The salmon spawn is on

After my previous fishing trip, I had planned to get out on the water as soon as possible to catch the first major wave of spawners entering the river, but life or more specifically, COVID had other plans and made sure that fishing was not in the cards for the foreseeable future. Luckily, by the time early September rolled around and the salmon spawn really got going, I was back up and running, and Dyllon and I were able to pull away for an afternoon of fishing.

A beautiful day to be on the river

Compared to our last outing, we lucked out on the weather this time and had a bluebird afternoon with the river all to ourselves, and better yet, the salmon were starting to spawn in earnest. I started out in a small side channel of the river, where a female Chinook was actively digging a redd, surrounded by five satellite males. However, after a couple of casts failed to produce any signs of trout and one of the males went after my bead rig, I decided to move on to a riffle just upstream, where Dyllon had already hooked one trout. It didn't take long for me to hook into a decent fish as well. After a short fight with plenty of jumping and several good runs, I brought a beautiful leopard-spotted native Coastal Rainbow to hand.

A beautiful, heavily spotted native Rainbow

After I released that fish, we continued to work the side channel for another 30 minutes, hooking into several other fish but only managing to land a couple of smaller trout. After covering that piece of water, we headed further upstream, but the fishing proved to be slower than usual. However, after a couple of bends, we found an area where the salmon were really packed in and started getting into some trout again.

Salmon on their redds

While we did hook into a few decent fish, we did manage to land any, but I did get one particularly interesting looking Rainbow that was dime bright and had a spotting pattern more typically of a steelhead. 

A surprisingly bright Rainbow

Several years back, it was fish similar to this one that sparked a research project was part of affectionately called the "Biggie Smalls Project," (bigger than typical stream resident Rainbows but smaller than typical steelhead) which was focused on investigating whether these mid-size (14" to 20") Rainbows were using marine waters for part of their life. For that project, we looked at the micro-chemistry of non-lethally extracted pectoral fin rays to see whether any of our sampled fish had been in marine water. What we found was that most of the Rainbows in this size class appeared to be lifelong freshwater inhabitants, with all of the fish that were definitely anadromous either being Coastal Cutthroat or Cutthroat-Rainbow hybrids. We also found that the Rainbows were able to reach their larger sizes due to marine-derived food from Pacific Salmon and other species (lamprey). However, we weren't able to fully rule out that the fish weren't doing short-term migrations between watersheds, as a recent study by Munsch et al. showed is happening, we did find some evidence of this as well, with tagged fish turning of in distant watersheds and fish from a nearby conservation hatchery end up in our watershed. Whether or not this fish was just a bright individual, a late smolt, or a marine wanderer is something I will have to scratch my head about, but it was a fun encounter.

At this point, we had covered quite a bit of water, and the sun was starting to get low in the sky, so it was time to pull ourselves away from the river, although I certainly had plans in place to return soon.

Time to hit the road

And about a week after Dyllon and I hit the river, I did indeed return, and this time was to share this fishery with a couple of my Trout Unlimited colleagues Rob and Alexei. It is always amazing what a difference a week makes during the salmon spawning season, as by this point the Chinook were starting to tail off and the Chum, while still dense and actively spawning were starting to show much more wear than they had on my previous outing.

We started off on the same section of water where Dyllon and I had started our day and as neither Alexei or Rob had fished this river before I walked them through the tactics I use and put them on some of my favorite water. While the did have several hookups, this fishing proved to be a little slower than usual.

Alexei working a good stretch of water

Before we headed upstream to try some more promising water, I decided to give one of the more challenging pieces of water where you have to get just the right cast to get your gear to drift over a bucket with thick vegetation over it. After a couple of tries, I got that drift, and right before I thought it was a dud and I was going to have to pull my gear out, my indicator shot under, and I hooked into a nice fish. While the Rainbows typically immediately shoot out of the water, this fish stayed down and deep, but wasn't afraid to take a run into the next pool downstream. However, I had a solid hookset, and after a couple of minutes, I brought a gorgeous, thick upper teens Coastal Cutthroat to the net.

