We saw some Pink kept in the pools of their own making by the shore. They might have been planning to hav e them cooked at their accommodations or to freeze them back home. The water pools indicated that this kind of fishing was supposed to stay at a desirable point for some time, not only for hooking but also landing, and wait for the salmon to swim up, not to chase. Along our way, we got some glimpses of the emerging dorsal fins out of clear and shimmering water. We chose a wide and smooth stream, deep and wide enough to swim our spoon of 25g with a big single hook.
Fishing here is very special.
I made a cast right across the stream, gave it an adequate line slack to sink the lure to the river bed and took up the slack as I felt the lure started swimming across the rocked bottom. I knew targets were posing behind the hidden rocks with their spouse resting their fins for the long journey to the far upper stream to spawn. I make it rule to give it a jerk just in case, whenever I feel anything at the end of the line. It was just a right pull. The line suddenly ran upstream so first that the air cut into the water along the taut line, reel making a squeaking noise.