On the Water Log, November 14, 2008

November 15th, 2008

                      The Downside of Old Growth

The creek I mentioned yesterday was in really good shape today–a vivid but clear ice-tea shade–but blowdown that drifted downstream on the last high water kept me from the slots I wanted to fish. These were really big trees, lodged perpendicular to the creek, and there were steep, soggy slopes on both banks. I tried three of four approaches, but I just couldn’t get where I wanted to go.

Naturally, I thought of a possible alternate way into the drift on my way home. I think I’ll try it Sunday.

The best part of the day was that I found a little cluster of evergreen huckleberries as I bushwhacked. Despite a lot of birds in the area, they, unaccountably, still had a lot of berries. If you aren’t familiar with evergreen huckleberries, they taste best after a frost or two. They are really good, reduced down to syrup, on pancakes. And my wife just found a buckwheat crepe recipe in a French cookbook. 

On the Water Log, November 13, 2008

November 13th, 2008

Well, my daily salmon journal didn’t get very far, did it? My last post was a week ago, and there hasn’t really been a day when you could reasonably fly fish since then. I drove out to Leyendecker yesterday, and there were standing waves and a large whirlpool at the confluence of the Sol Duc and Bogachiel. The Calawah is still a mess. I went down south today, and the upper Bogachiel, Hoh, Queets and Quinault are all still way, way out, even though they are dropping quickly on the USGS charts.

That is a perfect example of why I think the water gauge readings need to be taken with a very large grain of salt. Last winter, people from out of town kept calling me and telling me that the charts showed the rivers were ”normal” when they were the color of chocolate milk and had just about zero visibility. The cfs readings don’t tell you when slides effect the turbidity of the water or when the river is off-color  after washing over a leaf-strewn  alder bottom.

Anyway, I imagine the best of the salmon run is probably over by now, so I’m going to switch my focus to steelhead. To that end, I’m going out tomorrow. Yes, I have found a little creek that is, believe it or not, in very nice shape. It’s a little early, but I’ll let you how I do.

Remember, Syd Glasso used to say that you weren’t a real steelhead fly fisherman if you didn’t have one by Thanksgiving.

That doesn’t give me much time!

On the Water Log, November 6, 2008

November 6th, 2008

                             November 6 Salmon Log

As predicted, it has been raining, more or less continuously, since last night. The Sol Duc is one long stretch of whitewater, and the Calawah is a deep, ugly brown. All the canals in town are nearly bank full. We won’t be fishing for quite a few days. Don’t even think about the weekend. I’ll write about historic November salmon and steelhead run timing tomorrow.  

On the Water Log, November 5, 2008

November 5th, 2008

                             Salmon Log November 5, 2008

I had one on for a while today. It was a nice coho, probably 12 pounds or better. I was on the lower Sol Duc. I hooked it on a size 6 Comet with a purple Body Braid body. It broke me off on a snag after three or four minutes. I had just gotten to that point when I was thinking I would get it and was thinking about how I would cook it. That’s when it found the one of the fingers of an old, submerged Sitka spruce snag.

It’s supposed to rain like crazy the next couple of days, at least that was what the last NOAA map I looked at showed. I’ll let you know tomorrow.

By the way, it’s fun targeting salmon for a change, but I am already beginning to have an urge to get away from the crowds on the lower rivers. In the next week or so, I may begin to wander away from the salmon pools from time to time and put my energy back into steelhead. That’s how I make my money in winter, after all, and I know lots of places to get away from other people when it comes to steelhead.

On the Water Log, November 4, 2008

November 5th, 2008

                        November Salmon Log, November 4

I fished the Dickey today. I didn’t get a bump. It was still one of the best days of my life.

On the Water Log, November 3, 2008

November 3rd, 2008

                    November Salmon Log, November 3

Well, I don’t know if you got much rain where you live, but we got a lot over the weekend in Forks. I wanted to fish for coho on a slough I know on the lower Hoh this morning, but it was high, olive brown and definitely out. The Bogachiel wasn’t in good shape for fly fishing either, although I saw some boats that weren’t fishing gear and bait. The Calawah had a lot of the wrong kind of color, the kind that comes from too many leaves in the water, so I decided to try a couple of pools on the lower Sol Duc. However, a boat was in the pool where I wanted to begin, and there were two guys with gear at the next one. I drove came home and worked on an article and tied Comets. It’s supposed to rain rain tomorrow, but if it doesn’t begin too early, I am going to try to get on the Sol Duc before everyone else.

Normally, I normally don’t fish for salmon much in November. This is the time of year that I usually spend every day I can hunting ducks. But my yellow Lab, Lily, is now officially retired. It makes me sad not to spend the time with her in the field, but it gives me a chance to return to the November rivers.