My first fish of the day, a beautiful, bright native Cutthroat

Admiring my Cutthroat before release

After releasing the Cutthroat, we continued upstream to a hole where Dyllon and I had hooked a few fish the week before. I had Rob and Alexei work this spot as I really wanted to see that get into some fish and it didn't take long before Rob hooked a decent Rainbow, that despite not being on of the big ones we were looking for put up a nice fight before coming to the net.

A heavily spotted native Rainbow

After netting and releasing that first fish, I decided to play around photographing some of the salmon with an underwater housing that I got for my phone. While my phone's camera isn't the best, I was pretty happy with how the shot below turned out.

  

Chum Salmon on the spawning grounds

Releasing a Rainbow

After the fishing slowed down at this hole, we headed upstream to try one last piece of water. I had Alexei and Rob work a riffle that has been one of the best producers in my experience, while I tried a shallow riffle just upstream that has been hit or miss at best, and where I hadn't previously had any luck as flows as low as we had on this outing. However, there is a first for everything, and after a couple casts behind a late pair of spawning Chinook at the head of the riffle where the water was only about 8" to 12" deep, my indicator shot under, and I hooked into an absolutely massive Rainbow. When the fish rolled, it was so thick, I was half surprised that I hadn't seen its back sticking out of the water. After that, the fish started to run, and unfortunately, as this had been a particularly long cast, I don't think I had the best hook set, and as the fish made a head shake, my rig came fly back at me. If I had to guess I would place this fish somewhere between 23" and 25". Fish this size are a rarity in the river and I my experience typically only get one or two shots at these big Rainbows, which made losing this one hurt all the more.

After collecting myself and getting my head back in the game I decided to put another cast in where I had hooked the big Rainbow on the off chance that he might come back, after all I did once catch the same 18" Rainbow on back to back casts in a nearby watershed. As luck would have it, my indicator drift a few feet past where the big one had been hold and immediate shot under again. Upon hooking into this fish, while it was good sized, it was clear a different and smaller Rainbow but still put up a great fight before I managed to bring it to the net.

A solid Rainbow

Just after I returned downstream, Rob hooked into a decent fish, but after I got an eye on it, it was clear that it wasn't a trout, but I was having a hard time determining what species of salmon it was. After a few minutes of tug of war, we finally netted the fish which left me scratching my head regarding what it was. The color of the fish was a gold hue that I typically see on spawning Chinook in the region, and it also had the large, irregular spots typical of a Chinook. However, there were also some significant Chum traits, such as the purple bar along the side. While I wish I would have grabbed a fin clip so we could verify it, but after looking at the picture and sharing it with several experts in the fisheries field, I can only conclude that Rob managed to catch a Chum x Chinook Salmon hybrid or Chumook if you will. 

What appears to be the first Chum x Chinook hybrid I have ever seen

This fish being a hybrid also makes sense from a fish return perspective, as largely due to poor hatchery practices, the Chinook in this system return unusually early, and in my last blog post, we indicated that we had encountered our first spawning Chinook on August 18th.  On top of that, this specific river has an early spawning Chum Salmon population, which has significant overlap with Chinook spawning in both time and space. In fact, in the run just upstream, Chinook and Chum were spawning within just a few feet of each other.

After releasing the Chumook, Rob and Alexei picked up a few more Rainbows, but we had pretty much covered the water at this point, and it was time to call it a day.

The circle of life

The pre-spawn exploratory

Over the years, fall has by far become my favorite time of the year to fish and a central component of that is the salmon spawn. For trout, salmon arrive at the perfect time, providing a critical energy rich food supply - salmon eggs are about 3 times as energy rich as aquatic insects -  just before the lean winter months arrive. This wealth of food often attracts migratory trout from far and wide and when timed right makes for the best fishing of the year. Generally I find that Labor Day kicks off the season, but every river is a little different and sometimes it pays to get in early while the trout are hungry and still anticipating the incoming salmon run.

