It’s 1:30 p.m. Perfect, sunny, warm, early October Monday afternoon, following a classically cool morning until the sun emerged over the river. Thousands of miles, figuratively, from the home office. Cell phone with zero battery power, so no distractions, to be recharged in the car in about an hour. Light breeze. Good company. Competent and pleasant river guide. Solid, comfortable boat. But, no fish. Not even a bite. Yes, we’re a little late, the short peak season for Chinook King Salmon on the northern Sacramento River ending about two weeks ago, but, still, where are the fish? Are we really going to go home with nothing, a goose egg, besides a small Sacramento pikeminnow (squawfish), caught on a spinning rod? Will the highlight of this trip be a fabulous dinner at Cattlemen’s Steakhouse in Redding? Should I have just focused my efforts on the koi pond at the Hampton Inn in Red Bluff, our base for this short fishing expedition?
Then, suddenly, a bite, a big one. Not the steady tug of the lure against the constant flow of the wide and strong river, but one from a powerful and beautiful salmon, silver, likely 16 pounds, not feeding, as the season has passed, but still attracted enough to our lure to investigate and sample it. From there, picture a minute or so of tugging and reeling in the catch, certainly not the marlin from The Old Man and the Sea, but still substantial, from a fish that at one point had ventured into the frigid Pacific before returning upstream through San Francisco Bay, the Sacramento delta, continuing further up river, past rich riparian vegetation – sycamores, cottonwoods, willows, valley oaks, a variety of shrubs – and perhaps even farther north, toward Mount Shasta, the source of the river, before returning to our spot, just north of the Jellys Ferry bridge. Shortly, our guide netted the salmon. Success!
Most groups catch 2-6 salmon. California fishing regulations permit two salmon per person. Once in a while, a group catches nothing. Another group caught two, south of the bridge, near us, by 10 a.m. Go figure. We had been on the river since 7 a.m. and had tried a number of spots, in relatively still water, in strong currents in the middle of the river, and in between. Fishing wild salmon is hard, and, of course, fishing is not catching. A good guide is necessary, but not sufficient. Luck, being at the right place at the right time, is more important than you would think, if not critical. The tools of the trade (https://johnpavolotsky.com/2021/09/18/tools-of-the-trade/) are as important in fishing as in any other activity; selecting the right bait, tackle, lure, line depth, and location is critical, but again, not sufficient. Sure, I am anything but a skilled fisherman, but I was as focused on my line, soon developed a good feel for the natural tug of the current, and, besides, our guide had no better success than me. Other rivers and bodies of water might have yielded more fish, but quality is more important than quantity (or so I have convinced myself). The beauty of the river, clear in more shallow water, pyrite (fool’s gold) on the sandy bottom, blue-green in deeper spots, with the ranch lands and federal (Bureau of Land Management) land on the western and eastern shores, respectively, Mount Lassen visible to the southeast, beavers, bears, mountain lions, and hogs on the land and eagles and vultures gliding above the river, are no accident; sensible laws, and an ethos of conservation and respect for the land and water, are responsible for the current state. We need to appreciate and safeguard this for future generations.
What if we had not caught that salmon? Would the trip have been a failure? The answer, of course, depends on the goals of the trip. Were they to provide an opportunity for inter-generational bonding, to enjoy the river, to unplug, etc.? Personally, I think I would have been fine without the catch, but it did make the trip that much more memorable and meaningful.
Comments welcomed.
The Peninsula Hiking Club 