After five full minutes of pulling, pumping and swearing, I left the carefully tied mass of eggs looped around a barbed hook, four feet of leader, and a large sinker lying on the bottom with all the rest. ![]() Easy because, for the fifth time in the last hour, I had snagged my salmon-rigged line on some submerged obstruction. Sitting in the stern of the drift boat, it was an easy matter to let my mind wander about the tonnage of lead that must litter the bottom of the Rogue River.
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