Out and about on the Sound

I have been fishing the Puget Sound a fair amount over the last few weeks, mainly in search of Coastal Cutthroat, but these elusive fish have been few and far between lately. The same thing can't be said about the resident Coho Salmon, which can still be found in strong numbers throughout the south Sound. The problem with resident Coho right now, is that fishing for them is closed in much of the Puget Sound right now. Beyond this, regulations for the three marine areas that I have been concentrating my fishing efforts on have been alternating from being opened to closed for salmon, so much that it is getting a bit maddening trying to remember which one is open at any given time. A little over a week ago me and Luke headed out to a couple of different beaches to try our luck. At the first beach I put a large sculpin pattern on to see if I could entice any Cutthroat to bite, but only ended up finding a few resident Coho. As the tide began to go slack, the fishing slowed as the Coho moved on so Luke and I decided to do the same thing.

A sculpin eating Coho

The next beach that we headed to was a little further south and was open for Coho, so I switched out my sculpin pattern for Clouser Minnow. It didn't take long for us to find the fish, but they were on the move and we were forced into playing a game of cat and mouse with them if we wanted to have any chance of catching anything. These fish were keying in on a school anchovies that was following the current along the beach and we ended up chasing the fish for about a mile and a half, catching a few each time we stopped, before the school moved on again.

 

Luke with a nice Coho

After following the Coho up and down the beach, the school finally disappeared and the fishing drastically slowed down so we called it quits.

 

A juvenile Bald Eagle at the beach

In my search for the elusive Coastal Cutthroat, I have also been hitting a beach that is a mere three minute drive from my house lately. This beach usually starts fishing well around this time of the year, but as with my trip with Luke, the Cutthroat haven't been around. Oddly enough, the resident Coho haven't even been hanging out at this spot either. The fishing may be dead at this beach right now, but the nice weather that we have been having has made for some great sunsets and peaceful evenings on the water.

A couple of different sunset photos: Different days, different conditions, same slow fishing...

It is still early for sea-run Cutthroat right now and with the chum fry migration right around the corner it is only a matter of time before things pick up again.

Winter Steelhead Clinic with Doug Rose

On January 27th, Blake, Mark, Clayton and I all headed out to the Olympic Peninsula to take part in a winter steelhead clinic with Doug Rose. Doug has been fishing and guiding on the peninsula for years and has written several books on the subject, so I figured that this was a great chance to learn some more techniques for chasing these elusive fish. We all decided that rather than having to make the four hour drive out to Forks at O'Dark 30, it would be better to come out the night before and grab a hotel room, so we headed out one Monday evening instead. We woke up to 2 inches of snow on the ground and headed to a local restaurant to grab some breakfast before meeting up with Doug and the two other anglers that were taking part in the clinic. The first part of the clinic was held indoors and covered some of the basics about the Olympic streams, flies, lines, rods, tradition, etc. For the second part we headed out to the Bogachiel River to work on wet fly swing techniques.

 

Doug giving Mark some pointers on swinging a fly for steelhead

I put a pattern of my own design on and had a tug from something, but didn't hook up. We worked out way through the run two steps at a time and Blake got a hit but there were no hook ups.

 

Blake fishing the Bogi

After covering the run on the Bogachiel, Doug took us over to the Sol Duc River for the rest of the day. The Sol Duc is an amazingly beautiful river and was running a perfect blue-green color.

The Sol Duc

I worked the run swinging a prawn pattern for a while with no luck, then Blake and I had Doug show us a few spey casts on his switch rod. We spent the remainder of the day taking turns practicing with the switch rod and were getting some pretty decent casts off by the time we got off the water. I have to say that a switch rod would be a great way to fish the Puget Sound too, as high tide would be no problem anymore. The clinic was great and Doug definitely had a lot to teach.

South Sound salmon day

On Friday, there was a great outgoing tide, so me and one of my fishing buddies Bob decided to head out to a local beach to try for some resident Coho Salmon. When we arrived at the beach the wind was up a bit, but definitely at a fishable albeit challenging level and there was no initial sign of fish. However, this did not last to long and within the first five casts Bob was into his first resident Coho, which took a white baitfish pattern on a fast retrieve.