During the late 1980s and early 1990s, I didn’t have a dog, and I used to fish for coho in rivers regularly. But it’s been a while, and it felt good heading out into the November fog again this morning. Not as good as with an eager dog and a heavy bag of decoys. But good, nonetheless.

The last few weeks, as I’ve been waiting to begin my month-long salmon quest, I’ve been re-reading Russell Chatham’s superb, The Angler’s Coast, and Les Johnson and Bruce Ferguson’s fantastic new edition of Fly-Fishing for Pacific Salmon II.

I am always inspired by supple, crisp, evocative writing and good story-telling. They make me want to get out on the water more than the best photographs in the world. Here is a favorite passage from each book.

“During fall in California–Oregon, too, for that matter–all the short coastal stream are at their lowest. In creeks like Paper Mill little freshwater is present in the lagoons. The same could be said of rivers such as the Gualala, Garcia, Navarro and lower Eel below the Snag Hole. On several occasions, I’ve caught silvers in the lagoon at Navarro on the high incoming tide, when waves from the nearby ocean were rolling far up the river. Once I had an excellent time just inside the bar of Redbwood Creek at Orick. A run of small king salmon (chubs) had just entered the lagoon. WhenI saw them rolling I launched an eight-foot boat and, with only the gulls and crashing sea for company, caught a number. One fall I caught silvers in Tomales Bay, fly casting from my pram. I was out for stripers but when the salmon kept jumping near the boat I tied on a Comet and caught three in about two hours.” The Angler’s Coast, Russell Chatham

“The most determined of the fly-fishers will stake out spots on the tide pools and lower reaches of rivers, that host late-run Chinook, coho and chum salmon. Facing one wet, cold squall after another pushing in from the Pacific they bundle up in wool sweaters, fleece pants and rain gear, hoping to connect with even one dawdler as wind-driven sleet rips across their cheeks and numbs gloved fingers. When the last of these hard-core fly-fishers eventually abandon the tide pools and lower river, salmon fishing is over for the year.” Les Johnson, Fly-Fishing for Pacific Salmon II  

On the Water Log, October 31,2008

October 31st, 2008

    NOVEMBER SALMON BLOG BEGINS MONDAY 

About six months ago, I wrote on this page about how much I was looking forward to spring because I was itching to fish with my 5-weight and floating lines. Well, it seems as though the late spring, summer and early autumn went by terribly fast, and it’s close to the time to put it away for the winter. Oh sure, I will use it when I fish in saltwater for sea-run cutthroat. But the days of fishing West End rivers and creeks for cutthroat with a floating line are, I’m afraid, at end.

It’s been raining in Forks since the middle of the night, and it’s now midday and still raining hard. It’s supposed to continue for several days. Although all the rivers were very low yesterday, I have a feeling that we will get enough rain to bring them up significantly. That will, in all likelihood, scatter many of the sea-runs that remain in the  mainstems of the rivers. 

Fortunately, I had a really satisfying, perhaps, final day guiding with light rods and floating lines yesterday. We spent time on a lot of different rivers. They were in terrific shape, but as I wrote last week, they were cold and I think a lot of fish had already moved upstream. But late in the day, we found cutthroat on one of the Quillayute rivers. Best of all, my client got his first Olympic Peninsula cutthroat on the surface. He got a 12- or 13 inch fish and one that was about 16 waking, respectively, an orange-bodied Steelhead Caddis (with a riffled hitch) and a generic October Caddis. He also, briefly, hooked a hot, strong fish that I suspect was a summer-run steelhead.

It was a great way to tie up the end, most likely, of the floating line, 5-weight time of year. 

I will be focusing on salmon in the rivers in November. And as I wrote in my recent newsletter email, I plan on blogging more or less every day. I won’t be on the water this weekend, but will begin posting on Monday and continue through November.

And then it’ll be time for winter steelhead!

Write a Letter for Dabob/Tarboo Bays

October 27th, 2008

        ”Acts of creation are ordinarily reserved for gods and poets, but humbler folk may circumvent this restriction if they know how.”  Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac. 

The Northwest Watershed Institute (NWI) and other conservation organizations are working to preserve critical fish and wildlife habitat on northern Hood Canal’s Dabob and Tarboo bays.  

The NWI’s long term goal is simple–to protect and restore Tarboo Creek and upper Dabob/Tarboo bays from its headwaters to the estuary. This reflects a philosophy that believes it is both simpler and cheaper to preserve the natural functions of an ecosystem than to allow it to be degraded and then, later,  spend vast sums of money, usually public money, to restore it, nearly always to a much diminished level of productivity.

