That’s one thing I’ve done a lot of. When I started out, fishing was free for anyone under 16 years old, and when I started to buy my fishing license, it was about 10 dollars, but like everything else, it’s not the same as it used to be. It kicks the hell out of a 100 bill. They’ve got a fee for everything you do these days. You can’t even park at a fishing hole anymore without paying a fee. It used to be, when you turned 70 you got to fish for free, and by God you should, but not anymore. Hell, I always figured, if I made it to 70, I’d be damn lucky. I’d deserve to get something for free.
But not in Washington.
If you have not been fishing, I suggest you try it. You can sit and fish and slow things down and just relax. Best therapy I know. If more people went fishing these days, they wouldn’t need psychologists. Even if you don’t catch a fish, it doesn’t really matter, because you got to relax and get away from it all.
I’ve fished just about everywhere in the Pacific Northwest and for just about everything.
I’ve been on a charter boat in the ocean and caught salmon and even a shark, a sand shark, and let it go. I’ve fished from shore and caught sea perch, sea crappie, and fished from a jetty and caught sea bass and pogie, crabs and clams, and oysters and butter clams. I especially like sea perch and crappie. It’s white meat. You can fillet it out and fry it up. It’s delicious.
I caught crawdads and even ate kelp and seaweed. I’ve fished for salmon and steel-head and sturgeon and walleye, and they’re all good eating, too. I’ve ate frog legs, and yes, they taste like chicken, but don’t watch them cook in a frying pan because they do jump around. Another good eating fish is catfish, but they’re harder to clean. You have to nail the head to a board and cut the skin behind the head, and with a pair of pliers, peel the skin back, then fillet the meat. It’s white meat, too.
When cooking fish, the fresher the better. I’ve caught a lot of other kinds of fish, too. Trout and land lock salmon. Kokanee put up a heck of a fight and are fun to fish for. Make sure, if you ever go fishing for tuna, research it a little because when cleaning tuna you need to cut the blood line out of the fish or it will taint the fish, but I’ve never had a better flavored smoked fish. I’ve even ate smoked smelt, years ago, and those you would smoke and eat the whole fish, head and all.
I’ve fished for crappie along log rafts with white jigs and caught gunnysacks full. White fillets that melt in your mouth. East of the mountains, in the high mountain lakes, the trout are bigger and broader because they been fattening up through the winter. I’ve fished for tiger muskie with steel leader, but never caught any. And, yes, I’ve fished for white for selling to the state but, personally, never caught enough to make any money.
Years ago, every once in a while, I would catch carp. Never ate it myself, but I had an aunt and uncle that just loved carp. They were from back east, so whenever I caught any carp, you know where it would go. I knew a guy that caught one over 6 feet long.
I think my favorite style, personally, is bobber fishing for trout and land lock salmon, cooking kokanee over an open fire or wrapped in tin foil. It’s time for you to go out and go fishing now!
—Randy Long
https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com
http://readadamnbookwithrfy.blogspot.com
https://schoolofmadnessastruth.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/richard.f.yates/
Showing posts with label fishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fishing. Show all posts
Saturday, August 19, 2017
“The Boy and the Stray Dog” by Randy Long
On a camping and fishing outing, years ago, well 20 to 25 years ago, we went to Riffe Lake, Washington. It was pretty secluded. No bathrooms. No running water or developed campgrounds, but the fishing was great. All the kokanee salmon you could eat. Salmon and potatoes over an open fire. The good ole’ days.
We were camping, by “we” I mean my three nephews, their father, and his stepchild. There was Rick. He wasn’t a fishing person, so he would bring a book and a box of cereal. Next was David. He seemed to like fishing and wasn’t bad at it. Next was Andy. He was a fishing fool. He would catch a fish just to cut it open. Then there was Joe. He really didn’t seem to like fishing at all, and he was a little shy. The adults were myself and the kids' father, Roy. We both liked fishing and camping.
Anyway, the first night we camped in an area above the lake at the far end. You could see the lake and still be within walking distance from it. The campground was down a road, up and around a corner, and through an open area where trees surrounded the whole campground. We all ate plenty of salmon that night, roasted marshmallows, laughed and had a good time.
Just before bed, I went out, away from the fire and down a trail, and stopped when I heard something in front of me in the brush, and about then heard a scream from a big cat, a cougar. I started walking backwards, towards the camp fire, got back to the fire, built it up, and felt safer. We all went to bed in our tents, and in the morning I woke up early, at day break, and didn’t want to wake anyone up, so I left and went walking down to the lake, across a bridge, and started fishing on the other side. About then, across the lake, a big buck deer came running out of the woods, paced back and forth, and jumped into the lake, swimming right towards me.
