Six Large Stuffed Tigers

N 60°29'02"
W 149°59'31"

About 36 hours ago, I was nothing short of convinced that this whole Salmon run/fly fishing frenzy wasn't for me (that and it cost $150 for a season fishing license). Everyday at work people gasp at the thought of being here on the Russian River and not fishing especially while the salmon are running the gauntlet upstream to spawn before one of natures great mass suicides.

Fly fishing is nothing like any other type of fishing. In the land of no natural lakes, Georgia, you typically get used to simple bait and bobber, sit/wait fishing usually with beer. Here there is still beer, it is just more expensive. But the whole concept of fishing is just mind boggling. You suit up for the worst (mostly in terms of moisture) with waders and polarized sun-glasses being the most important parts other than the obvious rod and reel. But you wade into the river looking for fish (usually in a continuous fish interstate highway or the less popular schools or waves of fish), and you position your along side the fish. You don't want to be too close otherwise the fish will scatter like roaches under fresh light. But you cast a couple of yards up stream of the fish who swim with there months open, and you wait for that bright colored fly to dift downstream until it getsjust past the one you want then give the line a little jerk. If you are good, you will pop that fly into the fishes mouth and hold on for a fight. If you are alittle rusty, you will "snag" the fish on the belly, fin or tail. Those you have to throw back. But the weirdest concept for me before I started fishing was that the fish do not bite your fly. You play this kind of twisted nature carnival game (the ones where you pay a dollar for 3 rings and you have to get those rings around the top of a glass soda pop bottle to win the large stuffed tiger, and $20 later, your pride is broken and you are tiger-less). The whole idea of paying for such an experience sounded bitter-sweet at best, but I wanted those damn tigers.

So two nights ago I was laying in bed preparing to sleep in for my day off, and I came to the realization that it may be a very long time before I return if at all. After much debate, I decided to go semi "all-out" and bought a week long fishing license first thing the next morning. This was just before 9am. I got back to camp and geared up immediately with a couple of guys who work here (Ryan, Wisconsin and Joey, Mississippi). We headed down to the river at 9:30am. The limit of salmon caught per person per day is 6 fish. By 11:30am, all three of us each caught our limit of 6. We acquired a sturdy piece of dry driftwood, haphazardly secured the fish to it and began the rather long trek to camp, proudly displaying our limp trophy carcasses.

Once arriving to camp, our bosses informed us that we neglected to clean the fish in the river. Rookie mistake... and possibly your last if bear stumbles onto an easy meal. So we caught a ride down to the river, gutted/cleaned the fish, returned to camp where I learned how to fillet a fish. Yesterday was swell.