NWI’s most immediate goal is to secure long-term, comprehensive protection of upper Dabob and Tarboo bays. To that end, it and it’s partners, the Jefferson Land Trust and Nature Conservancy, have proposed that the Washington Department of Natural Resources (DNR) expand its current Dabob Bay Natural Area Preserve from 195 to more than 3,500 acres. The DNR’s Natural Heritage Advisory Commitee approved the boundary in June, but the DNR has since reduced the size to accommodate a timber sale.
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On the Water Log, October 23, 2008

October 24th, 2008

               LAST CHANCE OCTOBER GUIDE TRIPS

Next week, October 27-31, is the last chance to book ”My Favorite Trout Water” and “Elwha” trips for 2008. The remaining “My Favorite Trout Water” trip focuses on the East Side of the Olympic Peninsula and includes fishing a beaver pond, a saltwater beach and a tidewater creek. The Elwha trip concentrates on the rainbow trout water between the dams, which has a lot of  October Caddis, small caddis, BWO, Yellow Sally and Slate-Winged Olive action right now. Both trips cost $350.

                   NOVEMBER STEELHEAD TUNE-UP

Have you had trouble catching your first winter steelhead on the fly? November is a great time to polish the skills that will enable you to connect with winter fish. During the course of this comprehensive, all day clinic, we will visit the Hoh, Sol Duc, Bogachiel and Dickey. We will learn to identify steelhead water and how to approach it with swinging or dead drift presentations. We will discuss lines, leaders, flies, line handling and presentation. Finally, we will talk about the logistics of fishing the West End during winter and how to create strategies for avoiding crowds and boats. $350 for one or two anglers.  

                       NO CUTTHROAT THIS WEEK

There is probably a strict protocal against fly fishing guides admitting they are ever skunked, but that’s exactly what’s happened to me this week. I fished for cutthroat Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, and I had exactly one bite. I guess I’m paying for the summer steelhead I caught on the Hoh last week.

Early in the week, a friend and I fished most of the day on the Clearwater and one of its tribuataries. We covered a lot of water and my friend had one strong tug and I had a solid hit from a good fish–I saw it–on the tributary. That was encouraging, and we thought we had finally found fish. But a couple of minutes later low and close lightening and thunder chased us off the water. That was strange, because we very rarely get lightning on the West End.

I also fished the Hoko for a few hours, which is fly fishing only in September and October. I used to catch nice cutts on the Hoko during autumn, but I haven’t in recent years. I didn’t the other day, either. The river was in great shape, with just the right amount of water and a lot of insect activity, yet I didn’t see a single decent fish rise. The only fish I caught were juvenile steelhead. I really don’t know what’s going on there. I did see a couple people in rafts. Long time Port Angeles angler and salmon advocate, Dick Goin, told me a few years ago that people were begining to float the Hoko, but this was my first encounter with it. Dick thought it was a terrible idea and so do I. On a big river, a boat won’t necessarily put down every fish in the stream, but rafts on creek-sized water are going to screw up the fishing for everyone they pass.

Yesterday I fished a couple of my favorite pools on the upper Sol Duc. I got to the first one while the mist was still over the water and, as I expected, a couple of smallish cutts were feeding on baetis or midges on the surface. I fished a number of BWOs for quite a while, but didn’t get a bite. The fish didn’t quite feeding, so I wasn’t putting them down, but they didn’t want anything to do with my flies. I spent over an hour on the second pool, fishing BWOs, Knutsons and Royal Coachman Bucktails. I didn’t get a bump, and the only rises I saw were little fish.

What’s going on?

Well, who really knows. The fish may have moved upstream on the recent rain. The fact that I hooked a good-sized cutt on the Clearwater tributary tends to suggest this, at least on that system. Also, all of the rivers were cold this week. The Clearwater and the Sol Duc were in the mid- to high 40s. The Sol Duc was also higher and I imagine a lot of the new water is snow melt, which probably doesn’t encourage the fish to bite. I am also a morning fisherman by nature, and I may simply be on the water while the fish are deep and sulking. I am going to fish the afternoon today and see how it goes. Or, as I already mentioned, a lot of the fish may be up in the tribs. Oh well, I expect there are some fresh cutthroat down with the coho in the lower rivers.  

I’ll let you know how I do next week. 

On the Water Log, October 16, 2008

October 16th, 2008

I have a good excuse for not posting last week: The DSL line to our place was out off-and-on for five days. It’s working again now, so here’s a briefly summary of what I have been doing.

If I lived in another part of the country and could only visit the Olympic Peninsula for two weeks, the days between my last post and this one is the time I would choose. 

I guided a few people on Hood Canal last week. We had a tough time, with only one sea-run to hand for three anglers. That was entirely different from the fishing I experienced on the same beaches two weeks earlier, when my clients were into cutthroat virtually all day. Anyone who has spent any time pursuing cutts in saltwater knows all about these wild swings.

While I was on the East Side of the peninsula, I checked out a couple of my favorite spots, both of which have fallen on hard times.

