The River

An upstream view of one of my happy places in the world.

The river is my fishing destination of choice. If at all possible, somewhere far enough away from a road where you cannot hear the cars driving by. I know it may be a lot to ask, but we can always dream. I prefer my rivers clear and with a gravel and sand bottom. Clear skies and the sound of the rushing waters will drown out your stress and worries quicker than a bottle of anything to muddle the mind. When all these elements are perfectly in place catching fish can become almost secondary. But lets not fool ourselves, the fish is why we are here.

My prey of choice is the King (Chinook) Salmon. They are large and aggressive. They fight amongst themselves for the opportunity to spawn. The larger and more aggressive males will chase away anything that may interrupt the spawning ritual, including a well presented fly! And if the buck is in a particularly foul mood a poorly presented fly will do just as nicely. I have seen males move 5-6 feet to strike a fly with reckless abandon almost ripping the rod from my hands simply because he is in a pissed off mood. Those strikes are few and far between, but ALWAYS memorable! In Michigan the Salmon move upstream on my favorite river in August in large pods and some may even move upstream much earlier. The skies can be very clear with few clouds and the water low and crystal clear. Do not let this ruse convince you that a light leader will get you more strikes. It will just leave you with an open mouth and a snapped line as the fish makes your feeble reel scream as they jump like a derailed freight train. Oh these early days of fall is what I long for. When the birds are singing freely and the river is whispering to my soul often drawing me into a blissful state of peace before there is a bone jarring strike and it feels like my arm was nearly ripped out of socket.

Me feeling a little juiced after catching this small but spunky male King.

Early in the season the adrenaline rush you experience when you tangle with one of these brutes is an awesome natural high. When the fight is done you can feel your heart thumping in your chest and you can't help but smile after the fight is done, win or lose (although the smile is usually bigger for the victor). often times you can hear another fisherman holler in excitement somewhere else upon the river and you know the fight is on elsewhere.

A female King on it's way back to her redd upon being released.

Where I fish on the Pere Marquette it is a catch & release only fishery. The Salmon and Steelhead are all natural reproduction or strays.As the season goes on you can see much evidence of the ending of the cycle of life for these amazing fish.

The end of the line for this great warrior.

Their bodies can be seen half eaten by scavengers or floating downstream dead or dying, the leave pay homage as they are falling readily upon the ground and in the river. It is always a somewhat sad moment for me that I really cannot explain. I have a great deal of respect for these fish and a sense of gratitude, but as the Salmon fill the river with nutrients the river will belong to the chrome warriors soon enough...


This is a re-write of one of my first blogs. I thought it could stand for a little improvement.

The KINGS are COMING!!!

It's that time of year again when the air starts to cool just enough to cause your mind to wander to cool streams and rivers filled to the brim with spawning fall salmon and steelhead practically on their heels looking for an easy meal of eggs and fry. I look forward to sleeping with the windows open and listening to the pitter patter of cool rain drops landing on the leaves as I'm smiling just as slumber embraces me. Even my dreams become consumed by fishing possibilities as I know that the days are slowly getting slower. But, the true telling sign is when my allergies start to bother me. Humidity is lower as the Ragweed blooms in full, but it bothers me less because I know the leaves will slowly change in color when the Kings are coming home!!!

This King is looking forward to continuing its life journey.

The story of the King Salmon's spawning cycle is well documented. It is common knowledge that they return to their birth river to spawn and eventually die. It is the grand example of the circle of life when you are born, grow, reproduce, die to replenish the earth with your nutrients. The circle for the Salmon is much smaller than ours, but it is a grand event.

In 2011 the salmon runs almost all over the state have been the best in almost 30 years. The rivers were teeming with eager Coho and Chinook Salmon traversing the hazards of dams, predators and most of all fisherman!

The toothy grin of the fisherman and the sharper teeth of the Salmon.

