May 1, 2006 at 9:51 pm #81398McPilchuckblazerParticipant
Bitter Lake Trout Fishing
— back then 1970s —
The frogs croaking and the swallows swooping during the evening calm, we (Bruce McFarlane, Ben Cantu and I) launched our boat at the waters edge of Bitter lake located in suburban North Seattle, in hopes of catching some rainbow trout – later to grill at the local bar I bartended at (T-Bird Tavern) and where we had been drinking a few beers and hanging out at earlier. The bar was a usually and accustom night spot where the local-yokels gathered each night to spin yarns about fishing, hunting, pro sports or whatever. Most of the patrons however were BS’ers, we on the other hand were Do’ers and walked the talk, often showing up with some game birds and fish we had just killed. And we usually put on a Game Feed Party every year which consisted of salmon, steelhead, halibut, clams, upland birds and deer meat. Sometimes these Game Feed Parties lasted a few days at somebody’s house with mass quantities of beer also being consumed. With all the gear loaded we set forth and rowed over to a spot we had deemed “lucky” from previous experiences. Soon, the sun faded from sight and we were casting into the light shed upon the water surface from the nearby condo lights and therefrom the baseball field lights. The gear we had put together in haste didn’t amount to much…no fly rods and flies, just a few wine bottle corks to substitute for bobbers and Pautzke’s eggs attached to short leaders, as the rainbows we had found were up top feeding at the surface.
“There’s one on, see the cork bouncing over there,” Bruce said. Which followed with another one on.
Soon, I was into them, too.
Bruce and I continued to catch them left and right, while poor Ben couldn’t get a nibble sitting right between us in the middle of the boat and casting to the very same spot. Ben could be heard from time to time cussing each time Bruce and I would hook another, and of course like fishermen always do, we rubbed it in to follow with chuckles here and there. The rainbows weren’t too big, catchables around 9-11 inches but they tasted pretty darn good especially fresh-caught and grilled in butter, followed with cold beer.
At around 10:00 PM engulfed in total darkness we decided we had caught enough: ten trout. Ben got skunked! Back to the bar we fled, where soon the other patrons were salivating like drooling dogs as the aroma of frying trout permeated the place.
“Where’d you catch them?” somebody said.
Bruce replied, “why in the jaw and in a lake of course.” The grumbling could be heard from patron to patron down the bar until most everyone had had a taste of the fresh-caught rainbows…..
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.