It was another day to remember on the Nooksack River. I was able to finish my classes on time, say "wuz good" to a couple people around campus, and pack up for the Nooksack River via bus.

I was plagued by low cell phone battery, so in order to conserve, I did not listen to my usual hype up music to get me in the fishing vibe. Like I need that though, I'm always in the fishing vibe.

I got to the river wayyy later than I like to, around 4:30ish in the afternoon after a decent mile long trot. I donned my wading shoes and eased into the frigid waters of the Nooksack, once again surrounded by the tranquility of nature. I brought two rods this time, An 8ft ML for Bulldogs and a 9'6" float/drift/twitch/spincast rod (that lamiglas does literally everything well) for coho.

I began working some runs and seams with my standard Bulldog gear, and it wasn't long before something decent sized took interest in my offering. It shook its head, but then peeled line very quickly, unlike a bulldog. Suddenly a Coho thrashed about on the surface, with a little blemish on it's sides. I'D it as a hatchery fish, so I brought it up on shore and knocked it. It was actually my first coho of the season and my first on the Nooksack. I am now 1/6? on these silly creatures, having lost a few too many this year to be happy with.

Losing daylight fast, I scrambled over some rocks and noticed a fish roll in a pocket of slack water bisected by a shore net. I switched to a 1/4 oz jig I tied, named "the seducer" for it's ability to draw strikes from even the most lock-jawed coho. Sure enough, on the third twitch something snapped back, and a small, spunky buck thrashed about on the surface before resigning. About 3ish pounds and quite dark, I decided to let it go.

Daylight had evaporated, so I cleaned my fish on the river and hauled back to the bus stop, only to find that my phone had died. I went to a gas station bathroom, plugged in my charger, and found that the bus would arrive in 20 minutes. I also re-organized all my gear, and to my dismay, my trusty Gerber knife was nowhere to be found. I had left it on the river.

I don't leave my soldiers behind.

I bolted out, having to traverse 2 miles of decently rough terrain in 20 minutes or my knife was as good as gone, or I'd be stranded again. With 5% battery, a cell phone flashlight, and willpower, I trudged through the woods, dropped my gear in a secure location, and then dead sprinted through the brush. Rock scrambles, log balancing, thorns and nettle all slowed me down, but I was persistent. My knife was right where I left it, and upon grabbing it I bolted back. My gear was recovered and I made it back to the bus stop with less than a minute to spare.

I hopped another bus in Bham and to my surprise two of my good friends were also aboard. We shared the bus ride with someone who had some solid and stinky dookie stains all over his white slacks. It was not pleasant for anyone, but I feel bad for that guy. Hope everything went okay for him.

I arrived home to be greeted with triumphant cheers. I had brought home fish for the crew!

Tight lines

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