It was this thinking, as well as a desire to see how the river had changed after the high flows of winter that led myself and Dyllon to hope in the car and head for the water on a stormy mid-August afternoon.

Low water and stormy weather

We arrived to the sound of thunder in the distance, but luckily found ourselves in a pocket of decent weather between storm fronts, and were met with are river starved of water after a summer with barely a drop of rain. However, that did not deter us and as it is always interesting to see all of the changes to a river that you know well. 

The river we were fishing can be quite dynamic and we were immediately struck by the changes, with the first two previously decent holes we came to being completely filled in and the next one upstream having changed for the worse, being much shallower and the riffle at the top being far less pronounced then last season. However, it was here that we got our first look at a trout for the day, as a what we suspect was a 14" Cutthroat darted out to investigate Dyllon's presentation before deciding it wasn't too its liking and disappearing again. As we continued on, almost every change we saw was a disappointment, with a tree down in one of our favorite riffles, and another across a confluence hole causing most of the hole which had been my favorite spot the previous season to fill in. While I did manage to briefly hook an ~16" Rainbow at the confluence hole, we found holding spots to be few and far between this year and with this stretch a shadow of its former self we decided to move on and try another spot.

This next spot was quite a mixed bag, a few holes and riffles looked just as good or slightly better then they had last year, while again one of my favorite spots was nowhere near as good as it had been during previous seasons. So with the first 1/2 mile of water we covered it seemingly lifeless and having changed for the slightly for worse, we were starting to debate whether we should continue on when we finally spotted a lone female Chinook starting to dig a redd in a tailout.

First redd of the year, a lone female Chinook starting to dig

There just happened to be a good riffle and log jam just downstream of the redd and it seemed that the trout were already there looking for eggs as Dyllon caught several small Rainbows, before hooking into a beautiful 13" leopard spotted native.

Dyllon's gorgeous native Rainbow

After the bite slowed down at this spot, we moved further upstream and while we didn't see anymore spawners, it seems like the trout were already keyed in on eggs as Dyllon immediately hooked into another albeit smaller Rainbow in the next riffle upstream.

Vine maples showing the first signs of fall over some good holding water

It was my turn next and just downstream of where Dyllon got his fish, I got a good take and a few moments later had a decent native Rainbow to hand. While it had gorgeous coloration and spotting, I briefly thought that it was a hatchery fish as it had some major fin wear, but on closer inspection, the fish just looked to be battle scarred, with a part of its dorsal missing 

My battle scarred Rainbow

Just as the fishing seemed to be picking up, the stormy weather that had surrounding us finally broke and the sound of thunder kept getting closer and closer providing as clear of a signal as any that it was time to get off the river.

Getting off the river with thunder clouds hot on our heels

We made record timing getting back to the car, and it was a good thing too as just a couple minutes down the road we ran into a major storm cell with torrential rain that made it near impossible to see. However, despite being pushed off the river in a hurry and the downgrade in some of the habitat, it was great to see some fish around and know that the spawn is just around the corner.

Last of the Redbands - In search of the Wood River Redband

Two years ago, I attended a American Fisheries Society (AFS) Conference in Boise Idaho, which had an intriguing talking on the agenda focused on the native trout of the Wood River of central Idaho. I had fished the Wood River and one of its tributaries back in the fall of 2011 and remembered the "Rainbow Trout" I caught having a unique look about them, but didn't think too much of it, as at the time it was thought that any native trout of the basin, which were believed to have been Columbia Basin Redbands had long since been replaced by the hatchery Rainbow Trout. However, the presentation at the AFS conference indicated that the native trout had indeed managed to persist in the Wood River basin, but were far more unique than originally expected. 