There was much worry about the several invasive species that were thought to threaten our amazing fishery. The Zebra mussels actually made the waters cleaner. The gobys have caused a surge in size in other Great Lakes fish like the Smallmouth Bass who eat them like candy. Lampreys have been an issue for a long while and the MDNR has worked diligently to stop them, but their population has been on the rise the last few years. The greatest threat and what everyone fear will be the knock out punch to our 7 billion dollar a year fishery is the dreadful Asian carp. What many people do not know is that they have been a nuisance since the 1990's and have been kept at bay since so far.

The deadly lamprey, vampires of Lake Michigan.

Dead alewives washed ashore on some beaches last summer.

With the changing ecosystem in the big lake we still have a fishery where the fish are large and in abundance, so much so that the MDNR will be reducing stockings in many rivers to avoid the disaster that happened in Lake Huron where there became more predators than prey due to overstocking to the point the fishery is almost non-existant compared to former years.

The alewife populations have been so high that they have been spotted dead along the beaches like the days of old. They alwives have been of a decent size which coincides with the size of their predators as well.

A nice bunch of Coho's from Hamilton Dam

An early thaw this year accompanied by a warm winter attributes to the large size of the fish being caught in all predatory species of the alewives. While cleaning steelhead at the the fish cleaning station in Holland as early as June I had seen several 20# class Kings with many boats getting their limits.

As a fisherman the King Salmon has become my favorite target species. They fight like steelhead on steroids when you consider their power. They will test every aspect of your gear from your drag to your leader, if something isn't quite right they will put a beat down on you ! They are good jumpers as well, but are not as acrobatic.

A happy fisherman with an August King on the PM.

I was first introduced to Salmon fishing as a 14 year old boy on the Rogue River, just a 5 minute walk from my grandparents back door. It left an impression on me that has made an impact of every aspect of my life. My grand parents no longer live there, but I still go back and visit. They have been planting Salmon in the Rogue again and the next couple years should be excellent. The crowds are something I wish to avoid so I drive north to my favorite river, the Pere Marquette in Baldwin.

A nice male King being revived before release on the PM

The Pere Marquette is simply called the PM by those who love it and fish it. The Salmon return earlier to the PM than many other river because it stays cool in the summer due to the many feeder springs that flow into it. Fish can be found in significant numbers as early as mid August if you know where to search. Thundersticks are an early season favorite below the restricted fishing area and the kings will sometimes tear them apart. The strikes are bone jarring and not to be soon forgotten by your shoulder and arm. Hold on tight and if luck shines upon you then you can land a silver beast in the log infested waters. The kings come in pods that push up the river to their spawning grounds which lie mostly within the catch and release flies only area. Catching a big King on a fly rod on a fly you created on your own can be a feeling that you can't explain until you experience it yourself. Not everyone out there is a catch & release advocate, but the PM demands it and it is always fulfilling experience. Just bring a camera to capture the fish.

A Map of the Flies Only section of the PM.

Another river many people watch closely is the Grand River. As soon as the Charter boats and pier fisherman in Grand haven start nailing them the excitement travels upstream with the fish. There are a few areas that anglers catch fish, but once they hit the 6th street dam in Grand rapids it becomes a circus. Fisherman from all walks of life show up in numbers as the fish start showing up. Spinners, spoons and Cranks can be used in any run that could hold fish. The east wall  produce large numbers from drifters and casters alike, fly fishing is impossible in this area, but it's prime for people with disabilities. The boat ramp area is notorious for the ultimate combat fishing experience if your up for it. Its shoulder to shoulder drifters here. The dam itself causes the water to boil and travel in swirling patters while the water flows out the center and west runs. This is a free for all as far as what fishing style works best. Many tourists come to downtown GR to see the Salmon jump the fish ladder and to watch the fisherman. The Grand also has a few tributaries that can have hot fishing.

Some guys fishing from the boat launch during high waters.

The Kalamazoo has the best fishing at Allegan dam, but it is only for experienced combat fisherman. The dam is the upstream limit on the Kalamazoo and the fish stack up. If you wish to avoid the crowds this is not the place to go. The hottest area to fish is usually on the stairs where there is usually a fisherman per stair and the tempers often flare. Some decent fishing has been had in recent years on the Rabbit river in Hamilton, There is a dam there as well which draws a good sized crowd when the fish are in.

