Campbell
River, British
Columbia was the destination. Why Campbell River? The ultimate
destination wasn't really the river at all. Rather, a small coastal
fishing village overlooking the Discovery Passage on Vancouver Island's
eastern shore. The site is a remote location, nearly 6 hours travel
from Vancouver - three by ferry to the port of Nanaimo on Vancouver
Island and another three by car due north to the village known as
Campbell River. The ocean waters surrounding Campbell River are without
question one of the most revered fishing destinations in all the world.
This historic fishing site discovered by native Indians hundreds of
years ago boldly claims the title of "Salmon Capital of the World." The
title, eulogized by famed western novelist Zane Gray in the 1920s,
stems from his chronicles on the famous "Campbell River Tyee Fishing
Club." Fisherman throughout the world hold the Tyee Club as one of the
most revered and sought after memberships imaginable. A Tyee member, by
witness, must land a Chinook "Tyee" Salmon, called "King" salmon to
those in the States, in excess of 30 pounds from a drifting rowboat,
using an artificial lure, in the waters along Tyee Spit. The Tyee Spit
is a small peninsula of land approximately one mile in length just
south of the mouth of Campbell River. To this day the waters along the
Tyee Spit are off limits to everyone except fisherman seeking
membership into this elusive club.
Our hopes weren't
nearly as grand. Drift or troll, artificial or live bait, Chinook,
Coho, or Chum, we just wanted to catch salmon. Anyway, although not
mythical, most people felt gaining membership to the Tyee Club was
mostly a thing of the past maintained by great fishing lore. After all,
the club was formed in 1917 when fish were plentiful. A sharp contrast
to today. In the first 50 years hope for gaining membership was a
reasonable goal for most ardent fisherman. However, since 1970 annual
new members have been dropping steadily mostly pointing toward the
growth and success of Alaska commercial fishing taking its toll. Mostly
old-timers with lots of patience give it a shot. The vast majority of
fishermen tend to avoid the strict Tyee challenge entirely and troll
for their catch off the lighthouse nearly 6 miles to the south leaving
only the purists to the waters along Tyee Spit. Nevertheless, we were
off. Who knew what lay in store for us.
Day
1
We left Seattle
early on August 5, 1998 driving north by caravan. The party consisted
of my father (Jim) and I in our Honda Accord pulling the "Turner
Tornado" while my children (Lauren age 9 and Taylor age 6), wife
(Beth), sister (Erika), and mother (Joan) followed behind in our second
car. The boat was a small 14' Livingston tunnel hull popular to the
Northwest's coast guard that I purchased earlier that year. Taylor
proudly named the vessel the day we brought her home. I think it was
partly in homage to our Kansas heritage.
The First
Sign of Trouble
My father and I, two
eager fishermen, were without question in a hurry to reach Vancouver
and keeping to a very tight schedule. Missing the 11:00 A.M. Vancouver
ferry meant delaying our Campbell River arrival by at least two hours.
We pushed the Honda as fast as it would go with boat in tow.
Ninety minutes into
our journey Beth, pulled up beside us on I-5 and yelled "smoke is
coming from underneath your car!" We quickly pulled to the shoulder,
jumped out and popped the hood. Sure enough, smoke was rolling off the
engine and Beth yelled, "the car's on fire!" My father, never one to
get excited, lit up a cigarette as he peered in and argued the claim.
Beth quickly proved her point as flames leaped from underneath the
carburetor leaving us in a frenzied attempt to extinguish the blaze
before it was too late. My first panicked thought was to unhook the
boat so we could at least guarantee salvage of the fishing trip. My
father yelled to retrieve the fire extinguisher from the boat only to
find out I hadn't purchased one. Thinking the fire was no more than the
equivalent of a match, I began blowing and fanning the flames which
only worsened the situation. We found ourselves unable to suffocate the
blaze because it was too well protected by hoses and cables. Our last
resort and thought was a stray water bottle that lay under the back
seat. Luckily this did the trick. After inspection my father and I
concluded that nothing had been damaged. The fire had been caused from
oil splashing onto the exhaust manifold.
In the frenzied preparation
for the trip I had forgotten to put the oil cap back on. I received the
obligatory rolling of the eyes from Beth prompting my Homer Simpson,
"DOH!" Beth claims when I get fishing on the brain all bets are off
regarding details. I had no defense, she's right.
We arrived at the
Vancouver ferry dock in good time. The fire was only a minor delay and
in the end no real harm to our trip, or so we thought.