The Wood River watershed has long been isolated from the rest of the Snake River basin by a series of falls in the Malad Goge and a unique native fish community including an endemic species of sculpin. It turns out that the Redbands of the Basin are quite unique as well and appear originated from an ancestor from outside of the Columbia Basin. It is currently hypothesized that these Redbands may be a hold over from when the Snake River flowed south into Oregon and California, before its course was rerouted into the Columbia watershed and likely represent a new subspecies.

While I was sure that I had already caught this subspecies, I had one major hiccup as I had lost all of my pictures from late 2011 and 2012, when I had a freak computer crash and external hard drive crash within days of each other. It wasn't until this July when the opportunity to revisit the Wood River and fish for these unique Redbands finally arose again.

My wife and I have talked about taking a trip to the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho for years and with our daughter a bit older now, we deemed that this year was finally the right time. So this trip was a family vacation with my daughter and two nieces first, but I would have a little time to break away and do a little fishing as well, and if I was lucky catch the last Redband I need to document in the US. So in late July we hit the road bound for central Idaho and had a smooth drive to our first stop in Pendleton where we going to spend our first night. However, it seemed that the skies were particularly smoky as we reached Pendleton and when I checked the road conditions for the next day's drive it was clear why. A massive brush fire (the Durkee Fire) had broken out near I-84 and another fire was burning along US 395 and both roads were closed. We went to bed that night with it unclear whether we would even be able to get to Idaho and unfortunately, when we woke up the next morning, the roads were still closed so we opted to grab breakfast before deciding our course of action. Luckily that was all the time it took for I-84 to open and we were one our way again and had a smooth albeit smokey journey to Ketchum Idaho where we would be staying for the next few days.

The next morning was my opportunity to try for some Wood River Redbands and based on the suggestion of my friend Steve MacMillan who had caught some the previous summer, I decided to try my luck on a headwaters tributary stream. I arrived at the stream just as the first pale rays of the morning sun lit the valley and immediately hit the trail headed for the stream armed with my 2WT and an ever dependable Royal PMX and Blowtorch nymph dropper.

Early morning in the upper Wood River watershed

Entering the Hemingway Boulders Wilderness

Upon hitting the stream the water was icy cold, making me question my sanity for choosing to wet wade, and while I rose a couple of trout in the first two holes that I came to, that was all the activity that saw as the stream was shallow and holding water was sparse. For that first hour, I didn't see any indications of life and I was just starting to question whether I shouldn't just go try another stream when I came to a fork where two tributaries met.

The stream and its limited hold water

Of the two forks, the right one looked to be the larger and better of the two streams and would keep me closer to the trail if I need to relocate, so I decided to follow it for a bit before giving up. While the first couple of bends were pretty shallow, it didn't take too long to finally spot some good holding water where the stream made a sharp bend and bet yet spot a few fish holding near the far bank. 

The first good holding water on the right hand tributary

I made a cast into the main seam and sure enough as my fly drifted into the main holding water, a fish rose to take my dry fly and moments later I had a beautiful deep bodied Wood River Redband in my net. 

My first Wood River Redband of the morning

Having observed all of the known forms of Redbands in the United State, these fish immediately struck me as unique looking, with a fine speckles, a deep brassy red band and yellowish bronze coloration and are certainly a beautiful native fish.

From that point on, I found plenty of good holding water, but the next fish I encountered was a nonnative Brook Trout instead of a Redband. In recent years, Idaho has liberalized the harvest of Brook Trout to help reduce their densities and I decided that this was a good time to do my part and keep a few Brookies as well.

A few bends upstream of where I caught the Brookie, I found a nice deep pool that looked like ideal habitat and set to work covering the water. 

One of the best pools on the stream

I didn't take long for a fish to notice my dry fly after a short fight, I brought a slightly larger and heavily spotted Redband that really showed off the distinctiveness of this newly recognized subspecies.