A nice Coho at the Hamilton Dam

The Muskegon is a great river and really awesome if you have a boat. The Kings come up maybe a month after the PM gets started and can only go as far as Croton Dam. People fishing from shore are gathered closer to the dam, but boaters can drift down looking for large groups of fish or fish actively spawning.

Croton Dam in Newaygo, MI

So as the nights get colder and the leaves start to fall my dreams become reality as I will fight epic battles against some of the hardest fighting  freshwater game fish  in the US. Any day now I will sit here less and be on the river more.....any day now......

Undefeated Heavyweight Champion

There comes a time in every angler's lifetime where they realize they have a fish on their line that they cannot handle. As with many of my experiences this episode starts and ends on the fabled Pere Marquette River.

Let's go back a few years. I was more of a physical specimen than I am now. I was younger, stronger, and possessed more physical endurance. I felt I was always more than a match for any Salmon that was in the river. The PM is notorious for big, nasty, mean Kings and I have fought my share.

I have been blessed with the having the luck and opportunity to land so many large fish. But, I can honestly say I have only caught two fish in the 30 pound range in all of my years, both on the PM.

I had one on this fall that was probably close to that and after fighting it for only about a minute, it came out of the water, not even a full jump as if to tease me. It was a big old red male the size I hadn't seen all season and I had it on my line. When my son and I saw the fish we both audibly gasped at it's size. We were just about to leave and I was in my fishing frenzy mode where I cannot leave. Ten more casts I tell myself and I have this crazy system that if I hook one in that ten casts I get twenty five more. This fish was hooked on number 9! The fight was over seconds after the partial jump as i felt several hard head shakes then.....slack. My thundering heart sank as I turned to my son to say "He's gone". We didn't see the brute again even after fishing for another half hour or so. All rules went out the window as the chance to catch such a fish, even at the wrath of my wife for being home later than promised. Praise her kind soul for staying with me for me frequent tardies!

Big Red as I named the monster King that I lost that day did not even compare to the real King of the PM I had met years before.

Somethings you can remember so well that even years later, the details are so fondly etched in our memories that time has a hard time eroding. It was mid-September and my favorite time to be on the river. The morning was cool and the sun had long since burnt the fog off of the river. My favorite hole wasn't as full of fish as I had hoped for. I had seen some fisherman a little ways downstream with fish on all through the morning. I had heard them yelling like the Michigan Wolverines just scored the go ahead touchdown against the hated Ohio State Buckeyes. I wondered at what all of the commotion was about and decided to head down and chat with my peers.

It isn't unusual that I fish alone and this day was no exception. Many of my friends have obligations greater than fishing, mostly involving children, work or family. I am a pretty outgoing person and can strike up a conversation pretty easily. It is one of my secrets to being a good fisherman. Don't be afraid to talk to other fisherman because they may willing give you the information you need to have an awesome day or leave the river skunked.

There were three guys fishing a deep run behind several beds. Two of them were standing in the river looking into the fast but clear water. The other fisherman sat on edge of an undercut bank like he would be sitting in a lawn chair. He was holding his rod in his lap and I could see he was shaking his head. Just before I was just behind them the fisherman who was sitting stood up and dropped a half dozen expletives as he threw his fly rod into the woods. He noticed me and apologized for the language. I am rarely offended so it was really no big deal. He told me how the Bronze Giant finally had gotten the best of him and broke his rod. He just had it replaced because the same fish broke his rod the day before.

