rock statuary and through the Zen garden to the trout pond to pick a rod and
warm up with some evening fly casting
for 3-pound rainbows.
At the dock is a 24-foot Grady White
that I’ll climb into in the morning with
guide Don Martin and run up Bute Inlet
to nail winter springs under snowcrowned peaks of the Cosmos Range.
The morning is sunny and the 49-degree water typically flat at Amor Point
miles inside Bute Inlet. Don rigs the
gear, every piece of it high end: Shimano
convergence rods 10-foot, 6-inch medium moocher, with bright blue Islander
Reels, MKR3. Only the best.
Anchovies are fitted into plastic
hoods and lowered 70 and 90 feet on
electric downriggers. The water in Bute
is over 2,100 fee deep and the bottom
flat as—in Don’s words, “God’s bocce’
pit.”
The action at season peak can be fast,
addictive and difficult to tear away from
even for lunch. Which is why, I’m told,
that during the height of the Inside Pass
salmon bite Sonora Resort will shuttle
chefs, staff, stemware and portable
kitchens to John’s Point on a primitive island in the center of the salmon
action, set up tables and shade screens
and provide lunch barbecues—all to
minimize an angler’s time off the water.
This isn’t salmon peak, it’s shoulder
season and my lunch and Thermos
of hot Arco Etrusco blend coffee have
been delivered to Don’s boat before I get
there. I’m properly armed for trolling
with a 12-inch glow gold metallic Super
Betsy Flasher, a 6-foot leader, knotted
to a 2/0 treble hook, sweetened with a
helmeted anchovy.
White wraiths of ribbon clouds drift
through the mountains and lift off the
water. Morning sun is trying hard to
transform summit ice into sparkling
diamonds. The white heads of eagles
glow in dark green conifer hillsides,
seals slide by, kingfishers twitter and
in my bones I can still feel the power of
the saltwater whirlpool.
Two shakers come into the boat and
terry sheely photo
Guide Chris Bennett with a Chinook
caught from the Inside Pass.
go out. Another pass and the starboard
rod is nudged, but doesn’t pop off the
downrigger. Two hundred feet farther
along the troll path the same rod pounds
down. A 25½-inch spring goes into the
box—dinner for Don’s family. Twenty
minutes later another good strike, and
this one has shoulders. The Chinook
makes a hard dive, surfaces and circles.
Somewhere along the rout it comes
unbuttoned. I remember Justin telling
me about a near 80-pounder that still has
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