A beautiful fine spotted Wood River Redband

This first fish was followed by a Brook Trout and another smaller Redband, but I felt that there really should be another fish in the pool and after a few more casts, I spotted a decent sized fish holding under the bubble curtain towards the tailout. It took a few casts, but finally I watched as the fish moved over to intercept my nymph. I set the hook and the Redband came shooting out of the water, but there was nowhere for the fish to go and after a short battle I brought a beautiful darkly colored male Redband to the net.

A male Redband still showing some of its spawning colors

At this point, the morning was wearing on, but I figured that I should have time for a few more bends. I picked up a couple more Brook Trout and Redbands as I worked my way upstream, but before long I came to a stretch where it looked to be a long ways to the next piece of holding water so I decided that it was finally time to catch the trail and make my way back to the car.

Hiking along the stream on the way out

The hike back offered beautiful views of the Boulder Mountains and the stream as the trail meandered through patches of forest and meadows on the way back down the valley. 

The Boulder Mountains

I ended up making much better timing than I had expected on the hike out and as I remembered seeing a nice pool on the drive up earlier that morning so I figured it was worth a stop. It only took a few minutes to hook a fish at this next spot, but when I brought it in it looked quite different from the natives upstream, with different coloration and spotting pattern and was clearly one of the hatchery fish that Idaho continues to stock throughout the Wood River basin. Having caught that hatchery fish, I figured I would be unlikely to find any natives in this stretch, so I finally decided to call it a day.

A hatchery Rainbow from the lower part of the stream

After wrapping up fishing, we spent the rest of the day exploring Ketchum and Sun Valley and enjoying the pool where we were staying and had a special treat of fresh Brook Trout with dinner.

Brook Trout dinner

The next day we decided to get out and explore the upper Salmon River and check out the some of the ghost towns near Challis. Since I had caught some Redbands the previous morning, I left my fly rod behind so we could just focus on sightseeing and family time. We decided to make a loop of it and drove up Trail Creek Pass into the Big Lost watershed, then into the Salmon River drainage, which made for a stunning drive. We then made our way to the Land of the Yankee Fork Museum just outside of Challis before heading over to the Bayhorse ghost town.

The Bayhorse ghost town

Bayhorse was a thriving mining town in the late 1800's built to take advantage of nearby silver, lead and copper deposits. While abandoned now, town once supported 300 residents, but when the mines dried up, the town died with it. Bayhorse is a relatively new addition to the Idaho State Park system, only opening to the public in 2009. Bayhorse is truly spectacular and well worth the visit and it was a ton of fun to share this piece of the old west with my family, although it was hard not to wonder whether the stream running through the valley held a population of native Salmon River Westslope Cutthroat.

Another view of Bayhorse

From Bayhorse we drove up the Salmon River Valley to Stanely where lunch, in the shadow of Sawtooth Mountains. These mountains are home to several rare fish both native and not. The rarest of these nonnative fish are the Sunapee Trout, a unique form of Acadian Arctic Char were native to Lake Sunapee in New Hampshire. These char went extinct in their native waters in the 1950’s due to the introduction of nonnative Lake Trout, landlocked Atlantic Salmon and smelt. However, in the 1920’s, these Sunapee Trout were stocked in Sawtooth Lake and a few other waterbodies and it is believed that some have managed to persist there to this day. 

The other rare fish are the native Sockeye Salmon historically found in five lakes in the Sawtooth Valley but have only and just barely managed to hold on in Redfish Lake. While I have never been to Redfish Lake, I launched my fisheries career working with captive reared Redfish Sockeye in western Washington and had hoped to finally see Redfish Lake on this trip. Unfortunately, a wildfire broke out along the shores of Redfish Lake just a week before our trip and the area was still closed, so instead we visited one of the other lakes that once held these Sockeye and spent a couple of hours swimming and enjoying the beauty of our surroundings.

