Plan B was a small river in Washington state with a run of chum (or dog) salmon. It had been over 10 years since I had fished for chums, and I was looking forward to doing battle with them. As with most salmon fishing, timing is everything. A week can make the difference between feast or famine. I drove the maze of logging roads trying to find the turnoff that would eventually lead me to the head of tidewater on this small coastal river. There was one problem. I didn't recognize a thing. As with most forestland in the northwest, things are in a constant state of change. All of the ground I had driven through a decade ago (to fish this river) had been logged and was in various stages of regrowth. Eventually I found the river, but I was a long ways above tidewater. The fish were there, and lots of them. But, the river at this point was very small and did not offer much in the way of sport while battling these large fish. Not knowing how far above tide I actually was, I packed my lunch into my fishing vest and headed downriver. After a solid hour's hike through the dense coastal brush, I found the head of tide. The wind was still blowing a gale, and the leaves looked like a yellow blizzard. Fish were restless and rolling as the tide surged inland. I tied on a simple polar bear winged, green fly and began the cast and strip routine through the murky tidewater. Almost instantly I was rewarded with a jerking strike. The large buck came to the surfaced and thrashed for a second before starting in a searing run. These big chum salmon really put up a fight, especially fresh fish on the tide. After a hard battle I admired the faint maroon and green color of his sides and sent him on his way to complete his mission. Luckily I would repeat this same scenario over a dozen times this day. But best of all....... I didn't see another soul fishing. Today my only chums.....were Dogs.
Friday morning found me heading to the coast. My original intent was to fish for searun cutthroat. These ocean going trout can be a fantastic fishery, being very aggressive in their home rivers. Arriving at a known searun river at daylight, fishing a known searun haunt, I found no love. The river had dropped to summertime lows. The only sign of fish were the dead carcasses of chinook salmon that had spawned a month ago. The water was slow, deep and tannic stained. I casted and stripped a black reverse spider half heartedly. The wind was picking up speed, sending a shower of leaves into the river that fowled almost every cast I made. Eventually the wind picked up enough speed to make casting the 4wt. all but impossible. I knew it was time to admit defeat. I trugged back to the car and decided to go for "plan B".
Plan B was a small river in Washington state with a run of chum (or dog) salmon. It had been over 10 years since I had fished for chums, and I was looking forward to doing battle with them. As with most salmon fishing, timing is everything. A week can make the difference between feast or famine. I drove the maze of logging roads trying to find the turnoff that would eventually lead me to the head of tidewater on this small coastal river. There was one problem. I didn't recognize a thing. As with most forestland in the northwest, things are in a constant state of change. All of the ground I had driven through a decade ago (to fish this river) had been logged and was in various stages of regrowth. Eventually I found the river, but I was a long ways above tidewater. The fish were there, and lots of them. But, the river at this point was very small and did not offer much in the way of sport while battling these large fish. Not knowing how far above tide I actually was, I packed my lunch into my fishing vest and headed downriver. After a solid hour's hike through the dense coastal brush, I found the head of tide. The wind was still blowing a gale, and the leaves looked like a yellow blizzard. Fish were restless and rolling as the tide surged inland. I tied on a simple polar bear winged, green fly and began the cast and strip routine through the murky tidewater. Almost instantly I was rewarded with a jerking strike. The large buck came to the surfaced and thrashed for a second before starting in a searing run. These big chum salmon really put up a fight, especially fresh fish on the tide. After a hard battle I admired the faint maroon and green color of his sides and sent him on his way to complete his mission. Luckily I would repeat this same scenario over a dozen times this day. But best of all....... I didn't see another soul fishing. Today my only chums.....were Dogs.
charley
11/2/2011 04:34:18 am
Priceless! Comments are closed.
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