By the time the deer got about half way across, a cougar jumped out of the woods, paced back and forth, then sauntered back into the woods. The big buck was still swimming straight at me. I reeled my line in, and there I was, standing with a fishing pole in one hand and tackle in the other, and the big buck climbs out of the water, not caring whether I’m there or not, and I don’t blame it. If a cougar was on my butt, I wouldn’t care either. Anyway, it looked at me, and I looked at it. It went its way, and I went mine.
So I headed back to the campground and told everyone about my morning adventure. Next, we all went to the lake and fished with worms, shrimp, and corn, and we all caught our limit and went back to camp to eat breakfast.
Through the winter, it flooded in spots at the lake, though it was receding, and left little places where there was water standing, a couple feet deep and 30 to 40 feet across. Joe had found a stray black lab dog and was playing with him. Joe was about 12 or 13 years old. I couldn’t tell you how old the dog was. Joe was playing fetch with the dog, but the dog wasn’t fetching, Joe was, so I had to get in on it. I would throw a stick and tell the dog to get it. He wouldn’t, so Joe would. Well, sometimes the dog would, but most of the time Joe would, so it got real interesting and funny. I would throw the stick in the two foot deep water. The dog looked at me, and Joe got the stick. After doing this for about half an hour, we went back to camp. The stray dog came back with us, hung around for about an hour, and then left.
All in all, it was a great camping trip.
—Randy Long
https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com
http://readadamnbookwithrfy.blogspot.com
https://schoolofmadnessastruth.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/richard.f.yates/
We were camping, by “we” I mean my three nephews, their father, and his stepchild. There was Rick. He wasn’t a fishing person, so he would bring a book and a box of cereal. Next was David. He seemed to like fishing and wasn’t bad at it. Next was Andy. He was a fishing fool. He would catch a fish just to cut it open. Then there was Joe. He really didn’t seem to like fishing at all, and he was a little shy. The adults were myself and the kids' father, Roy. We both liked fishing and camping.
Anyway, the first night we camped in an area above the lake at the far end. You could see the lake and still be within walking distance from it. The campground was down a road, up and around a corner, and through an open area where trees surrounded the whole campground. We all ate plenty of salmon that night, roasted marshmallows, laughed and had a good time.
Just before bed, I went out, away from the fire and down a trail, and stopped when I heard something in front of me in the brush, and about then heard a scream from a big cat, a cougar. I started walking backwards, towards the camp fire, got back to the fire, built it up, and felt safer. We all went to bed in our tents, and in the morning I woke up early, at day break, and didn’t want to wake anyone up, so I left and went walking down to the lake, across a bridge, and started fishing on the other side. About then, across the lake, a big buck deer came running out of the woods, paced back and forth, and jumped into the lake, swimming right towards me.
By the time the deer got about half way across, a cougar jumped out of the woods, paced back and forth, then sauntered back into the woods. The big buck was still swimming straight at me. I reeled my line in, and there I was, standing with a fishing pole in one hand and tackle in the other, and the big buck climbs out of the water, not caring whether I’m there or not, and I don’t blame it. If a cougar was on my butt, I wouldn’t care either. Anyway, it looked at me, and I looked at it. It went its way, and I went mine.
So I headed back to the campground and told everyone about my morning adventure. Next, we all went to the lake and fished with worms, shrimp, and corn, and we all caught our limit and went back to camp to eat breakfast.
Through the winter, it flooded in spots at the lake, though it was receding, and left little places where there was water standing, a couple feet deep and 30 to 40 feet across. Joe had found a stray black lab dog and was playing with him. Joe was about 12 or 13 years old. I couldn’t tell you how old the dog was. Joe was playing fetch with the dog, but the dog wasn’t fetching, Joe was, so I had to get in on it. I would throw a stick and tell the dog to get it. He wouldn’t, so Joe would. Well, sometimes the dog would, but most of the time Joe would, so it got real interesting and funny. I would throw the stick in the two foot deep water. The dog looked at me, and Joe got the stick. After doing this for about half an hour, we went back to camp. The stray dog came back with us, hung around for about an hour, and then left.
All in all, it was a great camping trip.
—Randy Long
https://primitiveentertainment.wordpress.com
http://readadamnbookwithrfy.blogspot.com
https://schoolofmadnessastruth.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/richard.f.yates/
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