a day spent chasing reds turned out to be more of a snipe hunt; only a few in the Russian (didn't know they didn't get the second run there), a few more down at the confluence but we only connected once and it broke off right away
hanging a left and turning south didn't yield much more than some photo ops
a bunch of spawning kings here but reds were conspicuous by their absence
end of the highway
spent an hour at the Fishin' Hole on the Spit; had the end of the line to ourselves until the tide shifted then were joined by the bait-slingers who proceeded to catch silvers all around us while we tasted skunk. At this juncture, a new unit of measurement was determined - a Homer, or the distance between you and the guy (or gal) standing next to you (approximately the width of the 15lb tippet we were using); at least they were all friendly
next day we finally got in to the reds; all it took was a 5-shot slinky rig lobbed 10' from shore (this one's a little guy compared to some of the fish being caught); we kept a couple and ate them later that afternoon
time to hit the surf, fishing interrupted momentarily by a 6.3 earthquake (another first for my partners); the pinks were very obliging and we spent the better part of 3 days chasing them up and down the beach, adding a couple silvers on the last night; also the first place I've ever seen catch-and-release snagging in action; a confusing concept
great evening and the trip ended they way we hope they all do
fish were up, the light was brighter
and things came more clearly into focus
before the day was over
Regards,
Scott
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