The Unwitting Hypocrite

Fishing is a pretty hypocritical sport. And no fisherman is more ridiculously hypocritical than me. For starters, I have a habit of casually bashing species that I haven't caught to make up for my disappointment of not having done so. Once I eventually manage to catch said species, I have a "change of heart." Case in point: The "Great White Sturgeon."

Although I consider sturgeon among my favorite species, I didn't always have these sentiments. My first two sturgeon outings had both been at the most inopportune days out of the year (since when has a record-breaking flood occurred during a snowstorm??), and I made myself feel better by likening them to "overgrown catfish" and their fighting abilities to "hauling a log off of the bottom." Since then, I have had a change of heart, focusing my efforts on bashing a myriad of other species including bonefish, carp, and Humpback Whales.

Totally overrated fighters. 

I hesitate to write about sturgeon again because my last post on these particular fish was thoroughly ribbed by many of my friends and associates in the ensuing weeks, likely due to the word "stalwart" (click here) being used. Before I start ranting about how it is a perfectly normal word and how there's nothing wrong with it, I'd like to show everyone a picture of one of the biggest sturgeon caught earlier today. Now this is a truly stalwart fish.

Yes, I said the s-word.

Although steelhead-blinded fishermen up here in Oregon often see sturgeon as an afterthought to their quarry of choice, they are still very highly regarded sportfish. For many anglers not in the PNW, they fall in the "dream category," a.k.a.  fish-I'd-someday-like-to-catch-but-likely-never-will (for me that category includes tarpon, permit, and a bluegill that doesn't make everyone present laugh). The prospect of catching a fish larger than your boat, and the prospect that even bigger ones are still down there swimming is one that appeals to a multitude of anglers. Although sturgeon fishing is usually done either from shore or from one of those metal Clackacraft boats synonymous with untrimmed goatees, trucker hats, and grimy Washington State sweaters, I usually do it out of a kayak.

Because a Cabelas hat and Kroakies are EXTREME.

Kayak fishing for sturgeon isn't anything original or new. Lots of people have been doing it for years before me. However, the concept of fishing for for giant-ass prehistoric fish of an unstable, tippy piece of plastic is still something a lot of people are unfamiliar with.

They did, but were too busy writing me a ticket for "partially lifting an oversize sturgeon from the water."

There are also positive reactions to my hobby. Not everyone who are encountered with kayak fishermen are compelled to shout ethnic slurs and boast about their intentions to harm them (maybe that's just me). Many people are impressed or at least intrigued by kayak fishing, and some even want to try it. However, there is one inevitable reaction that makes me groan to the core.

"Dude, that's sick! That's like EXTREME kayak fishing, bro!"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Until then, you can all look at a picture of me from six years ago pretending I'm on deadliest catch.

It was then when I realized that, despite my reservations, I had unwittingly become a member of the "extreme" kayak fishing scene. I mean, there are an alarming number of similarities between what I and hundreds of other kayak sturgeon anglers do and what you read about in kayak fishing magazines. 

For starters, the quarry tend to be on the larger size. Of course, I have a knack for catching shakers on even the largest of baits, but sturgeon are at least supposed to get large. The same applies for the Tuna and Kingfish that the extreme kayakers catch. In fact, the sturgeon have the capabilities to grow even larger.

There's also the "extreme" aspect that concerns everything else. Being dragged around the river while the guys anchored in their Clackacrafts guffaw from their cushioned swivel seats. Having to distance cast with rods that resemble oversized electric cattle prods. Using baits around the same size as the fish I normally like to target. And of course, there's the constant reminder that horsing a sturgeon of any decent size in will likely result in a tail to the face.

This fish decided that he wanted to jump about three feet away from the boat.

But I honestly don't fish for sturgeon to be "extreme." I even feel stupid calling it that, really. For me, fishing out of a kayak presents an easier and cheaper alternative to owning and maintaining a boat, while gaining access to virtually the same water. It also provides numerous challenges, especially with the fighting of fish. A sturgeon hooked from a normal boat is definitely a challenge to land, but it's a completely different matter from a kayak. I mean, one of my more recent five foot sturgeon (not large at all) hooked in the Gilbert River dragged me upstream and downstream, jumped three times (once five feet away from the boat), got tangled up in my rudder, and whacked my kayak with his tail, nearly knocking it over. The unusual chaos of that particular fight might have had to do with the fact that I was also trying to film myself and fix my drag at the same time, but it goes to show how powerful these fish are. 

All in all, I guess I might have made myself an unwitting hypocrite. Despite jealously and spitefully rallying against the concept of "extreme" kayak fishing for years, I had been obliviously doing just that in my own backyard. Although I'll never call fishing for these gentle giants "extreme," it is fun to look at yourself in the same light as the suntanned surfers in Florida and California who wrestle similarly-sized brutes from the same type of watercraft as me. Instead of trying to be them and traveling to far-reaching states, countries, and waters in search of the biggest and most aggressive fish, I much rather enjoy the idea of focusing my efforts on the species available to me here in Portland, Oregon. When I say this, I'm thinking about trout and warm water fish from the dozens of lakes and ponds, Salmon and Steelhead in our many rivers during the semiannual runs they undertake, bottom fish from the nearby coast, crab from the estuaries and tidal rivers, and of course, sturgeon from the Columbia and Willamette. I think that doing this is a better respect to the sport of kayak fishing than anything labeled as "extreme," and so do the hundreds of anglers that call this area home. 

Don't be that guy,

Pocahontas