The beach

For the next half hour the fishing continued to be quite good, with me and Bob picking up a couple decent of sized residents a piece. After this the school seemed to move out and the fishing died. With the pace slowing a bit we decided to work our way down the beach to a point that gets a good current ripping past it when the tide is flowing. As we approached the point, sea gulls could be seen dive bombing a school of baitfish just offshore (definitely a good sign!!), so we positioned ourselves in front of the bait ball and started casting. The fish appeared to be well aware of the baitfish and after a few minutes I got a solid hook up. However, this fish did not react as would be expected for a resident Coho and instead charged straight at me only to head for deeper water once it spotted me. This type of fight is typical of Chinook Salmon and sure enough when I brought the fish in it turned out to be a small Chinook Salmon. These fish have an aversion to day light and as such are not often caught during the day, but the low light conditions from the cloud cover seemed to be enough to bring this one up to the surface to feed.

The Chinook salmon

A couple casts after catching the Chinook salmon I caught a decent resident Coho which put on a nice show of aerial acrobatics. Before long Bob was into another Coho as well, but after this the fish moved down the beach a little bit. Luckily a couple jumpers gave away their location and after getting in front of them I was able to bring one more Coho to hand.

Another Chinook salmon or "blackmouth" as they a commonly called for the coloration along their lower jaw.

By this time we were losing day light so we headed back to where the trail comes down to the beach to try our luck there for a few minutes. Before for I could even set foot in the water Bob spotted a jumper and sure enough on my first cast I caught another Chinook Salmon. On Bob's first cast he LDR'd a nice Coho and the fishing continued to stay decent for the next fifteen minutes or so. I ended up landing one more resident Coho and two more Chinook before things slowed down. Once the fishing finally slowed down again we decided it was time to call it a day and headed back to the car.

Snow day Coho

For the past couple weeks, western Washington has gotten slammed by a winter storm. This has resulted in me getting plenty of fly tying done, but no fishing.  Blake and I decided that we both needed to get out to change this. The evening tide looked good so I met Blake and his friend Sam at the the top of my icy road and we made our way to a local beach.

A cold start - ice on the sound

When we arrived at the beach there was ice on the calmer water, but we were dressed plenty warm enough so we got to fishing. I didn't take us long to find a school of jumping resident Coho and we all started getting into fish. Fishing for jumping Coho is always a blast as the fish give away their location and it is simply a matter of putting a fly in front of their nose. When these fish decide that they want a fly it seems to be their goal to destroy it. I was using a new pink and red color variation of the Snot Dart that I came up with during my recent fly tying and it drove the fish crazy.

 

There were plenty of fish around

Sam got some too

Unfortunately, the amazing fishing could not last and as several seals moved in the school of Coho broke up, slowing the fishing way down. Although there would be an occasional jumper it became more of game of blindly casting and hoping that a fish would cross the path of one of our flies. Each of us picked up a couple more Coho, but Blake got the best fish of the day, a fat 16" male Cutthroat that was beginning to show its spawning colors. Unfortunately, this fish did not want to have its picture taken and slipped out of Blake's grasp as I was getting my camera ready.

Blake working the beach

By the time that the sun went down the fishing had completely died off and we all had numb fingers, so it was time to call it quits and make the icy drive home.

Olympic Peninsula again

After recent trip in search steelhead on the Olympic Peninsula, Blake and I decided to make another go at it today. We picked a river that we had fished a couple of weeks ago and seen some fish in, and planned on leaving bright and early. Blake was at my house by 4:45AM and we were at the river about the time the sun was up. We stopped at the lower part of the river, where a local gear fisherman tried to tell us that there were no steelhead in the river and the Chum never showed up this year. As we had just fished this river and knew from the last outing that there were indeed steelhead in the river and that there were a good number of Chum we didn't buy this story and knew it was just an attempt to drive the "new guys" away. However, it looked like the lower parts of the river were going to be busy so we decided that we would hike upstream above where we had fished on our last outing and check out some new water. The upper river was similar to the water that we had sampled downstream in November, but with a little more gradient. Once again we each brought a swinging and nymphing rig and while Blake started out tossing his nymph rig, I went for the swing.