A great day for swimming at one of the Sawtooth Mountain Lakes

The Lake was gorgeous and I was amazed by all of the trout I could see cruising the shoreline and holding near the docks, and while I didn't have a rod with me it was a joy just to observe them in their natural habitat. After a couple hours an afternoon thunderstorm rolled in a it was time to wrap up our swimming session and head back to Ketchum.

The Sawtooth Mountains on the drive back

When it came time to head home, I figured that the fires around I-84 should be under control, but when I checked on road conditions the night before I-84 was once again closed. We already had a place to stay booked in Pendleton, and while the fire situation added a lot of stress to the drive, we did luck out once again, as I-84 opened while we were on our way back. Once we did hit the fire zone it was easy to see why the road had been closed, as the fire had burnt right up to the road as it cut through the aptly named Burnt River valley.

Burned country as far as the eye could see, the after effects of the Durkee Fire

This wasn’t the only fire either and as we drove back there was a depressing number of new burn spots and even and active burn in the Columbia Gorge.

Another fire burning along I-84 in the Columbia Gorge

Despite the extreme fire conditions and extra stress associated with the road closures, we had a wonderful trip. It also felt great to check my last Redband in the US off my list, especially after wrapping up the Cutthroat last year. I do have a few Cutthroat I want to revisit, but from this point on I am going to have to go much further afield as I seek the document the remaining native salmonids in the US and Canada with all of my remaining species now found either on the east coast or in Alaska.. 

New subspecies of Redband Trout in the Wood River Idaho

 As genetic methods continue to improve new discoveries regarding the diversity of our native trout have been coming to light at a surprising rate often challenging long held beliefs based on more traditional methods. This included the revelation that there are 25 distinct lineages of Cutthroat instead of the 14 that were once believed to exist (see here for more information) and the description of a new subspecies of Redband in the upper McCloud River of California (see here). 

Most recently, genetics work by Matthew Campbell at the Idaho Department of Fish and Game has revealed that the Wood River of central Idaho is home to a distinct lineage of Redband Trout that has managed to persist despite decades of hatchery Rainbow Trout introductions. The recent study published by Campbell et al. (here) shows that in that Wood River Redband are far more distinct than once believed and despite being part of the Columbia Basin today, the ancestors of the Wood River Redbands appear to have originated outside of the Columbia Basin. The Wood River Redbands aren't the only unique species in the basin either, which contains a unique species of Sculpin and genetics unique populations of Bridgelip Suckers and Mountain Whitefish as well. These unique populations are most likely explained by long isolation due to a nearly 200 foot high waterfall in the Malad River gorge in the lower part of the basin and possibly due to ancient connections between the Snake River and Klamath or Sacramento basins during the Pliocene.

The Wood River Redband Trout

Matthew Miller (the author of Fishing Through the Apocalypse: An Angler’s Adventures in the 21st Century) wrote an excellent article on the Wood River Redband Trout in Fly Fisherman Magazine, which can be found here: Discovering a “New” Redband Subspecies.

A cutt and mouse game

This was a fishing trip that I really have to dedicate to my dog Buddy (RIP), as without him I would have never thought of trying to fish this spot in such a way. 

Back when I was in my early 20's, I took Buddy fishing with me to a local estuary at high tide and as the water level rose, Buddy started making quite the scene as he diligently attempted to nose dive the mice and voles under the grass. While he never did catch any, after watching a half dozen rodents make their escape across the river, I got to thinking that the Coastal Cutthroat cruising the estuary would probably love to eat one of those mice if given the chance. So the next time I visited the estuary I came equipped with several mouse patterns and sure enough I managed to rise several decent Cutthroat throughout the day, turning me onto a unique little niche fishery I had never known existed.

