Good company makes up for bad haul on slow August fishing trip | Outdoors

I recently violated the well-ingrained code that comes with accepting a fishing trip on someone else’s boat: dictating the schedule. This breach of angler decorum occurred after an unexpected text message from a friend brightened my day. “I might be able to host a walleye trip if you are interested.”

SK has a regular fishing buddy; one he has fished with for several years. In this case, his pal wanted to bide his time and wait for fall-run Chinook salmon. I also knew SK most always launched his boat before first light. However, domestic challenges restrict my fishing starts to mid-morning.

Although it felt presumptuous to ask if we could launch after breakfast, SK replied, “Not a problem. We sometimes catch some later in the day.”

When SK also offered a loan of his gear, I replied, “No thanks, I will bring my own rod.”

More than once I have been burned when I got on a boat and found someone else’s rod and reel inadequate for my needs. Nightcrawlers rested in the bait cooler so I tossed in a dozen after reflecting how a pal offered to bring worms when we fished for yellow perch. As I recall, enticing a bite required threading three of his tiny wigglers on a no. 8 hook.

A week earlier, I hauled my boat to a remote launch on the lower Snake River where a neighbor had recent success for walleye. Unfortunately, the main motor did not turn over when I dumped the boat in. My bad for not going through a required checklist before leaving the house. One week later, this time with a rewired starter and two fully charged batteries, that same neighbor and I returned to the same launch, but failed to locate his walleye hotspot.

Although I don’t consider myself a control freak, I prefer to fish how I want, where I want, and for as long as I want without backtalk from the peanut gallery. Reflecting on the recent invitation, it had been a long time since I hopped on someone else’s boat, but I wanted to catch a walleye and SK surely knew what he was doing.

Admittedly, a few prior shared experiences with SK had led to a fiasco. There was a late-season sockeye trip where my anchor ended up as crayfish habitat after the shackle to the anchor chain came loose. To make matters worse, we returned to the launch to find a blown wheel bearing on my boat trailer. On another occasion, this time for Chinook salmon, a rod and reel ended up on the bottom of the river. I could only hope this trip would not lead to conflicting issues.

Calm winds and air temperature on its way to triple digit greeted us at a nearly empty boat launch. The first stop fished was a well-known location as was the second place we skipped because another boat worked the water. Left unsaid, was those who arrive first on the water are usually first to catch a fish. You don’t want to start the day motoring 10 miles upriver to find someone on your spot with a net out.

We then continued upriver to a third location I once fished because someone told me you could catch walleye there. Eyes stinging from the cold and whitecaps cresting on the river, I casted half-ounce jigs into a cruel spring wind without success. The disappointing experience proved unworthy of a return visit.

An hour of trolling plugs and bottom-walkers failed to entice a bite, so SK motored to yet another familiar location. After having worked and played in the Hanford Reach for 50 years, its many shoreline and bottom features have been committed to memory.

“Bass move from a nearby slough to this shoreline after they spawn,” I said. “But I’ve never fished for walleye here.”

Clear skies, water temperature that approached 72 F, low flows, and weeds that filled the water column influenced our performance. That’s my conclusion after we landed a single 16-inch walleye and one 12-inch smallmouth bass during four hours of trolling, and I’m sticking to it.

Empty moments were filled by sharing information where we once caught steelhead. Back when the season was summer-long and before the upriver run was listed for protection under the Endangered Species Act. All I had to do was watch my rod tip while SK managed boat speed and direction. I sensed he would have even filleted my modest catch. My only contribution to the pleasant day on the water was chipping in for gas — a bargain compared to a friend who recently paid $400 for a one-person guided trip.

Dennis Dauble is author of a natural history guidebook on Columbia River fishes, three collections of short stories about the fishing experience, a fishing memoir, and a recent book about 19 years of cabin life titled, “A Rustic Cabin.” He can be contacted via his website, DennisDaubleBooks.com.