bright yarn and florescent stuff

Growing up in Chilliwack..........1952

Every fisherman can remember their First Steelhead..... like where were you when Canada beat Russia in 1972......We were in Charlie Smith's bike shop.....umm, no..not then, when I was 14 in the bike shop....what a way to start writing this....anyway....Charlie told Terry Valjean and I we had to learn how to fish properly.... We had been riding our bikes out to the Vedder River and harassing the Pink Salmon and the Chums.....kids......what are ya gonna do....enough snagging humpies, you guys need some guidance.....meet me here in the morning at 6.......bring a lunch....I will bring you back here and let you off at the end of the day.....Hey.... what a deal...so it came to pass....that Fall and Winter , Charlie took us fishing many times.....I was with him in October and caught my first Coho....one warm sunny day at a place we called the Cooper run, Charlie had come across a fresh dead Sockeye, he cut the roe out of it making ooew and awwing noises how this was really great bait.....and it was, for me...I thread tied a small chunk on my hook , cast it upriver , and right off the bat my bobber dived with a 7 pound buck twisting on the end of my line....that was my first Coho...he said I was the kingfisher that day....O ya....I felt like one....it was miracle to take a fish on that bright morning in that super low water.....He would pile three and four of us in the back of his little Thames truck...usually his good friend, Bob Carruthers was in the front seat with him. December came...there was a few Steelhead showing up at the B. C. Electric Bridge at Yarrow....at six in the morning December seventh three of us kids pile in the back of that little panel truck and we head to that area......there were lots of fishermen out, every run was covered....we were working our way down towards the bridge and split up.......I was with Bob Carruthers and Terry Valjean and Jim Willis were with Charlie, walking down below us.......I was directly under the bridge on the south side....Fishers had just walked out of the first spot at the bridge....a good looking hole right behind the structure. It was a short cast to the bridge abutment, the river flowed past it forming pocket and ripple , the water was fairly deep......I happened to glance down and there on the gravel were three large bright red colored salmon eggs...I had never seen that bright a color before.....someone had dropped them from a jar of fancy single eggs............hmmm, there must be some Americans fishing...I could remember reading about bright yarn and florescent stuff in Field and Stream magazine .... that's the only place something like that would come from.......wow, they looked good to me....I impaled two of them on my bait hook, lengthened my depth .....and flipped it out behind the abutment.....the riffle grabbed my bobber, drifted it about 4 feet then slowly it buried in the water......my gawd , wake up........hit it stupid.....reaction finally took over...I hit it ....something alive had my bait...oh gawd bless America, it gave a couple of headshakes (man, I can still feel that 50 years later) then up to the top.....there was bright silver in that boil......o man......I yelled at Charlie.....he turned , looked back and waved....o man......I want this fish so bad....why does he pull like that....don't come off, please don't come off.....this piddly little line is all I have connected to you.....I wish it was a rope...a cable ...a gillnet....easy.....don't panic......buck fever...don't do something stupid Gary...please don't come off........All the time I was getting encouragement from Bob Carruthers...I don't think I heard him....but I was glad he was there when I got the Steely's head on the bar and he expertly put his foot under the fish and flipped it well up on to the beach.........I pounced on it....that bugger was mine......I was in the club.....what a day.....I tried to calm down.... woah...a beautiful 10 pound buck Steelhead. I spent a lot of the rest of the day going back and forth where the fish lay just yappin and lookin. I think I was driving Bob nuts....Charlie also took a fish that day and that was his first of the season.....Us old pros felt good......We are back at the store about three o'clock....It is a nice December day and I have to walk home , my bike had a flat.......I did not mind.......I was proud as punch dragging that critter 3/4 mile home to Yale and Broadway....horns honked.....Roy Gleig came out of his house to congratulate me and reminisce about his first Steelhead.Dad always made a point of thanking Charlie for taking me fishing and teaching us to fish the Vedder River properly.....and over the years I thanked him many times and we often talked about that day......

A Chilliwack Daydream

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Daydream of an August day in old Chilliwack.

I have been very lazy with the blog...but last night I got an idea to write this while sitting at a light in the west area of Chilliwack. It occurred to me it was a very nice winter evening ...not raining and about 8 degrees Celsius ( that's approx. 46 F) and that is very acceptable ...what is maybe a little less acceptable is the snarly traffic we have in our once little town......it seems like yesterday that the spot I am am sitting at was a soggy hop field and would be covered in barren posts and wires for many acres around at this time of year......what I mean by hops are like... hops....the little buddy plants that go in to the making of that fine beverage - beer.....this area was covered in hundreds af acres of em......people came from far and wide to pick hops ......the local first nations had rows of small cabins that were used to house them in hop picking season..I think where I am waiting at this light is on the very spot.....many transient people were attracted....a lot of wives and children took to this part time summer work.....most of us kids picked hops at one time or another....how much we made was entirely dependent on how much we goofed off.... the days were long ...mums lunches were good .....and riding my bike out to the fields at 5 am on an August morning is memorable....we got five cents a lb at that time....A really good picker (not us) could make 5 dollars for about a 10 hour day......you pick em off vines into huge baskets and it takes a whopping lot of them to make a pound......a buck or a buck and a half was about our speed.....they left your hands stained and you smelled hoppy......I guess that I am thinking like that was 1950....ooow....that's a long time a go...I hate when that happens.

I think I wrote something about this about 200 posts ago.....it seems familiar as I read it over....oh well...a senior moment I reckon.

fixer upper

skyhi

gag and a cupple photoshop

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our busy library

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Ol' Fishin Hole