My old dog buddy a great fishing instructor 

Fast forward over a decade and my buddies Dyllon, TJ and I decided to head out to that same estuary to see if we couldn't mouse up some Cutthroat. We arrived at the estuary with a low tide at around 7:30AM and started working the water. I used to fish this spot multiple times a year, but it had been years since my last trip there and I was immediately struck by all of the habitat changes, with several of my favorite Cutthroat holding spots completely gone and a few new spots having formed over the years. One of these new spots in particular caught my eye with a nice deep channel tight against a grassy bank, which looked like the perfect spot for a Cutthroat to ambush a mouse.

Mouse water

I started off casting my mouse pattern tight against or even bouncing of the far bank then twitching and stripping it back in, while Dyllon did the same just upstream and downstream of me. A few casts in I spotted a log with a drop off behind it under the water and after casting my mouse just downstream of it, sure enough a Cutthroat darted out of hiding and smashed my mouse pattern. This is where things usually go wrong as mouse takes are vicious and rarely hook up. However this time I got a solid hook set and had a dime bright Cutthroat full of spunk on the end of my line. Despite only being around 14" the fish put a serious bend in my 6WT, jumped several times and just caused all around havoc in the hole before I was able to bring it to the net.

A gorgeous mouse eating Cutthroat fresh from the salt

While I expected the fish to put the hole down, it had the opposite effect and a school must have been holding in the spot, because after I released my fish both TJ and Dyllon rose several fish that looked to be much larger but none of them stuck. Unfortunately, the excitement ended just as fast as it had begun and after a few minutes the fish shut down completely and refused to rise again. For the next two hours, we worked our way upstream and while I managed to rise one more Cutthroat, the fishing remained slow so we decided to relocate to another estuary and try our luck there.

When we got to this next estuary, the tide was just starting to flood in and we immediately started seeing some fish activity, with TJ rising a Cutthroat to the mouse and me having a few chases and catching one small Cutthroat on the streamer I was now using. 

A small sea-run from our second spot

However once again, just like that, after a short bit of activity, the tide flooded past us and the Cutthroat disappeared and with that it was time to call it a day. While not the most productive day, catching a native sea-run Cutthroat on a mouse pattern is pretty hard to beat any day. 

Early season Olympic coast

Since the end of winter, fishing opportunities have been few and far between in large part due to circumstances out of my control (a totaled car and family health issues to name a few things).  My last outing was for winter steelhead and it is hard be believe that several months have already passed and here we are at the beginning of June with the trout opener already. This trip was the result of some odd circumstances as well, and when my wife accidentally reserved a campsite at Kalaloch in Olympic National Park on a weekend when her and my daughter were already planning on going to the ballet a family camping trip turned into a fishing trip for me instead. With it being really early for the Olympic coast, I landed on trying out a tributary stream to one of the larger rivers on the first day, then trying one of the rivers in Olympic National Park the next day. When I invited Dyllon to join me on the trip he was all in and our buddy TJ was said he could meet up for the second day.

With plans set, we hit the road and arrived at the creek on a beautiful sunny and warm spring afternoon. As we didn't know what to expect, we decided to go with a little bit of everything and with several rods in tow we headed for the stream. 

The stream

This stream ended up being a bit of a conundrum, as while it looked good with lots of nice holding water and plenty of signs of recent spawning activity there just didn’t seem to be any fish around. We covered able a mile upstream into a canyon tossing streamers, nymphs and dries and didn’t get a single take. I had expected that there would at least be some Cutthroat or parr around but other than some juvenile Coho in the shallows we didn't see any fish at all.

Time to turn around in the canyon

After going got hard in the canyon we decided to head back downstream and try our luck below where we had started. Once again we were met with over a mile of fishless water until we came to some extremely snaggy water in a slide area. As I climbed over a log, I finally spotted what looked to be about a 15” Bull Trout holding on the  inside seam. While it was tricky getting in position, I did so without spooking the fish and on the first cast it charged over and swiped at my streamer but didn’t take and then was gone. I don’t know if the fish saw me or what, but after 30 minutes of fruitless casting neither Dyllon or I could entice it to look again and with the weather shifting and the daylight starting to fade we decided to head for camp. Kalaloch was beautiful as always, but by the time we got there, the wind had kicked up and the skies were grey with a look of rain about them.