Blake working his nymph rig through a good looking run

The first couple holes and runs were unproductive, but a run little downstream was full of Chum Salmon. It was here that Blake caught a nice fairly bright female Chum that grabbed his pink and purple stonefly nymph. We were hoping that there would be some Steelhead or Cutthroat behind these fish looking for eggs, but had no such luck.

Blake with a female Chum caught on a Hotwire Stonefly Nymph

Chum vs. Otter... I Guess the otter won..

Below the Chum hole, we found a large pool in front of a logjam that had a handful of Coho holding in it. We worked through this hole hard and I had a small Cutthroat come up to the surface and attack my indicator, while Blake a had a take from one of the Coho but we didn't hookup. Unfortunately, things did not improve after this and instead got worse. While we had hiked a good distance upstream, apparently the gear fisherman from earlier had abandoned the lower river and hiked in just below us effectively cutting us off. The rest of the time on the river ended up being a fruitless search for water that we could have to ourselves and by mid-day we found ourselves out of good water and decided to call it a day at this spot. 

After leaving the river we decided to scout out the tidewater of a nearby creek, which was said to have a run of Steelhead and some decent sea-run Cutthroat fishing. We hadn't had a chance to check the tides before leaving home, and when we got to this spot the water was down a couple of feet below what would have been ideal for fishing.

Blake working the tidewater on the creek

The Olympic Coast at low tide

We tried a few casts, but the water was shallow and there was no sign of any fish. This creek definitely looked promising, especially for Cutthroat in the fall, so we added it to our "Spots to fish" list for another outing under more ideal conditions. After leaving the creek, we made the long trek back to Gig Harbor.

Searching for Olympic Steel

Blake and I decided to make a trip out to the Olympic Peninsula on Friday and Saturday to search for some early winter Steelhead. During the previous week, the pineapple express came through western Washington and put just about every river to flood stage. In the aftermath, the rivers began to drop and clear a bit so conditions for the trip looked promising. Most years, the winter steelheading gets kicking around Thanksgiving, so we were jumping the gun on things a little, but we figured that a few less fish and a lot less people was better the battling the Thanksgiving crowds. 

Day 1: Friday November 21st 2008: Blake met me at my house well before the sun was up and we hit the road. We arrived at the first stream a little after day light and scrambled down the bank to the river. The river was still a little high and off color, but looked very fishy, with some great looking holes and pocket water. We worked our way upstream, stopping to nymph and swing flies through every likely looking spot, but only ran into a few smolts. About a 1/2 mile upstream, we came upon a nice pool and it was here that the river showed a little bit of life.

Me nymphing the first stream

Blake was fishing downstream of me when he yelled for me to come down to check out a fish that was holding in a riffle in front of him. The fish ended up being a nearly spent Coho, but as Blake was pointing at it with his rod tip, a chrome bright steelhead darted upstream between us and the Coho in less than a foot of water and into the hole that I had just been fishing. I raced back upstream to the hole and started working it with my nymph set up and within five casts watched as my line stopped and my indicator shot below the surface. Right away I thought Steelhead!! Only when the fish on the end of my line started careening downstream like a bat out of hell, it wasn't the grey ghost silhouette of the steelhead that I had been hoping for, but instead the unmistakable green back of a Chum Salmon. The Chum had grabbed my Glo Bug and darted past a root wad, then turned back upstream and headed straight into the tangled mess of the root wad. For the moment luck was on my side, as the fish decided to go though the largest opening in the snag and the only spot where my line wouldn't get caught. Unfortunately, my luck didn't hold and the fish made a jump along the far bank and threw my fly.

Blake swinging a fly through the Chum hole

After the hook up, and with the knowledge that somewhere in the depths in front of us there was a chrome bright steelhead, we worked every inch of the hole both swinging and nymphing. However, the other only fish that the pool would give up was an 8" smolt that once again went for my Glo Bug. With us being pretty certain that the fish in this pool were not going to bite, we decided to work our way back downstream to another nice run that we had skipped over. Blake started out swinging at the head of the run, while I nymphed the mid section. Downstream of where I fishing, and in about a foot and a half of water I saw a flash. I put my next cast in this spot, and a 15" Coastal Cutthroat grabbed my fly but popped off after a few seconds. When Blake got down to this stretch, he too had a hit from a Cutthroat but didn't hook up. After covering this pool, we worked our way back to the car and got on the road to try out another piece of water.