Two hours later we
were docking in Nanaimo on Vancouver Island's eastern shore thirty
miles due north of Victoria. We continued by car for another three
hours navigating the perimeter highway of Vancouver Island. We arrived
in Campbell River at 4:00 P.M. and quickly made our way to the resort
called Elk Falls. The resort offered small one bedroom cabins on the
banks of Campbell River. One mile downstream the river flowed
into the waters of the Discovery Passage, home to the awesome migrating
Orca whales. Not one to lose any fishing time, my father and I quickly
unpacked and readied our gear for our first fishing experience of the
trip. We quickly made our way to the boat ramp just south of Tyee Spit.
Launching the boat proved tricky as we fought 30 mile per hour north
winds. Wind or no wind we were putting this boat in the water. After
getting much too wet and executing an extremely awkward launch we were
afloat and off.
The first evening
proved a challenge. Winds pushed waves to three feet, and hearing
before hand of the awesome currents and whirlpools that can pull
floating trees under in this area, we decided to stay close to shore
and jig in shallow water. Our high expectations for this night netted a
dozen bottom fish consisting of Kelp Greenling, Yellow-eyed Rockfish,
and a few Ling Cod. No salmon though. We headed for the marina after
only an hour and arrived back at the cabins for a late supper. We
declared tomorrow would be our day.
Day 2
We awoke at 5:30
A.M. and quickly scurried to ready ourselves for the big day. It was a
perfect morning, not a breath of wind and 55 brisk degrees. By 6:00
A.M. we were back at the dock. We quickly loaded our gear, started the
motor, and slipped out of the marina. The water was calm and smooth in
sharp contrast to the previous evening. Several boats were heading for
the lighthouse off the sound end of Quadra Island a mile or so
southeast of us. The locals said this would be the hot spot. Upon
arriving we quickly rigged our lines and dropped "Crippled Herring"
lures to a depth of 150 feet where our fish finder marked a large
population of fish. The lures were simple herring-shaped jigs
made of
lead approximately 5 inches long designed to flutter like a wounded
fish when slowly dropped to the bottom. The lure is common in
the
Northwest and is good for just about anything including salmon. After
an hour we had two Dogfish sharks to show for our efforts. Around us
the boat population grew and grew. By 9:00 A.M. there were over 50
boats within a half mile in every direction. Everyone was trolling. We
decided to go with the flow and set out our down rigger and trolling
lines. Three hours later we were still without a salmon. Discouraged
and surprised that we hadn't seen others landing salmon either, we
headed for shore.
After an afternoon break and strategizing about our techniques we
headed out for another evening attempt but came back empty again. Not
wanting to lose any more time learning the hard way we decided to hire
a guide. The cost was $350.00 Canadian for five of us to go the next
morning. The party would consist of my mother, father, sister, son, and
me. This would certainly be our answer.
Day
3
Our guide, Gary, met
us at the dock at 6:00 A.M. His boat was a 23' Crusader, well built for
fishing and rough water. The seating area was fully covered to protect
us from the elements with a wide open stern for fighting large fish.
Gary baited our excitement on the ride out to the lighthouse with
stories of 20 and 30 pounders he had landed over the years. We arrived
at the fishing hole around 6:30 A.M. and made quick work in getting our
rigs down. Gary's boat was fully equipped with electric down riggers
calibrated for precise trolling in deep water. In our first troll we
hooked a small King weighing a mere 3 pounds - more like a Prince. The
trolling speed of the boat made the fight trivial, but at least we were
heading in the right direction. However, the minimum size allowable is
approximately 8 pounds. Gary, confident we would catch a boat load this
day, released the fish immediately without even a single picture
snapped. After five hours of trolling each of us managed to land
similar sized juveniles. We headed for shore once again empty handed
and dejected.
Three hours later I
was up again and determined not to be beaten. I quickly headed for the
tackle shop to mirror the outfits our charter captain had used. If I
couldn't catch a legal salmon at least I would catch a few small ones
on my terms. I convinced my father to give it another try and head out
again that evening.
We were skunked
again. Dejected, my father lost all respect for this famed region and
harkened to the catfish back in Kansas as being a more cooperative and
satisfying foe.
Day
4
I awoke at 5:30 A.M.
to find, to my surprise, my mother ready and eager to set out. Dad was
under the weather, or at least so disgusted with the fishing that he
was sick to his stomach. Nevertheless, I was glad to have a willing
partner. Day four proved to be the most challenging. A strong outgoing
tide made currents swift and trolling nearly impossible. To compound
matters waves two to three feet in size constantly swept across our bow
making straight trolls extremely difficult. Twice the down rigger line
crossed over the prop guard giving us a scare while the third time
proved to be nearly disastrous. The wire wrapped completely around the
propeller. Fighting the waves I balanced myself off the stern trying to
carefully untangle the down rigger line without falling head first into
the frigid Pacific waters. Too often such an event results in an
embarrassing tow home and a $200.00 marina repair bill. However, God
was looking out for us this day as I avoided a chilly swim, untangled
the down rigger line, and managed several more hours of fishing. By
11:00 A.M. we were heading in - empty handed once again.