I have seen fish break rods on several occasions, but I had never heard of the same fish breaking two quality rods on back to back days. While pondering the truth of the statement one of his pals excitedly shouted over the rushing sound of the river "He's back! He's Back" as the two fisherman in the river started casting. I looked to where they were fishing and saw a large coppery colored King. He was a lighter hue than the other Salmon spawning in the area, but often much of his back came out of the water from his massive girth as he shot out of the hole and onto one of the beds nearby to take his spot near a vacant female. The two fisherman cast again and again and talked excitedly. From their conversations I gathered the fish was very aggressive and each of them had fought him at least once.I did not talk for several minutes as I watched this behemoth in the water as it chased away much smaller Kings, some of them over twenty pounds. Yes, you heard that right, the other males over twenty pounds were MUCH smaller. I had never seen a king so large. I had caught a couple 30's and a lot of 25's, but nothing compared to this. I heard from the other three fisherman that he had to be over 40. I am often a doubter of many fisherman's stories, but this I could not doubt as I saw this fish with my own eyes.

The big King was definitely the dominant fish in the group and it chased away everything that came close to him and his partner. This is the hope of any fly fisherman with spawning fish is that they strike from aggression to remove the fly from their area. It did not take long for this monster fish to hold up to it's reputation as it grabbed the fly of the downstream fisherman and started to thrash and swirl as it felt the barb of the hook in its mouth as it backed off the bed. The fisherman pulled back hard on his rod and yelled "FISH!!!!" as he felt the steady pressure of the fish on the end of his line. I heard two sounds next, a fly reel drag screaming at the top of its lungs and the fisherman yelling "NO! NO! NO!" as the fish turned and ran hard downstream, through the logs at the back of the run without slowing. Everyone there knew the fight was already over, but the guy kept his rod up hoping against hope. The fish jumped again and again each time farther and farther away until we could see the backing coming out of the reel. I didn't even have the fish on and my adrenaline was pumping hard. The guy with the fish started to cuss as soon as his line went slack and as he pulled his line in we saw the fish took all of his fly line as well. They decided they had enough with a broken rod, some lost line and some bruised egos. I talked to them for a few minutes as they packed up and they wished me "good luck" if the fish did come back.

I sat on the bank where the fisherman with the broken rod was moments before and decided to use my time wisely. I drank some water and had some beef jerky before retying with a new leader. I decided to go with 12 lb Maxima chameleon. Normally I never go above 10 lb., but this was an unusual circumstance. I tied on my all time favorite fly back at the time. My weapon of choice was a  size 6 B&O.

This had been my lucky fly that had I caught both of my 30lb fish on. I stood up and decided to watch the river for a few minutes when I saw that familiar coppery brown torpedo shoot up from out of the depths of the dark hole. I was surprised to find out that no fly line trailed behind the fish. I slowly stepped into the river and walked towards where the other fisherman had cast from towards the trophy King. As I unhooked my fly from the hook keeper I noticed that my hand was shaking. Calm, cool, and collected is often how I think of myself when Salmon and Steelhead fishing, but I was no where near being calm. I had my chance and I was prepared for the fight of a lifetime. I was short casting making sure to avoid the female and trying to draw the big male into a strike. On the second cast the big King moved a good 3 feet to just stared down my fly and floated back several feet before returning to the females side. My heart was thundering in my chest in anticipation of the strike that didn't come. The very next cast the Copper Locomotive wasn't playing around and moved ahead to literately pound my fly in what I could only describe as a vicious shark attack. The fish shot past the bed and was moving upstream with my fly in it's mouth as I gave a clumsy hook set and the hook was buried past the barb. The sheer power I felt was daunting as I realized this fish was like Muhammad Ali of all Salmon. I could feel it surging upstream shaking its head like it wasn't trying to loose the fly, but trying to kill the intruder.

Holding my rod high as the fish took drag at a steady rate it shot towards the opposite shore and on the otherwise of a small island. When fish get cocky with me I get cocky right back. Lumber doesn't scare me, but when I could feel my line rubbing as the fish went upstream from the island, I thought to myself " Oh, Hell no!" and gave chase. The water was shallow and I ran to the edge of the island where my line was running. The fish continued to jump upstream as I dunked the tip of my rod under the timber. I was able to pass my rod underwater and grab it on the other side as the fish had already gotten to the same hole I had vacated just a short while before. I almost had a cocky swagger as I gained line as I walked upstream to the hole. It was virtually snag free and it was an ideal place to land a fish with a nice sandy beach. I felt like i was sucker punched as I let myself have false hope as my line slacked and I could see the spray of water coming off my line as it bowed towards me as the fished sped past. This was bad new, very bad indeed. I tried in vain to recover the slack line to keep the fish from snapping as the line tightened. I pointed my rod downstream to lessen the shock and let the fish pull drag easier. When the line tightened the fish started to run again in the same path it took upstream, right past the island. When the line was taunt the fish felt the hook and it turned into a psycho acrobat, jumping and somersaulting a half dozen times before my line went slack. I reeled in my line to find my hook had actually broke in half right behind the eye. I use good quality hooks and have never had that happen, but I had never faced an opponent quite like this before either.

