August 26, 2000. The people of Petersburg Alaska are friendly, and display a natural sense of hospitality. After we spent one night at the local hotel, they insisted that we check out of there and move in with them. Scott's uncle was kind enough to lend us a boat, and after we had cleaned it and prepped the outboards for our fishing trip, we headed out to the slough for an evening session in his old red Ford pickup.

Spunky is always in the back, smiling and panting and leaning out into the wind, checking out every passing vehicle to see if he knows anyone, and barking at the deer. As a result of a couple dunkings in the Narrows (the emergency brake is history), the floorboards and bed of the truck are rusted out. As I rode in the back with Spunky, I adjusted the rods and reels to make sure nothing fell out throught the rust holes.

When we got to the slough and wet our lines, I immediately hooked a couple feisty trout and Scott landed and released a nice 14" rainbow. We fished downstream to where the tide was coming in, using spinners and spoons. Before long, Joyce and Hank had each battled and landed two feisty cohos that were FOO...fresh out of the ocean.

I was anxious to land my first silver, and whipped the water to a froth with my Pixee spoon, which I prefer because I can cast it so far. Finally I hooked up, and the water before me exploded. The fish jumped once, twice, three times, then ran down the pool so far I thought it would spool me. I yelled downstream to Joyce so she could reel in and give me room. She wanted to keep fishing, and shouted back, "Just reel him in!" Ha...that's a good one. I couldn't budge him. He was just too strong, and unwilling to give back any line.

I tried moving downstream toward him, stumbling over the wet, seaweed-covered boulders, and gingerly tightening my drag as I went. The next time that salmon decided to run, I was toast. My 8-pound line snapped and he was gone.

As the tide flooded into the slough, fish were jumping and rolling everywhere. In typical southeast Alaska fashion, the rain was almost incessant, and when it did stop, the noseeums came out in hungry swarms, crawling into my scalp and biting. I prayed for the rain to return.

Another silver struck. Immediately he jumped high and straight toward me, throwing the hook. By then it was too dark, and the tide was too high, so we retreated to higher ground and the warmth of the old red Ford truck. Spunky, who perhaps was a bit wiser then us, was already there and waiting.

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