We decided to
abandon thoughts of fishing for a while and spend the afternoon taking
in some local culture with the entire family. I had convinced myself
not to let the poor fishing ruin my trip and looked forward to the
afternoon. To our luck the town was having their annual Lumberjack Days
which consisted of everything from axe throwing to log rolling to buck
sawing events. It was truly a fascinating competition to watch. Later
that afternoon we took to the mountains to visit the waterfalls in the
mountains of Strathcoma National Park just east of Campbell River. The
diversion was exactly what we needed.
The
Last Night
The evening of Day 4
hadn't improved my father's mood on fishing so I inquired to my
mother's desire to make one last attempt. I told her we would escape
the hoards of fishermen to the south and head north towards Brown's
Bay. If we did fish we would concentrate on Ling Cod and "just have
fun." The sites to the north included the famous Painter's Lodge where
Tom Hanks, John Travolta, and Merv Griffin had stayed the week before.
North of Campbell River the passage narrows with incredible cliffs
lining the water's edge. As we passed Painter's Lodge we approached a
small peninsula jutting out into the passage. The water on the north
side was known as Duncan's Cove just south of the Campbell River paper
mill. As we approached the peninsula I thought to myself, "if I were a
salmon this is where I'd be." We each again rigged up with
Crippled Herring lures, just as we had started our trip, and began a
drift northward with the outgoing tide. After twenty minutes we had
landed a half dozen Rockfish and two Ling Cod. However, even by bottom
fish standards they were small so I prompted my mom to pull up.
However, she was in the middle of untangling a "bird's nest" in her
reel and asked for five more minutes. I rolled my eyes and reluctantly
dropped my line down one more time.
The Fish
Fifty feet later the lure made a sharp jolt. For a split second I
thought the lure hit bottom and snagged. The boat immediately swung
around in the direction of my line. It was then that I realized it was
a fish. I rared back to set the hook and felt an incredible sense of
energy at the other end. My reel screamed as the fish made a vicious
run south. Then, the fish made a 90 degree turn and headed for deep
water. I held on as the fish ran off 250 yards of line. I yelled to my
mom that we had something big on the line - "it could be 20 pounds!"
The fish then stopped and began a furious thrashing. Every swing of his
head could be felt in my arms. The fish, approximately 100 feet deep,
then made a mad dash towards me. Too often a salmon will charge the
fisherman giving slack to the line and affording an opportunity to
escape by taking pressure off the hook. I reeled as fast as I could
with little or no tension on the line for 15 seconds. The fish circled
the boat and made another mad run east. This time he was heading for
the surface at the same time. I could see the line rising from a near
vertical descent. My fear was he would breach the surface leaving me
with little or no control. A fish out of water leaves a fisherman
helpless until he can bring tension back to the line. He didn't breach
though. Instead, the fish's tail made a wide sweep above the water
giving us our first glimpse of his size. Even from 100 yards away I
knew I was dealing with a Tyee salmon. I yelled, "It's got to be 30
pounds! Did you see the size of his tail?" The fish made another deep
dive and now was just below our boat circling some 70 feet down. 15
minutes had passed since I first set the hook and I now felt I might be
starting to gain some control. I started to slowly reel him in. The
fish circled the boat as he slowly began to rise.
Several minutes
later I knew we were about to get our first real glimpse of this
incredible fish. Thirty feet down in crystal clear water a dark and
mysterious silhouette passed underneath us. "Oh My God" were my first
words upon seeing him. A shuttering "Ohhhhhhh" whispered from mom. This
was no 30 pound salmon. In fact this one might tip the scales at an
astonishing 50. I then looked at my mom and said very seriously, "you
know - you're going to have to net this fish." I don't think I've ever
seen my mother tremble. She finally found herself in an unenviable
position. I had the fish of a lifetime on the line and the only way we
could get this fish in the boat was to operate as a team affording no
mistakes. I began barking orders to her to clear the starboard side of
the boat. We needed everything moved so we could work the landing.
Coolers, buckets, tackle boxes, fishing poles, clothes, oars, ropes,
and net all had to be moved out of the way.