The battle was exhilarating as I had run up and downstream after the fish. My skill held tight and so did my resolve as I figured on a faulty hook. I was ready for round two!

I went to my resting spot to snip off the remains of my last fly. I retied the same size and pattern since it seemed to work effectively. The big brown King took it's time returning. I figured it had taken a large amount of energy to jump all over the river, especially with me chasing it. I grew impatient waiting and fished in the run just below the redds where several females were. I caught two other males of significant size that had renewed my confidence somewhat. Almost after an hour I finally saw the big bruiser return from the depths and hooked a female  that my fly drifted to close to. She slid downstream and was fairly easy to land for her size.

I wanted to land her quickly as to not scare the fish I targeted. I was worried that after being gone so long the big bruiser would be skittish and run off. After a few casts he was back up to his old tricks scaring the other smaller males away. I still had on a B&O that was working quite well on the other fish as well. I was persistent with my presentation getting closer to the male hoping he would strike. A good fifteen minutes had gone by and I was excited from the anticipation of an upcoming strike. I made a cast that went past the fish and mended my line in for fear of accidentally foul hooking such a large fish. I knew the fly was near him when I seen him drifting backwards shaking his head. I reefed hard hoping I wouldn't pull the hook out. I was rewarded with a screaming drag as the fish headed downstream this time, to the same log pile the other fisherman lost it on. My luck wasn't any better as the fish tore large amounts of line as it sped downstream and through the pile of submerged timber. My heart sank as I could feel that my line was dragging on something and thought it would break right away. I ran towards the pile keeping my line slack hoping for a miracle. I could see the log I was wrapped. It was a branch hanging down in the water and my line was inches from the edge. I was trying to push the tip of my pole out to the branch, but the fish would have none of it as it keep heading downstream. I kept getting closer to the end of the branch, but I was skidding farther into the hole which was close to the top of my waders. I was in no real danger because the gravel bottom  became shallow quickly as you went downstream. I thrust my right arm out as far as it would go and my 10ft, 8 weight fly rod just cleared the branch. I was free of the log!


I reeled down and pulled back hard on the fish and it just went crazy again. This was one wild beast of a fish. Never have a I felt a fish pull so hard. Several times I thought I might loose my rod and gripped it harder than normal. The fish was too far downstream for me to chase and was going to go around the next bend on me when I decided to drop my rod and strip line out fast. This trick sometimes works because fish fight away from the pressure.The slack in the line will cause it to drag behind the fish creating pressure from the back. I waited patiently hoping the fish would head upstream.I was slowly reeling in line and watching the river in front of me to see and signs of the fish. My line caught up to him just as he was just downstream from me. he was closer than I expected and he shot upstream a mere couple of feet from me. It was then I got a good close look at him and even spotted some flies on him. On the far bank was a particularly nasty jam of logs and he took off right for it. I knew if he got there it was over and I put rod, reel and leader to the test as I fought hard to keep him out. We fought back and forth in the deep run with the fish getting the upper hand. I knew he was tiring because he hadn't jumped in awhile and it seemed that I actually had a chance of landing him. I even had a few moments where I had him close enough to see. My net was upstream by the bank and there was nowhere to beach him. My best shot was to tail him. I worked him back several times just out of reach. I figured I had one good shot. My opportunity never came. I'm not sure if he got a surge of energy or he saw me in the water, but he took off again upstream jumping all the way, right through the timber we went through on the way down. Again my line was rubbing then, nothing. I reeled fast hoping the fish turned, but it just broke my leader.

