Queen and Prince
Charles!” before striking eventually rewarded me with the
satisfying sensation of a well-hooked chinook surging away,
attached to my bucking rod and whirring reel.
I alternated between fishing the slower, deep pools where
the adult kings were holding, and shallower runs that were
dominated by smaller jack chinook. The latter are sexually
mature, albeit precocious males that return to the river after
a brief marine sojourn, and thus do not attain the full size
achieved by the rest of their cohort (which will remain at sea
for as long as five years). They serve a crucial role as a form of
reproductive warranty, to ensure that the eggs of every female
salmon arriving on the spawning grounds will be fertilized.
These fish are eager biters, albeit shouts of initial glee often
turn into disappointed grumbles when the angler realizes that
he has hooked a “(insert expletive) jack”. As for me, I welcome
their ferocity and stubborn tenacity, and I rarely forego an op-
portunity to swing a fly in front of such mini-kings.
During the last two days of our trip, the guides decided to
focus fishing efforts on the lower beats, in the hopes of inter-
cepting newly arrived kings that were more willing to bite.
This proved to be a wise strategy — angling action improved,
and we were subsequently able to hook (and sometimes land)
a number of chrome-sided chinook with sea lice still attached
to their bodies.
I recall an arm-wrenching strike from a bright 35-pound
buck that ravenously attacked my pink Prawn, moments after
traveling angler
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