I then began to give
her some basic instructions on how we were going to net him. It was
then that I realized the net we had was far too small. In fact, it was
only 18" deep and hardly strong enough for a fish over four feet long.
I knew we would need some luck. If mom could get the net under his head
I would need to grab his tail with my right hand and hope we could both
lift him over the side of the boat.
The fish circled the
boat for 10 more minutes before we finally decided it was time. I
maneuvered the fish toward mom and it all came together. The net went
under the head and I reached for the tail. But when I caught the tail I
found the base nearly 8 inches wide preventing me from grasping the
fish. All I could do was lift with an open palm. The two of us lifted
and as the tail raised above the head the full weight of the fish hit
the bottom of the net. The net exploded sending the fish back into the
water with the net hooped around the rod tip. For a split second I
thought the fish had escaped. The fish, spooked, made a mad dash
reeling out 100 yards of line. Meanwhile my mom held the net in her
hands looking as if she had just netted my fishing rod. I frantically
instructed her to find a pair of scissors to cut the rod free of the
net. A knife would have been too risky while a scissors could cut the
net away without risking a tragic slice of the fishing line. There were
no scissors to be found. In the panic the entire boat was in disarray
and nothing was where it should be.
Feeling defeated and
sure it was only a matter of time before the fish broke the line or
threw the hook I decided to do the next best thing. I told mom to find
a camera so we could at least document this fish in some way. Otherwise
no one would ever believe us. She found the camera and quickly started
searching for the fish. "I can't get the camera to work" she yelled.
Being an instamatic camera I screamed for her to "just point and
shoot." My mother is generally an extremely calm person in tense
situations but at this moment she was out of her element. She then
exclaimed, "I took one!". "Did you get the fish in the picture," I
said. "No," she said panicking. "That's not a good sign," I said. The
camera would not work again. What next I wondered.
How do I get this
fish in the boat, I wondered? It was an extremely helpless feeling. I
then instructed my mom to begin waving down passing boats. We needed a
bigger net and surely a passing charter boat would come to our rescue.
Unfortunately, we had traveled so far north of the normal fishing
channel that the nearest boats were over half a mile away. The best we
could manage was a friendly hello wave in return. My mind was racing.
What to do? Suddenly, I remembered a "Fish Noose" sold in fishing
stores used to disable a fish by holding the tail. I said, "grab some
40 pound test line and make a slip knot and we¹ll lasso this
fish." Mom scrambled to the tackle box and located the spool of line.
She began a frantic attempt to tie what would have been the simplest of
slip knots, if not for her trembling hands. All the while I was busy
trying to reel the fish back in after his run from the net. The fish
was now next to the boat again. My mom stood up and said "it's no use."
I looked at the
water and wondered how I would fare if I jumped in on top of the fish
and wrestled him into the boat. The fish made a slow pass by the boat
and I calmly reached my hand into the fish's right gill only to feel a
line of razor sharp teeth-like serrations inside. I decided against an
attempt to lift the fish into the boat with my bare hand fearing a
thrashing episode might erupt leaving my fingers mangled. I was now
fresh out of ideas so I just stood there and watched the salmon make
trip after trip around the perimeter of the boat.
And then it hit me.
"The Gloves!" My wife, Beth, had given me a pair of blue fishing gloves
for Christmas nine months earlier. As I think back I held the gloves up
next to the Christmas tree and thought "what would I ever do with these
things?" They were made of blue neopreme with sand grains embedded in
the palm and unless I was taking employment on a fish cleaning ship I
doubted I would ever find use for them. A few weeks later I threw them
into the bottom of a pack mounted to my boat's center console along
with a pack of flares I also thought I would never use. I yelled to my
mom to find the gloves.
She found them. The
next moment was like a scene from M.A.S.H. I held out my hands one by
one and with the precision of a surgical nurse she slipped the gloves
over my hands. I could now grab this fish with no fear.
The fish was making his usual
deliberate passes around the boat just below the surface. I knew I would
have to turn the rod and reel over to my mom - it was an act of faith
many people wouldn't envy. If anyone was going to be responsible for
this fish it should be me. Putting her on the controlling end of this
fish could be a simple detail or disastrous. I likened it to sending a
freshman into the championship game with only five seconds left and
asking him to take the final shot. Dealing with a failed effort would
be hard to live with. But, I knew I needed both hands on this fish in
order to lift him. At this stage my arms were like rubber from fighting
the fish for nearly 40 minutes.
I reduced the drag
so the fish could make another run if I spooked him when I made my
grab. I handed my mom the pole and instructed her to guide the fish
over toward my side of the boat. The fish cooperated and I thrust my
arms into the water and landed the largest fish of my life. When the
fish hit the bottom of the boat a feeling like none other hit us.