I was out of breath as I walked back to sulk on the bank. At least I had a legitimate chance at a fish that weighed close to 40. I actually had two chances! Oh well, I figured I would come back the next day and try my luck again. When I arrived early in the morning, there were the three other fisherman from the day before, but no bronzed bruiser. I told them of my encounters the day before and we all had a good chuckle. We all had taken turns at a monster of a fish that was a willing fighter and we all lost miserably. I still remember those days well as I have not seen a fish of that size these many years since we last met.

The Great Salmon Hunter

One of the best fishing buddies I ever had was one I didn't expect. He was very young when I took him out on the river. The first time was almost the last because at a young ago he was a wild beast and often did what he wanted or tried to....

Sitting in the back of the truck.

I didn't want to leave him alone and desperately wanted to get some Salmon fishing in. Although I was just starting to train him, I figured he was still small and manageable...

Oh he sure looked cute....

Let me introduce you to Samson. Don't let his cuteness fool you! He is a Yellow Lab, which are. notorious for being hyper crazy demonoid puppies until they are 2-3 years old regardless of the best training.

So I took this sweet, cute, adorable thing up north with me. I went to Ivan's in Baldwin and picked out a campground site. Yeah I was really brave and figured I would stay in a two man ultralight tent. He didn't know what we were doing, but he was VERY excited to be away from the house. It was the first week of  September and I hadn't been up to the river yet. Depending on the weather the fishing could be spotty or full on early on this river. We were headed to the Pere Marquette.

I wanted to scout the river a bit to see where I would be fishing the next morning.I brought a 12 foot cable that I could tie him off to a tree near me if I found some fish and he couldn't behave. I immediately found some early fish and they were already starting to make redds. I saw a couple of females in the shallow gravel with some males fighting each other already. the hole below the beds was LOADED with fish. There were a good 30-40 plus fish. The hole wasn't really that big, but it was deep. It was perfect for some early kings especially since the water was gin clear.

This was Samson's first fishing experience and he  could see the large Kings swimming around. He was beside himself with excitement. I managed to tie him off to a tree very close to me. He had access to the waters edge and was pushing the cable to its limit to be close to me and the fish. He begged me to let him free so he could swim and chase the spawning fish. He was whining and looking at me with that cute little puppy dog face. you know, the kind that melts your heart and makes you want to give in to them. Are you crazy! This is time to catch some early fish and that's exactly what I intended to do.

I put on an egg sucking leech and let it drift from behind the beds into the dark hole. Many of the fish were splashing the top of the water and jumping all around which only mad Samson get more and more excited. He was running back and forth in a semi circle, back and forth again and again. I stopped fishing to go by him to calm him down which made him just jump on me. I had the distinct smell of wet dog on me know as I had slobber all over my vest and hands.

Unsuccessful in my attempt to console him. I went back into the water with the intent on at least getting a couple hook ups before it started getting dark. I made a few casts then felt a very light thump on my rod. I pulled back hard as the hook sank into the the jaw of a particularly large and feisty King Salmon. The silver locomotive with scales responded by rocketing skyward in a series of  leaps and jumps. This fresh male spawner took off upstream as my drag started to scream in protest. My heart pounded as the this monster headed for a log jam upstream still jumping.

Samson was behind me and I could see out of the corner of my eye he was in a frenzy as he watched the Salmon jumping and heading upstream. He was mimicking the fish by jumping high into the air while chained to the tree. I was trying to concentrate on my runaway fish when I saw Samson bolt past me and run along the bank until he was near the fish. He was just barely 6 months old, but jumped like a seasoned pro at one of those water dog contests. He landed upstream of the fish a good 10 feet into the river. My mind was still trying to register this craziness when my line went slack as the fish responded to the large mass landing in the water in front of it by immediately heading downstream. I cranked down on the fish just as it was swimming by me. I got a good look at the fish as it swam by. It was a very large male and fresh as they come. I pointed my rod downstream so the fish wouldn't snap the line. When my line started to peel off the reel again. I saw my goofy dog leisurely swimming around the pool that held the fish in it.

