Every time I tell people that I fish for shad, they look at me like I'm crazy. I suppose they're envisioning me with a plastic bucket, scooping up some sardine-sized tadpoles.
If you don't have a boat and enjoy the fast-paced cast/reel/repeat scenario, then shad fishing is pretty fun. The best time to go is Memorial Day weekend when the fish count jumps from practically zero to the thousands. There isn't a limit (as far as I know) because the shad tend to eat salmon roe, which wildlife regulators frown upon.
So for one weekend out of the year, hundreds of people line up along Bonneville Dam and cast simultaneously beside each other, with their gallon buckets full of the migrating shad.
To me, fishing for shad is like fishing for small-mouth bass. They may look different, but they put up a decent fight, just like bass. Even if you don't catch anything, it's still entertaining, just casting, reeling in and repeating.
The first time I went to Bonneville was last year with Mr. Big. He told me it was about an hour out. Three hours later, I realized this required a little bit of traveling.
Armed with just two poles, one white and blue cooler and a net, we made our way down the treacherous rocks that led to the water. The 30 foot hill is covered in large rocks that you must strategically travel down. Some rocks are loose, so if you're not careful you may slip and impale yourself. And don't even get me started on the possibility of snakes hiding underneath the rocks.
Still, ignorance is bliss and that's the way I went into it. As I scooted down the rocks on my hands and knees like a crab, I ignored my parents' warning, "Look out for snakes!"
Since the fish count wasn't as high as last year, not as many people were lined up along the shore. Everyone was about six feet from one another and someone seemed to be catching a fish every ten minutes. People who had been staked out there all morning had strings of 15 fish laying in the water.
I had already decided that I would be using hot pink darts for bait, while Big opted for lime green. I closed my eyes and gave my first cast, hoping my fishing skills would magically come back to me and I wouldn't accidentally hook someone else's line.
A couple seconds later, my line zoomed forward. I quickly tried reeling in, but the line kept unrolling. Mr. Big was busy setting up his pole, so in a desperate attempt I grabbed the line with my bare hands. Ouch.
Right when I was about to yell for help, the line stopped and suddenly I was free. I didn't tell Big. He would've told me it was a sturgeon, but I'd like to think it was the Ogopogo.
One of the best parts of fishing at Bonneville is being able to watch the sturgeon. The majestic sea monsters patrol the shore, getting up and close with the fishermen.
"A big ass sturgeon is heading your way," the man to my right warned. I looked at the water and didn't see any foreboding shadow. A couple seconds later I saw some chewed up fish float up. Down to my left, two Russian fishermen were slapping the tips of their poles in the water, trying to shoo away the seven-foot-long sturgeon, who was incidentally eating the nearby shad. I had to hold myself back from wanting to jump on the sturgeon's back and ride it like a dolphin.
A couple hawks scooped up some fish as well. They probably caught more than some fishermen there, which is always unsettling. I feel bad for the guys who don't catch anything while the people around them are killing it. So I felt better when the two Russian fishermen, who had fancy equipment, finally caught a fish about four hours in.
Ultimately, we ended up catching seven shad. Big eventually shifted to my hot pink darts, but refused to admit he was a biter. He insisted he didn't want to use that color, but the fact that he kept getting bites didn't make him want to use lime green anymore.
Maybe it's all in my head, but shad fishing is kind of about outlasting the fisherman next to you. People don't go shad fishing for just two hours - they stay for a long time. Once both of your neighboring fishermen have left, only then is it okay for you to pack up.
The entire time, the wind was blowing pretty hard, making it difficult to balance on the rocks. I'm pretty sure for an hour straight I was shivering while trying to cast. The sun was blaring, but the wind pierced through even two sweatshirts, giving me goosebumps. So imagine my surprise when I discovered my face was sunburned during the drive back. While I should have known better, it didn't occur to me that I could get burned even though it was cold. While my face wasn't crispy, I'm pretty sure a lot of people will be looking like a lobster this week...