The second river

The next river was even smaller than the first one and I had couple of nice strikes and Blake hooked into a nice Cutthroat in the frog water along the bank, but the fish shook loose. We waded downstream to a pool that we couldn't past without some significant bushwhacking, so headed back to the car just as it started to rain. 

After this we headed to one more river that we wanted to check out to fish for a couple of hours before dark. This river would end up being our favorite for trip and was full of classic runs, pools and pockets. It was raining when we got to the river, and we began swinging our flies through every piece of likely looking water. A few runs downstream from the car we saw a couple steelhead jump on their way upstream, but these fish were on a mission to spawn and didn't touch our flies. By the time that we got off the river, us and all of our gear were soaked and were very thankful that we had gotten a hotel run instead of camping.

Day 2: Saturday November 22nd 2008: It rained all night, but with the first light of morning the showers began to dissipate. We decided to head back to the third river and even though we got there early it wasn't early enough as the weekend warriors were out in force. Even with the extra people though, once were got a couple runs down to where we had seen the fish jump the night before we had the place to ourselves. With the rains overnight the river was up about four inches from the day before and the visibility was a little low, but conditions looked good enough. Blake and I covered this pool several times before we decided to move downstream to the next stretch. I was working a deep slot behind a log jam at the head of the next pool with my nymph rig, when my indicator shot under the surface and slightly upstream. I set the hook, and the steelhead that had grabbed my fly took off upstream as fast as it could. The whole ordeal only lasted a matter of ten seconds before the steelhead swam into the log jam and broke me off leaving me completely speechless at what had just happened.

Blake working a run on the third river

We spent the better part of the morning working this area, but as the day wore on the anglers from upstream began crowding us, so we decided to go check out another section of the river further downstream. A few miles below where we had been fishing the river cuts itself into a deep canyon and we figured that we would probably be the only ones crazy enough to fish this stretch so we scrambled down the hill to the river. We started out covering the water downstream, but after a few fishless hours decided to check out the area upstream of where we had come down.

Me covering some water in the canyon

A waterfall in the canyon

The upper part of the canyon consisted of shear cliffs, deep pools and boulder gardens and was breath takingly beautiful. We scrambled along the cliffs as far upstream as we could go but still couldn't find any fish.

Blake working a nice looking pocket

Some pocket water in the canyon

The upper part of the canyon

After feeling confident that we had covered the water well enough and that there were either no fish or no fish that were going to bite, it was time to hike out. We decided to take a different route out of the canyon, which ended up being one of the most punishing exercises that I think either of us has ever done. Things never seem to look as steep from down below, and this end up being a near vertical hands and knees climb where we were looking for anything to grab onto; ferns, branches, roots, etc... After 45 long minutes, we finally made our way back to the truck and made the long drive back home.

The trip ended with no fish landed, but Blake and I both agreed that this was the most fun that we had ever had getting skunked!

Resident Coho Time

It is that time of the year, when the trout streams and lakes here in Washington State are closing down for the season, but fortunately the Puget Sound remains open. The end of the trout season heralds in the beginning of the winter's resident Coho Salmon season. These resident Coho opt out of the long oceanic journey that their migratory brethren undertake and instead remain in the estuarine waters of the Puget Sound throughout their life cycle. For local fly fisherman, this means that they are available throughout much of the year. For the last several weeks I had to cut back on my fishing time a bit in order to study for the GRE, so that I can hopefully get into grad school. I got the test out of the way last week and have been itching to get back out to chase some fish around.

