Janelle was quite excited at the prospect, but unfortunately had to work. That did not stop her from recommending which set of waders and boots for me to get. We also bought a set of hip boots (which were not as helpful) for Trevor and a new cooler as Janelle did not want any of our other coolers to smell of fish. Our next step was to get fishing licenses for Trevor and myself, as well as a permit for dipnetting.
I found the experience to more difficult than I expected. The drag of the current made it a struggle to keep the net upright, and my arms and legs feel tired and worn after just about three hours out there. Meanwhile, the mucky river bottom made standing difficult and walking even more so.
The fish weren’t really running when we were there. There was a false alarm when Connor thought he got a fish, but it turned out that his friend was messing with him. About an hour in, a fish hit my net. In short, I panicked. I tried lifting the net out of the water and only succeeded in bending the handle of my friend’s net. My friend told me to press the net down against the river bottom and start walking in. ... I fell, my boots not wanting to lift from the suction in the muck. I stood, hoping the fish was still in, and tried moving back again, only to fall in a second time, losing the fish.
Considering the lack of hits, I was concerned that I had just let our only fish get away. I bent the handle back into shape and went out again. About fifteen minutes later, I caught another fish; the hit was hard enough to snap the handle. This time, I drew the pole closer to me and moved out of the river slowly. My friend clubbed in, removed it from the net, and bled it.
I ended up using the net Trevor had been using when he decided to take a break—this was after about twenty minutes of using the smaller net Connor had been using when he decided to call it quits. I got another hit almost immediately—at that point the man next to me, who had been there longer than us without catching anything, made a comment about my lucky spot.
By the time we decided to pack it in, a decision prompted by a strong downpour that included some hail freezing Connor, I had caught two more Sockeye (Red) salmon, bring the count to four. Our friend kindly filleted them and vacuum sealed them so they could be frozen for later. The boys unfortunately did not have any catches (Connor claimed that I was using “hacks” to get mine). They’re not sold on the experience, but I think I would be willing to try again.