We had done it! We
had caught a salmon of size few in the world have ever seen. The fact
that we landed this fish without a net is without question an absolute
miracle. How did we keep him on the line for nearly 40 minutes? How did
we turn him when he ran out some 250 yards of line? But there he was.
The fish was one of
the largest King Salmon in the world. His tail spread 17" wide from tip
to tip. His body was over 9" thick at the middle and measured 13" high.
It was my first legal King and possibly my last. As I gazed at him I
didn't know how much he weighed but I once caught a 20 pound striped
bass that looked like a goldfish compared to this monster.
The rush of
adrenaline was intense. My mom and I were screaming at the top of our
lungs with jubilation. We were like two football players who just
pulled off the upset of the century. High fives! Yes, high fives! I
normally don¹t jump in a 14' boat but we were jumping this
day. "Look at em! Look at em! He's huge! He's got to be 50 pounds," I
said. We were like two giddy teenagers. But, the best thing of all is
that it was a defining moment for my mom and I. Never had we shared
such an emotional event together. My mother would later say it was the
most exciting thing she had ever experienced. We were in a state of
euphoria. We now needed to share this with everyone else. We fired the
motor up and headed for home.
We were four miles
from the marina and by my estimates about 15 minutes away. Half way
home we converged with a boat that appeared to be our charter from two
days earlier. We frantically waved him down only to find out we were
mistaken. Still, he asked, "what's with all the commotion?" I said, "We
just caught a 50 pounder!". As our boat slowly came together he said,
"Oh, they look a lot bigger than they really are." I said, "No, we
landed this fish with our bare hands, and he's 50 pounds." When his
eyes finally got a glimpse of the fish he said, "Oh my God! I haven't
seen a fish that big in six years." I asked him where I should go to
get him weighed. He said he was heading home also and that we should
follow him in and he'd help us out.
Little did we know at the
time but the charter captain was radioing ahead to the marina. Marina's
thrive off of marketing opportunities such as this one and given the
past few weeks they needed some good news. Receiving the call that a 50
pound salmon was on its way prompted a flurry of activity at dockside.
Rounding the rocks at the jetty we headed to the charter docks to find
a crowd awaiting our arrival. It was like a hero's welcome. Video
cameras were rolling, cameras were clicking, and people were clammering
to get a closer look. A group of ten Japanese fishermen were also on
hand which added to the frenzy as each wanted to get in the picture -
most of them barely taller than the fish itself. Even a reporter from
the Vancouver newspaper was on hand. The captain grabbed his hand held
scales and jumped into our boat to get a reading - "47 pounds!" We
would later find that his scale was inaccurate at such weights and the
fish actually weighed in at a whopping 55 pounds - one of the largest
salmon on record.
I next headed for
the phone to call a local taxidermist to inquire about my options.
Meanwhile, mom jumped in the car and headed for the cabins to get the
rest of the family.
I was striking out
with each taxidermist I called. The first two complained that they had
only mounted King's in the 30-40 pound range. The problem with my fish
is they couldn't work on it for a few days meaning they needed to
freeze it flat and they didn't have a freezer that large. I thought,
how hard could it be to get a salmon mounted in the "Salmon Capital of
the World?" Well, for this fish, it was impossible.
While I furiously
made phone call after phone call mom was racing for the cabins. When
she arrived she jumped out of the car only to find no one home. They
must be down by the river, she thought. She ran 75 yards towards the
river before she saw them near the shore. When they looked up they saw
her frantically waving her arms. Their first thought was something bad
had happened - the boat sunk, the car caught on fire again or worse.
When they finally reached her she was hysterical. "Come quick, you
won't believe it, you've got to see this," she said. Beth said, "what
is it, what's happened?" And then like a stuttering child she screamed
out F-F-F-F-F-FISH!!! The race to the dock was on.
It was a proud
moment for everyone. Dad, even after missing out on the catch reveled
in the event. Most of all he was excited for mom. Rarely in her life
has she had the opportunity to experience anything so grand. Mom and I,
glowing for the cameras, hoisted the fish for all to see. After the
picture taking, and discussion of the taxidermy problem ended, we
decided to put our hopes on the pictures turning out and decided to
have the fish smoked. After all, 30 pounds of smoked salmon sounded
pretty appealing. The rest is history. A great picture, a lot of great
smoked salmon to share with family and friends, and a memory of my mom
and I landing the biggest fish of our lives.
PRICELESS!
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Last Updated November
12, 2008
- Story Copyright 1998