I couldn't sleep Friday morning -- it was the eve of a week of vacation, and I had plan after plan rolling around in my head.
So, I got up, threw on some clothes, threw some new pink salmon flies into my box and threw the Subaru onto Interstate 5. I got to Dash Point State Park a short while later, and I waded out onto that big sandbar.
The tide was coming in -- and, oh my gosh, so was a big school of pink salmon. The pinks made a beautiful, nervous-water push, and my fingers shook a little as I tied on one of my new pink salmon flies.
OK, the fly is just a beadhead -- a tiny beadhead -- pink Woolly Bugger tied with sparkle chenille and a longish marabou tail. The fly looks like an oversized crappie jig -- it's just that simple.
Anyway, the school was right about 30 feet away when I made my first cast, and a nice pink ate the fly and flipped into the air.
All was sweet in the world.
I managed to hook three more pinks -- lost two of them -- before the school headed down to the madness that was Dash Point Park. I couldn't see many details at my distance, but it was clear that the pier was rapidly filling up with anglers.
I could hear the pink Buzz Bombs knifing into the water -- at least in my mind.
That first big school of fish convinced me that the Big Pink Salmon Run of 2009 will actually happen. I suspect that all this is a Better Late Than Never kind of deal.
The incoming tide started pushing me back to the beach, but another school -- or was it the same one circling around? -- breezed by, and I hooked two more fish. Bright pinks are hot, hot fish.
The fish really liked a slow strip -- pull, pull, pull, pause... pull, pull, pull. The line would just tighten up, and I set the hook with a hard strip of my line hand.
One of the sweetest parts of fishing pinks is that you see the school push in, and you expect that tightening-up strike on every cast.
I had to leave -- I only fished for about 90 minutes -- and I drove south knowing I wouldn't pester pinks for about 10 days, as I'm wandering around Oregon on my vacation. I'm kind of sad to miss so many days of what is finally shaping into an epic run, but the pinks will still be rolling toward Tacoma when I get back.
And I'm looking forward to exploring parts of the Oregon coast -- with fly rod and surfboard -- wading around the Deschutes River and hanging out with my family. My daughter, Courtney, wants to hook a few dawn smallmouth bass on the Columbia River. My partner, Heather, is of the same mind.
How lucky can a guy get?
I'm sorry about the lack of photos. My camera was left in the car Friday morning as I rushed for the water. I guess I could blame that blunder on a lack of sleep, but I think it was a little bit of Pink Salmon Fever.
