Socially distanced fishing helps life feel a little more normal

Like many devoted anglers, I suffered withdrawal symptoms when regional waterways were declared off limits this past spring in response to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Thankfully, the new normal allows for fishing, a sport whose moral principals insist on effective social distancing.

Managing a polite distance from others is well-ingrained behavior for fly fishers who swing a Purple Maribou for steelhead. Indeed, most of us fly fishers would prefer never to see another person on our favorite run.

The Ringold Springs shoreline poses interesting situations because of its easy access. Bare cobble set between patches of reed canary grass provides convenient parking for bait casters and fly fishers alike.

Such close proximity can lead to anglers trading dirty looks. The term “low holing” comes to mind. Low holing is when you step in below another angler who fishes in a downstream direction, interrupting their so-called “beat.”

The thing of it is, some slowpokes stake out a certain rock where they once caught a steelhead.

However, rather than give up the whole dang shoreline to an angler who dawdles, inquire their intention before you string up your rod. Doing so will reduce conflict and ensure proper social distance.

Most of my fishing buddies are “high risk” because of age. We manage exposure by commuting to a designated fishing location in separate vehicles and arriving together to shoot the breeze from afar.

I never feel lonely though. Driving alone allows me to sing off key to favorite songs, lick my fingers clean of Cheetos, and toss candy bar wrappers in the bank seat without shame.

I hesitate to recommend trolling Wiggle-Warts for steelhead after four hours of trolling in Ice Harbor pool failed to yield a takedown — an outcome that proved nothing except possible incompetence.

Meanwhile, a lineup of anglers plied shrimp-and-bobber from the Walla Walla County bank. Although the drift of bobbers occasionally encroached, anglers managed to stand a polite distance away.

I recently launched my boat to try for mountain whitefish. Bouncing a faux egg through a fall Chinook spawning area near Ringold produced four “buck” whitefish up to 19 inches long and a large “hen” swollen with bright orange eggs.

Effective social distance was not an issue because I cast from the bow of my boat, my fishing buddy stood at the stern, and we netted our own fish.

Hoping an early November bump in flow brought steelhead into the lower Walla Walla River, I made the hour-long drive to my favorite stretch near McDonald Road, and passed a group of bundled-up anglers at Cargill Pond on the way.

I fished Cargill with grandkids over Christmas holiday a few years back. Adam and Sofia lasted an hour before they complained of being cold.

Or maybe they were bored. Either way, they wanted to go home and play video games on their iPad. I spotted a guy reeling in a fish, so I dragged the grandkids over to watch.

He put the fish in a bucket that contained a mix of bluegill, black crappie, and yellow perch — none over 6 inches long.

“Want these?” he asked. “I’ll get in trouble if I take any more home.”

When the grandkids shot me an imploring look, I replied, “I’ll help you escape the wrath of your wife.” Admittedly, fish tacos came to mind. Two hours of filleting 40 panfish yielded a quart bag of tiny filets. My guess is the guy is fishing there now.

Back to steelhead. My mind tends to wander when unseen forces disrupt the pattern of daily living. Over-wintering steelhead hold in deep runs and pools that have cover in the form of large boulders, slag concrete, cabled car bodies, root wads, and overhanging alder.

These “honey holes” allow for anglers to space several yards apart due to the natural order of pools, riffles, and glides. In other words, there is no excuse for encroaching on another angler’s space when fishing Blue Mountain streams for steelhead and trout — pandemic or no pandemic.

Local anglers are blessed to have year-round fishing opportunity — enough so to keep within WDFW’s safe guidelines of “explore locally.”

Indeed, some days you might be the only boat on the water (as mine was when we cast for whitefish on the Reach).

If bank fishing is your choice, respect the presence of others and seek a different place to fish if combat fishing is in force. Life should not be made more difficult than it already is.