The last time my dad and I trolled together at the annual July king salmon opener was about 15 years ago. This past July, the stars were aligned and the opportunity came up to fish kings with him, so I jumped at the chance.
Growing up in a fishing family has given me years of learning the ocean and the art of catching wild salmon by hook and line. While a lot has happened in the years since I last went king salmon fishing with my dad, once we were back on the water, it became evident that some things hadn’t changed.
On commercial fishing vessels, the hierarchy of decision making is clear. The deckhand runs through the lines, bleeds and cleans the fish, and packs them in ice as quickly as possible to preserve quality. The captain decides where — and at what depth — to fish, which gear to use, and keeps the machinery running. The challenge that my dad and I faced this year was who was going to call the shots now? The 30-something-year-old crewman — I’ve learned a thing or two after running my own boat for a decade — or the seasoned skipper on his 45th troll season.
When king salmon opens on July 1st, it's often the best day of the season and much deliberation goes into where to start. My desire was to find the largest schools of king salmon — bad weather and competition be damned. His was to find calm and secluded waters without other boats around. Every sport fisherman we know is interrogated for information. Boats leave days early to search for birds, whales, and bait fish — signs that fish are near. The pressure is on to get it right and, after some discussion, we landed on my father’s discomfort fishing in winds above 25 knots. I was okay dodging storms as long as we didn’t settle until we had found a decent catch rate.
The winds were going to pick up from the northwest late on the first day so we headed south where we knew we could catch a break from howling winds and choppy seas. We started at 4 a.m. on July 1st, anxiously letting our lines out and hoping that we had landed on a giant school of kings. After the first 15 minutes went by without a bite, doubt started to creep in. Did we miss the bite? What are we doing? Is the boat fishing? Then boom! One of the lanes started shaking violently, the telltale sign of a big king.
“Soaker on the port main” my dad called out gleefully.
Seconds later, the starboard main began shaking. We were in the right place and the bite was on! We landed big kings until the northwesterly started to pick up, and then headed south for the protection of Chatham Straights. We had 28 kings by 11 a.m. and we were just getting started. We settled into working together to decide where to fish and found kings during the rest of the opener. Having two captains definitely had its advantages.
There is nothing better than going down for a quick power nap and waking up to ask “How many did we catch?”.
We fell into a comfortable rhythm that we had established 20 years prior. I learned new areas to fish and my dad stretched his comfort zone and listened to my ideas. Our father-son duo made it work together, and it was just what our relationship needed. Shared success and reliance on each other brought us together, and the beautiful salmon we caught going to your doorstep makes it even better.
