The first catch was me

"I'm going out to fish," Simon Peter told them, and they said, "We'll go with you." So they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. John 21:3

The big hole on the Necanicum river was mysterious , the Black rocks, the forest canopy and the Depth of the water all conspired to hide what ever lurked below the water . while I would see the fish coming and going into the " hole " I can never think of a time I saw any fish in it . The current seemed to cut through the middle of the wide spot . The water that lapped at my feet gently tugged my boots . Further out the water rushed by. A cast into the current would swing the lure in a wide arc in a matter of seconds . Past the current , hugging the stone walls opposite me was an eddy . nothing moved in this place . Iif the Fishing hole seemed dark and mysterious , this eddy was even more so . Once i hooked a beaver, at least I thought it was a beaver in the tail in this area almost breaking my pole before I wisely cut the line. Nothing moved in the Eddy . Scum formed on top of it . It was a dead spot in a living river .

I cannot recall ever taking a fish from this " big hole" . Stubbornly I kept returning ..and while I wasn't claiming any catch ..I was learning I was becoming more familiar with the river , and the fish that called it home. It has been said that a Fisherman will forget the fish He has caught but not the place He caught them . And then again I have heard some fisherman relate stories of fish that dwarfed the place they were caught in . But its fair to say my early fishing years helped to conserve the native runs .

It was here on the river bank , alone lulled into a meditative peace by the sound of the water scratching the rocks . The smell of fir and cedar . Dark rocks and brilliant mosses. That i began to think of One who made this all. And then just as quickly I would be pulling my spinner out of the water , snapping the tough line off in my teeth and , looking into my tackle box for another lure, one that would bring that first strike . I would wrestle with God in due time , now was the time to improve my cast .

I now know I was working the water the wrong way . MY " Instincts " told me the deeper the water the bigger the fish. I did not realize that in the Depths the fish were resting , there would be very few strikes in these deep pools , the tail of the rapids and the mouth of the overflow was were I should have been . that knowledge came later .

I would have definitely loved to land a large fish , to struggle with it and be victorious , to carry the fresh caught animal back to the cabin and there receive a hunters welcome . But I took what the river gave me , a surprise visit by an otter , a great blue heron watching me across the way. A shinny bit of agate .

we would occasionally have visitors , friends of my father or even Jim the Park warden come over for dinner , and I would sit an listen to their stories of fishing and hunting , soaking up as much as I possibly could ..I was beginning to realize that the more information I had about the fish the better fisherman I would be.

I started to read as much as I could about the fish here . And about fishing . first there were children's books about fish , but with those soon exhausted I sought the adult shelves in the Library .

Soon my favourite Author was a British Columbia Fly fisherman by the name of Roderick Haig Brown. The first book of His I read was called " a river never sleeps " . written in 1946 it is a Hymn to Fly fishing for Salmon , and Steelhead. For me fly fishing was not practical The streams on the Coast are framed by trees the only way a proper cast could be made with a fly pole would be to place yourself in the middle of the river , not always practical for a seven year old boy and definitely not something His mother would want to encourage . The books contained a lot of information on Habitat and behaviour that I would make use of After that came others till I had read His entire collection of works . I spent my money on a subscription to Field and stream . There was a Sporting good store on the way to my Hay fever doctor and I would spend as much time as I could there , looking over lures , listening to salesmen , eves dropping on stories told around the sales counter. When we were on the Coast I took every opportunity to investigate and pry into the secrets of all who carried a rod and reel and who would let me within earshot .

. It didn't take very long for me to decide I wanted to be a Professional fisherman and live out my life pipe in mouth fishing vest filled with home made flies , chasing Steelhead as they took out 200 yards of line in a mad dash for freedom .

The three major types of fish included the Steelhead . the Salmon and the Trout .

 

 

Steelhead were the most prized . Difficult to catch , strong from years of swimming in the Ocean , Steelhead would average about 12-20 lbs . The largest Steelhead caught in Oregon weighed 38 pounds . There are several varieties of Salmon but the two most prolific are the King Salmon and the Silver Salmon King Salmon average about 25-35 pounds and the record was 83 pounds . Silver Salmon also known as Coho salmon are smaller From 7 -15 pounds . IN addition to these fish the rivers are filled with Native Cutthroat trout and a distant cousin the Ocean bay cutthroat trout . These fish will be from 1 to 3 lbs in size .

During this period of " book knowledge " about my quest . the cabin on Highway 26 became no longer available to us ...I suspect it sold. Mom and Dad had been able to live in it rent free ...and we were now Oregon Coast homeless ... My fathers friend Jim Webb , a park ranger at Saddle Mountain , had located this place for us , and He came up with a new home for us to use .

This home was much bigger , a two story farmhouse , on Highway 53 7.5 miles from the Necanicum Junction . This place was the one I remember best , it was from here I Caught my first fish ...and began my fishing career in earnest .


Photo Credits :

Lower Necanicum River
Cutthroat Trout
Silver Salmon ( Coho )
Steelhead
King Salmon