On Monday the weather was typical for western Washington, cloudy and rainy, but with only a light breeze, and there was a good outgoing tide that slacked off right around dark... Perfect conditions for fly fishing. With conditions looking good, I headed out to an old standby beach for resident Coho to try my luck. When I arrived at the beach, I found that I had the beach to myself like usual, so I started walking down toward a point were the fish usually hang out. On the way down to the point I saw a fish jump a few hundred feet down the beach, followed by another and another. As resident Coho generally don't stay in one spot for very long, I knew that if I wanted to have any chance of catching any of these fish I had to get to them fast, so I did the only reasonable thing and ran for it. The fish were still jumping when I got to the spot so I placed myself slightly in front of their path and started casting like a madman. On the first cast a fish slammed my Marabou Clouser Minnow and I quickly brought it in, turned it loose and started casting again. On the next cast my fly barely had time to hit the water and another Coho attacked it. In regular Coho form, the second that the fish felt the hook he was straight out of the water and doing his best to throw my fly, but it was not to be so and after a short fight I brought him in.

A typical resident Coho

A gray day on the beach

After this fish, it was over and the school had moved on either in search of food or more likely due to a group of seals that were lurking about in the area. With the fish gone from this spot, I move over to the point and covered the water there, hooking up with another slightly larger resident Coho that was kind enough to spit my fly out before I could bring him in. After this the fishing completely died, so I decided head down to another spot that the Coho seem to like to frequent and kept my eyes open for jumpers along the way. I didn't find any jumpers like I was hoping for, but when I got to the spot I did catch a small Chinook Salmon. At this point the tide was slacking off, and it seemed that the resident Coho had moved on, but instead of throwing in the towel I decided I hiked down the beach about a mile to another point that gets the current moving even when the tide has died down. I spent about a half an hour here and did hook up with one resident but LDR'd him.

At this point it was starting to get dark, so I figured I better head toward the trail. However, one the way back I finally spotted some more jumping fish and it was game on once again. As before, on the first cast I caught another fish and on the next cast I missed second one, but these fish were on the move so the third cast came up empty. Jumping fish kept giving away the school's position, so I took off down the beach in pursuit. I tried to get in front of the school before stopping to fish again and would get a few casts in at each spot that I stopped before the school moved past me and I had to relocate again. I picked up another fish this way and lost several others, before I finally lost the school again. It seemed that the fishing was going to stay good for some time, but the light was failing so I put on the head lamp that I keep in my vest and changed my fly out for a glow in the dark one and got back to fishing. 

The sun was completely down, when the resident Coho returned and liked what they saw with my glow in the dark fly and I pulled one out of the group before they vanished into the darkness. With the resident Coho gone, I started fishing my way down the beach hoping to find them again, but instead found another small Chinook Salmon before the weather convinced me that it was finally time to call it a night. 

When I called Blake up and gave him a report of how I had done, his reply was "what are you doing tomorrow," and my reply was "fishing you in?" Of course he was, but when Tuesday rolled around the wind was absolutely howling and we almost opted to just tie some flies instead, but somehow convinced ourselves that our spot would be sheltered from the wind. It wasn't. Me, Blake and his friend Mark arrived at the beach to find the Sound looking more like the ocean with whitecaps, rollers and a crashing surf. However, the fish were still there so we got to it.

Blake and Mark working the beach

Within a couple of minutes of arriving, Blake had caught his first fish and I stationed myself off of the point. Shortly after stationing myself on the point, a saw a fish jump in between a couple of waves and made a cast to it. It is probably stretching it a bit to call it casting under these conditions, as I had to face shore and make a short forward cast and than a high back cast and let the wind do what it would with my line. This was definitely not the most elegant cast I have ever made, but the fish didn't care and smashed my fly. I quickly released this fish and lobbed my fly back out and immediately had another fish on. This one was a much larger resident at around 17" and put on a fine show of acrobatics before I finally landed it. What struck me about this fish wasn't it's length but its girth, the pig of a fish was proportioned like a football and must have been a good 5" or 6" from the back to the belly. After releasing the fish, I watched the rest of the school jumping towards Blake amid the waves. Just like clockwork once they got to him, he caught two fish, then they were gone.

An average resident Coho

After this I got one more resident, and missed another before the wind got even stronger and it became risky to wade much deeper than my knees as a huge sneaker wave was likely to come in an soak anyone who wasn't paying enough attention. With sunsetting and the Sound looking like it was more suited for surfing than fly fishing, it was time to head home after a great albeit windy outing.

Me casting amid the surf at sunset