A wet morning at Kalaloch

Sure enough after our fruitless first day, we awoke to a rainy morning on the Olympic Coast, but had the good fortune to end up with a gap in the rain just long enough to break camp and make our way to the river. This day couldn't have been more different from our first day, but was a rather classic day on the west end of the Olympic Peninsula, with low clouds and a driving mist that seems capable of penetrating the toughest rain gear. So with that as our back drop, we met up with TJ at the river and made our way for the trailhead and a few miles of hiking through the rainforest to what we hoped would be a beautiful and productive stretch of river.

A rainy morning in the Olympic backcountry

On the way upstream we came across a great looking hole where a couple of braids came together and had to try a few casts. While we didn’t find any fish, I noticed something odd along the bank and when I went to investigate I found a drone (and not a cheap one) tangled up in some woody debris. The use of drones is illegal in Olympic National Park and it appeared that someone got an extremely expensive bit of karma for acting as the rules didn’t apply to them and I had gained something to pack out on the way back. After the fishless drone hole, we made our way directly up the trail to our next spot meandering along the river and through ancient forests.

A rainforest Banana Slug

A beautiful little tributary stream

By the time we reached our destination a little over three miles up the trail, we were all soaked due to a combination of rain and humidity, but were ready to start fishing. Unfortunately, there just didn’t seem to be any fish around and the several holes we covered showed no signs of life. One top of that the river was just to high to ford still and much of the good looking holding water was just out of reach. At this point we had to decide whether to hike even further in or just head back and the miserable weather and lack of fish convinced us that it was time to cut out loses.

After returning to the trailhead from our fruitless morning, the weather had at least improved and we decided to head downstream to a good run to see if we could still salvage our day. While Dyllon and TJ headed to a hole upstream, I started working the edge of a riffle and within a few minutes I got a solid take down but missed it, but at least there was finally a sign of life in the river.

The run

For the next ten minutes, my indicator kept going under or hesitating in ways I was sure were not due to hanging up on the bottom, but every time I set the hook there was nothing there. However, finally I set the hook and this time finally had a fish on the end of my line. This fish put up a good fight, but stayed down and deep and when I brought it in I finally saw why I had missed so many fish - it was a Mountain Whitefish. 

A native Mountain Whitefish - the savior of the trip

Until Dyllon and TJ came back downstream it was fast action for Whitefish and by the time that they arrived about 20 minutes later I had landed three more of these underrated native fish. After they got there TJ when back through where I had fished and picked up a couple more fish before the bite stopped and we moved further downstream. 

Once we reached the tailout, we spotted a steelhead redd that appeared to be rather recent and there looked to be a fish that wasn't a steelhead holding nearby. Dyllon made a cast with his streamer and as TJ and I watched, what turned out to be about an 18" Bull Trout darted over and engulfed it. Unfortunately, Dyllon didn't feel the grab and set too late and the fish moved back to where it was holding. After that the fish showed no interest in Dyllon's fly and when I tossed one over it came moved over to look at it, but refused to take it before it finally shot upstream into deeper water.

With the next run hard to reach and too far downstream, we opted to hit the road and try one final spot before heading out. This next spot ended up being yet another Whitefish extravaganza and both TJ and I landed several of them on our nymph set ups, while Dyllon's streamer went completely ignored.

The descending over the valley once again

While the Whitefish certainly saved the trip, the clouds were starting to move in again and with a long drive back and our prospects for the rest of the day a bit bleak, we decided that it was time to hit the road. While it may have been a bit of a slow start, the Mountain Whitefish were a welcome addition and it is certainly great having the stream season open once again and hopefully the rest of the summer will hold some better fishing.