jamisonace
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I finally made it up to the McKenzie River to chase springers. Yeah, it’s a little late in the season, but I wasn’t just out there for fun—I was helping a good friend of mine who’s pretty disabled and needed to fill his freezer. Helping a buddy and getting a line wet? That’s a no-brainer.
We launched at Leaburg Dam around 5 p.m. and headed straight for the Dam Hole. If you’ve fished it, you know the spot—it’s a popular one, loaded with both boats and bank anglers. Usually, there’s an unspoken truce: boats keep to one side, bankies to the other. But the fish? They like to hang out in that sweet middle stretch, so both sides gently jockey for position. Most of the time, folks are respectful about it.
Our first fish came up high, well out of reach of the bank anglers, and after slipping back into the boat rotation, we started working downstream. We were being more than polite—maybe too polite—staying far off the bankies’ water. But sure enough, one hothead on the bank completely lost it. We drifted within 20 feet of his spot—not even crowding his drift—and he went ballistic. Next thing I know, he’s yelling and flinging his bobber rig right over my boat.
Naturally, I grabbed my scissors to cut his line—it was literally over my shoulders. But before I could snip it, his line caught on my oar. And just like that, my plans changed. I let the boat drift, his line still tangled. He kept hollering, though at that point I couldn’t even make out what he was yelling. A few moments later, I took pity on him, cut the line, and reeled in his gear.
I rowed over, handed him back his bobber and rig, and calmly explained that the whole situation was his fault for casting over my boat. To my surprise, he agreed. Then I watched him sulk on the rocks for the next 20 minutes, just staring at the water. I eventually left the hole and floated downstream.
Later, we caught up with the other boat, and they let me in on a little secret: apparently, he broke his rod when the line got caught on us.
Did that bring a smile to my face? You bet it did. Karma’s got a strong backhand.
We wrapped up the evening with two solid springers and a surprise summer steelhead. Freezer space got a little tighter—and the river served up a story worth telling.
We hit it again the next morning for a couple of hours and got him 1 clipped fish and 1 wild.
We launched at Leaburg Dam around 5 p.m. and headed straight for the Dam Hole. If you’ve fished it, you know the spot—it’s a popular one, loaded with both boats and bank anglers. Usually, there’s an unspoken truce: boats keep to one side, bankies to the other. But the fish? They like to hang out in that sweet middle stretch, so both sides gently jockey for position. Most of the time, folks are respectful about it.
Our first fish came up high, well out of reach of the bank anglers, and after slipping back into the boat rotation, we started working downstream. We were being more than polite—maybe too polite—staying far off the bankies’ water. But sure enough, one hothead on the bank completely lost it. We drifted within 20 feet of his spot—not even crowding his drift—and he went ballistic. Next thing I know, he’s yelling and flinging his bobber rig right over my boat.
Naturally, I grabbed my scissors to cut his line—it was literally over my shoulders. But before I could snip it, his line caught on my oar. And just like that, my plans changed. I let the boat drift, his line still tangled. He kept hollering, though at that point I couldn’t even make out what he was yelling. A few moments later, I took pity on him, cut the line, and reeled in his gear.
I rowed over, handed him back his bobber and rig, and calmly explained that the whole situation was his fault for casting over my boat. To my surprise, he agreed. Then I watched him sulk on the rocks for the next 20 minutes, just staring at the water. I eventually left the hole and floated downstream.
Later, we caught up with the other boat, and they let me in on a little secret: apparently, he broke his rod when the line got caught on us.
Did that bring a smile to my face? You bet it did. Karma’s got a strong backhand.
We wrapped up the evening with two solid springers and a surprise summer steelhead. Freezer space got a little tighter—and the river served up a story worth telling.
We hit it again the next morning for a couple of hours and got him 1 clipped fish and 1 wild.
