Chuck's Stub

Anyone who has been around fishermen much has heard tales of “the one that got away”. Many of those blatantly questionable stories remind me of a hat my husband has. It says across the front: “How can you tell when a fisherman is lying? Watch his lips. If they move, he is lying.” Stories of close calls and monster fish seem to grow exponentially with each telling.

The tale of Chuck’s Stub, however, is one I can absolutely document.

This past August, Larry and I went to Alaska to do some long dreamed of fishing on the Kenai Peninsula with our good friends from Wenatchee, Chuck & Pat Butcherite. We had a fabulous time white water rafting up by Denali and enjoyed our time exploring around Anchorage. However, the real focus of the trip was to be the fishing.

Now, keep in mind that I am not much of an angler. I’ve been on many a fishing trip with Larry where I spent most of the time with my nose in a book, just happy to be with my man in the great out of doors. But this time we were all scheduled to pull in some big ones. So we went out on our charter boat and started pulling in halibut. We caught several decent sized fish, no real monsters, but some respectable specimens that would give us many a fine dinner.

Then our captain moved the boat to take us to where the salmon were supposed to be. Because we were late in the season, the only salmon available were silvers, and none of those we caught were all that big. But we all had a good time pulling in fish, taking our turns doing battle with the rod and reel.

Then, finally, Chuck hooked into what WOULD have been the catch of the day. It was a beautiful king salmon. The fish’s body was glistening as he brought it to the surface. We were all cheering him on, thrilled that at least one of our party had finally hooked a king. Then, just as he reeled it in closer to the boat, a HUGE brown shadow came following, rose to the surface and BIT THE SALMON RIGHT OFF HIS LINE.

It was a salmon shark, somewhere between five or six feet long, and one nasty looking critter if I do say so myself. Our captain stood there at the edge of his vessel; waving his hands in the air saying: “Shoo! Shoo! Get away!” as if that would do any good. But it was too late. The shark took the fish, leaving us standing there scratching our heads with our mouths gaping. All we had left of it was a mangled fraction we affectionately referred to from that point on as “Chuck’s Stub”.

Larry and I ate remnants of what we were able to salvaged from the stub. It was quite delicious. Too bad the shark got the rest of it. Even though we missed getting any pictures of the shark itself, we did capture an image of the stub for all posterity, and have witnesses to tell the tale. So if any of you happen to be fishing in the waters around the Kenai – beware of sharks.