Some Hawk And Some Gawk At Northwest Game Fish Show

At first the air purifier booth seemed an odd fit for the sportman’s show.

But there was good reason to have the fresh-air folks at last weekend’s annual Northwest Game Fish Show at the Interstate Fairgrounds.

Nearby, another display booth featured a 24-pound mackerel - dead, eyes bulging, ripe-smelling - flopped limply atop an ice chest.

Actually, a good many of the exhibitors trying to reel in gawkers at the annual Northwest Game Fish Show had only marginal connections to trout.

Take Daphne Lewis, who was busy trumping the benefits of Mary Kay cosmetics. She admits pitching foundation amidst fishermen has its downfalls.

“I get teased a lot,” Lewis said. “Guys ask me if I have any deer scent.”

Sorry, she had no buck lure. But Lewis said the sponsoring Spokane Walleye Club loves to have her around. The idea was to give the whole family something to do, while the sports types talked about flies.

That would make Nancy Rust kind of a bridge-builder. The part-time taxidermist’s specialty is giving makeovers to the fish.

“I know they’re false, but most people don’t,” Nancy Rust said, talking about the plastic fish heads some of her subjects wind up with. She also takes molds of the fish’s teeth, and replaces the original chompers with a set made from Bond-O.

After gutting a fish, she encases the catch of the day in clear plastic, giving it that forever-wet look. Then she mounts them to chunks of driftwood, and wha-la.

Her glistening-gilled creations look alive, all right. So much so, Rust worries about advertising too much.

“I’m retired,” she said. “I’m too old to be skinning 200 fish a year.”

Moms and dads looked at power boats. Kids looked at model ones instead. The Spokane Model Boat Club showed off giant ships and submarine models, even sent them for spins in a huge wooden trough.

“There’s a lot of dee-tail,” observed a little boy wearing a cowboy hat.

No kidding. The sub he looked at was twice as long as he was tall. “It’ll sink, fire torpedoes, everything,” beamed club member Jack Shetter.

You probably can’t fish off one, though. But it was exposure. “This is the only way we can get word out that we even exist,” said Shetter.

At the other end of the building, kids gathered around big metal tubs filled with dirt and lures. The sign above read, “Worm dig - 50 cents a scoop.”

Jesse VanSickle shoved in his coffee can, scooped up a bunch of earth, then filtered it through some metal mesh.

He came away with a whole baggie full of wriggly, fluorescent lures.

Other booths pitched fishing tours. Someone was showing off storm windows. One guy sold chamois, demonstrating it on a trunk lid removed from a Lincoln. How-to videos played. SpokAnimal was there, and so was the Sheriff’s Department, handing out flyers telling boaters the rules of the river.

Carol Svensrud’s husband had better start reading.

“He’s dreaming about boats,” she sighed. “I just let him do it.”

At the time, Stan Svensrud was gripping the handle of a huge, movie-film-can-sized fishing reel. They were designed to be mounted on the sides of boats. This one was motorized, spieled the salesman, the other one wasn’t.

“You’ve got a lifetime warranty on all of these,” he said. “Come out and see us.”

And don’t forget that air purifier for the boat house.

, DataTimes MEMO: Valley Snapshots is a regular Valley Voice feature that visits gatherings in the Valley. If you know of a good subject for this column, please call editor Mike Schmeltzer at 927-2170.