I was born in Vancouver in 1937 and have lived in Clark County most of my life. I started fly fishing with my grandpa at the age of 10 on the East Fork Lewis River.
I like listening to old-timers tell hunting and fishing stories. I tell a few stories about my experiences, and sometimes my friends act kind of funny and look the other way with a chuckle. One time a guy wanted to use one of my stories in “The Biggest Liars” contest. Ha, ha! I told him to back off, because my story was the truth!
This story is also the truth. Almost a month had passed since the eruption of Mount St. Helens. It was a bright Sunday morning and I felt very enthusiastic. “Maybe I should go fishing?”
I called a fishing buddy, Dick Hauser, and he said, “Let’s go!”
We met at Ridgefield Junction and drove north to Woodland and Beebe’s Landing, a small moorage and boat ramp a short distance from the mouth of the Lewis River.
We launched my 16-foot Alumaweld boat and headed toward the Columbia River. The tide was running out and we felt we had a good chance. We anchored next to an older gentleman in a 14-foot aluminum boat with a tattered cloth top. I had seen him fishing before.
We each had red flatfish for lures until early afternoon. “What other lures would be good?” I wondered, and Dick suggested a long leader with a hotshot. I attached one to my main line.
At 2 p.m. we were talking about the good old days when I had a strike. I grabbed the rod and said, “Fish on!” The hot shot was dangling about when the fish jumped. He sounded under the boat and made a good run. I said, “This one is a great fighter.”
Then, out of the water exploded two steelhead, jumping in different directions. A couple of seconds had gone by before I realized what had happened. The old-timer let out a roar! We threw the bouy can overboard and floated downriver. The two fish finally came together after five minutes of jumping.
“We’ll be lucky to get either one of these two fish,” Dick said. I tightened my line, and he netted one of the flatfish. I had no control over the other and it flopped around. Suddenly, the flatfish popped loose, and I reeled the other fish to the net. Dick had them both at the same time.
The people on the bank let out a roar when we picked up our anchor rope. The old-timer said, “I have been fishing here for 50 years and never saw anything like it.”
Later on, we headed back to the boat ramp and stopped to take pictures. The fish weighed 9.5 pounds apiece and measured 29.5 inches. Both were hens.
Catching two fish at the same time, on one rod, is hard to believe. The day was even more unusual because it was June 15, Father’s Day, and my birthday.
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