Two for One

“You haven’t lived until you’ve hooked into a 30 pound salmon.”  That’s what my best friend, John, used to tell me during college in the late 70s.  Over and over, he would regale me with stories of catching salmon. He guaranteed me that if I ever came to visit his home in Washington State, he would make it his personal goal that I catch a salmon.

So, in the summer of 1978, with visions of reeling in salmon after salmon, I flew up from California to his home in Tacoma, Washington. John’s older brother, Dave, a licensed commercial fisherman would guide us on this adventure. So, off we went, the three of us driving to Neah Bay, a fishing village at the most Northwest corner of Washington State in an old beat up Chevy van pulling a 21 foot boat. Yes, a water skiing boat with a single outboard motor!

We slept in the van parked next to the docks ready to go at first light. After a few hours, waiting for the pea soup thick fog to burn off, we pushed off from the dock to begin our quest for salmon.  Off we went, following the much larger fishing boats in our 21 foot ski boat, all to the stares and catcalls of those bigger fishing vessels. One commercial ship even called us on the radio to ask if we had completely lost our minds.

Once out of harbor, we met the Pacific ocean during one of the rarest of days in the great Northwest—perfect clear blue skies and near flat glass seas. It was so warm; we stripped down to our underwear to take advantage of the sun’s rays. Euphoric with youth and excitement, we started singing along with the one and only cassette we had on board, “Dean Martin’s Greatest Hits.”  To this day, I still know every word of “Everybody Loves Somebody.”

Then our good luck turned bad. We weren’t catching a thing. Not even a bite. We went from one favorite salmon spot to another and nothing! Hour after hour, stop after stop, I didn’t even see a salmon.  Dejected, we headed back, when Dave decided last minute to stop at a spot known for good bottom fishing. At least we might catch something. As soon as our bait hit the ocean bottom, we all started catching fish. Lots of fish. It was fantastic. It seemed there wasn’t a time when at least one of us wasn’t yelling “fish on” and reeling in bottom fish, mostly sea bass or rockfish. My arms were getting sore.

At one point, John hooked a fish and after reeling for a short time, announced, “It’s just a small one” only to see his pole bend way over again and his fishing line take off again in a mad blur of spitting water and noise. John was a strong guy. He played on the football team and this fish took him to his physical limits. With his pole nearly bent in half, John held on, both arms straining for what seemed an eternity. Eventually he began to slowly reel in this monster. What kind of fish was this we wondered? After about 40 minutes of epic struggle, John got his catch to the side of the boat and the mystery was solved. He had hooked an 8 pound Rockfish and while reeling it in, a large 28 pound Ling Cod decided he wanted lunch and grabbed on to the smaller fish.  The Ling Cod wasn’t hooked at all, but refused to let go.  John had caught two fish with one hook! We quickly gaffed the Ling Cod and hauled both fish into the boat. It was a comical sight as that Ling Cod flopped all over the boat while we hopped up and down in our underwear trying not to get bit.

Exhausted and happy, we headed back to Neah Bay only to have the motor break. The Coast Guard had to tow us. They weren’t too happy with us. It was a wild, crazy trip that I will never forget.  And, to this day, I still have never caught a salmon.

-Luke Howard