THE BIG LEBOWSKI
"We're talking about unchecked aggression, here!"
The island and channel labyrinth of Rivers Inlet could be accurately described as rocks, trees and water surrounded by rocks trees and water.
The following statements appears on Legacy Lodge's letterhead: "The coho or silver salmon, are notorious for their wild, fast and erratic fight. Coho will double their weight in the six months prior to spawning. The coho in Rivers Inlet are among the largest in the world." These plain, simple declaritive remarks are not only accurate, but come close to saying it all. What they don't say is just how much sheer frothy fun you can have fishing for coho. True, to serious big-game hunters, like the Herzogs, coho are a distraction, and interference, indeed, almost a damned nuisance. But to the rest of us frivolous souls, bustling pods of coho are no less than a party waiting to happen.
During one particularly memorable session of coho-ho-hoing near the south shelf of Calvert Island, shoals of baitfish appeared in such profusion they were bursting at the ocean's seams, spraying out of the chop and pelting the surface like an upside-down rain. The squirming masses of baitfish were so thick you could actually smell them, a scent not unlike a freshly opened bottle of cold-pressed olive oil. Needless to say, the coho were right behind. It didn't take long to surmise that the fishing was gloing to be fast-and-furious when I threaded a herring onto the hook, casually dropped it over the transom and, before I could let go of the line, found myself instantly tethered to a thrashing silver. I can see it now—bumbling outdoor writer discovers revolutionary new coho angling technique: hand-lining herring.
During the typical changeover day at Legacy Lodge there's just enough leeway to get packed and ready for the afternoon flight out, and still manage to wedge in a quick morning's bout of fishing. Nothing too ambitious or too distant from the lodge, mind you. But maybe time for one or two fish—just enough to take the edge off. Fortunately for those of us who happened to be at the lodge that week—and unfortunately for the lodge staff—the waters of Rivers Inlet provided benevolent, if not downright magnanimous. Everybody and his cousin Pewee bloated ridiculous quantities of salmon. So many salmon, both kings and coho, came into the dock that morning that Sean, the fish cutter, had little choice but to bend to the task with demonic resolve. Like it or not, Sean became the star—the psycho-antagonist in his own unrehearsed horror classic. Knives. Blood. The insistent whispering sslilth of steel passing through flesh. The fish-preparation station ended up resembling a spine-curdling scene from Nightmare on Elm Street.
There, I did it again. I cranked out another allusion to Hollywood. But, hey, no apologies. After all, as has often been said of the movie business, Rivers Inlet and the fishing to be found there is bigger than life. The Dude abides.
Schools of chinook salmon begin staging in remote reaches of coastal B.C. almost due north of Vancouver Island.
No Lawn Bowling
Legacy Lodge (877-347-4534, www.legacylodge.com) resides in a protected cove on the interior side of Pendleton Island in Darby Channel, within easy reach of wide savannas of saltwater interrupted here and there by impossibly rugged protrusions of rock, tree-studded islands and nothing much but weather and distance between. It's a truly wild place. The lodge complex—consisting of an intimate arrangement of buildings—is entirely suspended on floats. Both figuratively and physically, there's little room for a rousing game of horseshoes, croquet or badminton. Legacy Is All About The Fishing.
Of the handful of lodges scattered about the fringes of Rivers Inlet, you wouldn't necessarily choose Legacy Lodge because it caters to all ages, taking special delight in couples (whether man and wife, parent and child, or simpatico angling buddies) and in kids with a yen for the outdoors; nor would you necessarily choose Legacy based upon the unflagging cheeriness and efficiency of the staff; nor for the food which is prepared with an artistry dangerous to one's waistline; nor would you necessarily choose this lodge because of the quality and meticulous condition of the equipment. No. If for no other reason, you would choose Legacy Lodge because of the superiority of its boats—custom-built Scout 175s (17.5-foot), propelled with gusty 60 HP four-stroke Yamaha outboards. These are the most stable, responsive, intuitive-to-operate and angling-ergonomic marine craft I've ever encountered. The perfect conveyance for self-guided salmon forays. How perfect? As primarily a river-wading type angler, I'd be the first to admit that I don't know a motorboad from a bratwurst. Yet within minutes of receiving the standard orientation/instruction, I was zipping along full-tilt-boogey, tongue hanging in the breeze like a dog in a '65 red Cadillac convertible.
The lodge is small. The fish are big. The arithmetic stands comfortable.