Labs are bred for the water and can swim almost effortlessly. Their webbed feet make for great flippers as they can swim faster than one can imagine. Samson had almost forgotten the fish on my line as he was letting the current push him downstream. that was until he saw the fish on the beds. To say he went crazy would be a great understatement. He went absolutely bonkers. He was chasing everything he saw and was even putting his head underwater trying to get the fish. The Salmon responded in the only way they knew how when it seems a predator large enough to chomp into one is near. They swam for their lives in all directions.

I was still fighting my fish that had gone down to another hole just downstream before I was able to turn it from its run. For a brief moment I thought I had an edge. The fish was definitely hooked in the mouth as I could tell by it's aggressive head shakes. I was able to hold the fish from going farther downstream for a few short seconds when I felt a bump on my leg. I looked down to see Samson looking at me with his tongue hanging out and I could swear he was smiling. It was as if he wanted me to acknowledge that he did something I wanted by chasing all of the fish away. Well I still had the one on and we could come back tomorrow. It might take a whole night for the fish to settle down after the ruckus.

Some moments in life happen so quickly, but everything can seem to move in slow motion. I heard the fish jump downstream as well as felt the surging fly rod in my right hand as I was still looking at my waterlogged fish hunter. I could see his eyes light up as he saw the fish again and then he was gone. He was running full speed in the shallow water along the bank and jumped into the hole my fish was still jumping in. Once Samson landed the Salmon headed straight for Lake Michigan. It was all over but the crying. I could feel my line running across a log or large rock as Samson took chase before my rod went limp in my hand. I knew I had lost the fish and was worried that I might also loose my dog. I could hear barking around the bend and hoped he didn't ruin another fisherman's day by spooking everything around.

I set my rod on the bank and crossed the river trying to head him off. I was calling to him as loud as I could when I saw him running towards me, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and black muck all over him. I was just wondering where he had found all the mud when he reached the shore and jumped on me in his excitement. Besides the slobber now I had some fetid swamp muck all over. I was angry for a few seconds until I could see how utterly happy he was. He was running and splashing all around me, with more excitement than a kid on Christmas Eve. I could feel my anger drain out of me as I said "what in the world is wrong with you!" He tilted his head in that curious way he always did. He must have slipped his collar somewhere so I turned towards the other bank and said " Come on goof ball!"

On the way back to the campground. The car smelled of wet dog and swamp muck. Although it is not a good smell, it brings back memories.

Samson turned into a great partner for fishing. He eventually calmed down and loved to go to the river with me every chance I got. He also loved to swim in the pool. If I was in it he had to be too. I was worried that he would get in it somehow when I was at work and taught him how to climb out on the ladder. It took one try and almost every hot day he would swim all day and watch the yard from the deck of the pool as the sun and chlorine turned his coat almost white. When he really needed to burn off some energy I would take him to the pond down the street. I would hit a tennis ball and he would swim to the middle and get it. He was almost tireless and I would have to make him take breaks so he wouldn't over do it. One would think the winter months would be a time of reprieve. But,as much as he loved the water he loved the snow just as much.

Samson always entered and left the pool in the same spot.

He sure loved to swim, and chase Salmon!

Posing with the bat and tennis ball after a long session of swimming.

Not only was Samson a great fishing companion, he was a great protector for my kids when I wasn't around. When my daughter was born, he would not leave her side. He slept in her room on the floor and was constantly near her. Not once did he even show his teeth when she would pull his ears and hair and even poked him in the eye.

He sure loved his kids!

He has been gone for a couple years now, but I still miss him dearly. A friend of mine lent me the book Marley and Me which I couldn't read very far. Marley reminded me too much of my loyal pal. Watching the movie with my kids just about killed me, there wasn't a dry eye between us.

Farewell my friend, you will always be missed and never forgotten. I hope you get to chase big Salmon wherever you are....