Another Fishing Story (PLUS A BONUS STORY) from the G. LOOMIS ARCHIVES…………………..
In looking through the G. Loomis Archives we found the following story written by Gary Loomis (yes, THE Gary Loomis). Gary is truly a legend in the world of fishing, whether panfish, bass, or the largest saltwater big game variety. Gary has now retired, but we think this story and plea is especially timely even now. We hope you will enjoy this story…..
IF YOU WANT IT DONE RIGHT
By GARY LOOMIS
IF YOU WANT IT DONE RIGHT By GARY LOOMIS
The same thing that led me to create a fishing rod company is now taking me on another path. Years and years of fishing (and frustration with my equipment) led me to create a fishing rod company. Now, those same years of fishing (plus about thirty more) are taking me on another mission, conservation. The passion I feel for saving our wild and native fisheries can only be compared to the way I felt about graphite when I was forty and the way I’ve felt about fishing all my life. The thousands of hours I’ve spent fishing have taught me the difference between a good and a bad rod and the difference between a good healthy river and one that we’ve managed to screw up. Watching huge runs of salmon, steelhead and trout that have survived for thousands of years be all but decimated in the matter of a human lifetime is unbearable to me. After all, what is a fisherman if there are no fish? I could go on and on (and I have) about what people are doing wrong that is causing the current problems in the Pacific Northwest (gillnetters, dams, habit destruction etc.) but eventually I realized the only way to save fish was to do something. As avid fishermen, we often know our home waterways (and what is hurting them) better than anyone. After all, we’re the ones floating and wading through them everyday. Here in Washington we saw firsthand what a bad culvert could do to a tributary and what happened to spawning grounds when the bank was suddenly devoid of vegetation. It was this knowledge that led us here at G.Loomis to create Fish First,a not-for-profit organization dedicated to saving the wild and native fish in Washington’s Lewis River system. Our methods are simple, rather than complain about the things we can’t change, we fix the things we can. We have created countless bank enhancements and in-stream structures. We put up fences and bridges to keep cattle out of the entire river. We’ve created pools and eddies for fish to rest and spawn and replaced culverts deemed unpassable for anadromous fish and complete many, many other projects. It hasn’t taken millions of dollars or new laws or tax initiatives. It has taken hard work, a lot of it. The work of people who weren’t afraid to get their fee wet or their hands dirty.
The important message here isn’t what we’ve done, it’s what’s possible for you to do. It’s hard for me to express the satisfaction I’ve felt watching fish flourish because of something we’ve done. Heck, it’s almost as good as watching them hack a lure. I guess what I’m trying to say is, do something. You’re the ones who know what needs to be done and you’ll be surprised what a difference you can make. No one wants to save your local fish as much as you do. Take a good hard look at your local fishery the next time you’re there and I bet you can find more than a few ways to make it better. It’s going to take us all.
AND A BONUS GARY LOOMIS STORY……………….
THE ONE THAT DIDN’T GET AWAY (DESPITE ALL EFFORTS TO THE CONTRARY)By GARY LOOMIS
I’ve had the great fortune to fish all over the world, but this story takes place on the North Fork of the Lewis, right here at home. It was quite a few years ago, and I was fishing for summer-run steelhead with Steve Rajeff.
If you haven’t heard of Steve, he’s our Chief Rod Designer, the winner of more National and World Casting Championships than anyone in history, and a phenomenal fisherman. So any story with the potential to embarrass Steve is a good one in my book.
At this particular time in history Steve was fairly new to spin fishing for steelies. But early in the trip a steelhead picked up his bait, and BANG! That fish took off on a dead run – zing!!! – right down the river! It almost spooled him, heading right over the break and out of the hole.
Suddenly, slack line. “I lost him,” Steve shouted. He was shaking like a leaf, but I could see the fish coming back upstream, headed for the hole again. I screamed to crank that reel as fast as he could. Just then, the fish jumped head over tail, not twenty feet from the boat. . .Holy #%*&! He was a hot one! That baby was upside down and sideways all at the same time! He wasn’t about to give up and headed straight upriver to the top of the hole.
Five seconds later, Steve yells, “I lost him!” I’m screaming, “Crank, crank, crank, he’s coming back downstream. . . AGAIN!”
Steve was back in control now. . . for about three seconds. That dang fish flipped completely over, six-feet in the air, and took off downstream. Steve’s doing all he can and losing, but bad. I told him to hang on and pulled in the anchor.
Just as I started the motor, I glanced over my shoulder. Steve was leaning as far out as he could and he’s out of line. The boat turned and we went down the river after the fish, Steve gaining line as fast as he could. “He’s right under the boat!,” Steve’s screaming now.
I knew better, though. The water was only two feet deep and I couldn’t see him. I ran back to Steve and found the line was snagged under a big rock. It was about then that the steelhead had pulled all that slack line against the current to a point where he had only one place to go.
And with that, he beached himself right on the sandbar next to the boat.
We hurried over there, jumped out of the boat and threw the net over him. I told Steve there was no way we could keep that fish. He’d done everything right and we’d just lucked out even getting close to him, so we released him right on the spot.
As the fish swam off, Steve and I realized we were sitting waist deep in the river and started laughing. But it was the fish who got the last laugh.
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