The first is the tidal reach of a small creek that drains into northern Hood Canal. I’ve fished it for 20 years, and it was as dependable for sea-runs in October as any body of water I’ve ever known. But about five years ago the salmon restoration folks got their hands on it, and now it is a complete disaster. The big flat where I routinely took saltwater-bright fish to 18 inches is now a stagnant, weedy puddle, and all the deep cuts and old beaver channels are now dry at low water.

A friend of mine who grew up a few miles from the creek–and who also happens to be a fisheries biologist–argued against the project. He told them that the system was always dominated by low head beaver dams, which held tidewater in the creek and released it slowly back toward the canal on ebb tides. This created a slow, deep and debris-filled creek.  But re-establishing ”tidal prisms” is the current craze among restoration organizations today. I think it usually is a good idea, too. But no one would believe that this creek was historically different. Now it looks just like every other small stream that flows into the canal. And the fishing is just as bad as it is in the other creeks.   

Two years ago was the first time I was ever skunked on the creek. The other day, I had my rod and waders in the car but I didn’t have the heart to fish.

I had a nicer time on one of my favorite beaver ponds. It, too, used to be a lot better than it is today. Indeed, I caught a three pound brookie and many 15-plus inch cutts in it in the 1980s. It blew out a couple of times about 10 years ago, though, and the beavers that usually repaired it had, apparently, abandoned the valley. A few years ago, new beavers arrived and fixed both the upper and lower dams. Since then, I’ve been keeping an eye on them. It doesn’t have as many–and certainly not as large–fish today. But I caught a couple of pan-sized brookies when I was there last week. I also found a big sack of chantarelles.

I guided on the Elwha Saturday, and it had dropped into fine shape after the rain earlier in the week. As always, there wasn’t much insect action early in the day–it was a cold morning–but Yellow Sallies showed up by mid-morning. They were followed by baetis and a few small caddis. In late afternoon, the October Caddis showed up, along with a couple species of mayflies, medium-sized caddis and small brown stones. The trout began feeding in the eddies and soft edges off the main flow. They were too far away to see what exactly they were feeding on, but a size 14 Elk Hair Caddis worked just fine. I know a lot of people like to fish the big October Caddis dries this time of year, but I really think the fish usually target smaller insects. I think Dicosmoecus patterns work best waked for migratory fish like sea-runs and summer runs, not resident rainbow.

The rain kicked coho fishing on the Sol Duc into higher gear, but the word got out quickly and there are a lot of people, most of whom are not fly fishers, trying to catch them. All of the easily accessible spots have had people on them early and late in the day. There are also quite a few boats on the Sol Duc and Bogachiel. If you want a silver and also want to enjoy yourself, I would try to find a river, or reach or river, that isn’t attracting such crowds and get on the water while it’s still dark. By the way, the Hoh has been in and out of shape lately. It looked fine Wednesday, but it has been raining today.

I spent yesterday on the upper Hoh, hoping for a last summer steelhead. I talked to Dave at Waters West and he had the same idea, although he planned to fish a different river. On Tuesday, I passed Curtis Reed, also of Waters West, on one of the roads that parallels another good summer steelhead river. We all know that these are the last days for summer fish for a long time.

I got incredibly lucky. Although I knew there were more fish in the Quillayute System and I wasn’t sure the Hoh  was even in shape, I wanted to fish the Hoh. The upper river, which is my favorite place to be in October, has had very few steelhead this fall. But I still wanted to fish where I wanted to fish. I also wanted to try out my new Temple Fork 8-weight Switch Rod, and the Hoh’s big gravel bars and wide open spaces are ideal for playing around with a new rod.

I didn’t have a single bite until about a half hour before I planned to go home. Oddly, I ran into more fly fishers than I have seen all summer on the river. So, in my endless quest to get away from people, I hiked into a run in the park’s fly only water.

I wasn’t frustrated by the lack of fish. I had been having a great time with the new rod, and I had been trying a lot of different flies–Steelhead Caddis, Royal Coachman Bucktail, Silver Hilton, General Practicioner and a purple marabou spider. Then, entirely on impulse, I cinched on a Gray and Orange, Syd Glasso’s precursor to the Orange Heron. I figured I would end the day with it.

The spot I was fishing is really just a deep green seam that tails off from a choppy riffle before dropping into another long stretch of broken fast water. It doesn’t look like much, but there isn’t a lot of good holding water in that particular stretch of the upper river. It was easy to fish. I stood in water up to the insteps of my boots and roll cast down-and-across. All I had to do was mend once, and then let the line swing down the slot.

The fish hit about half way down. It was a sharp telegraphing strike, then the fish streaked downstream. It jumped twice at the edge of the choppy water. It wasn’t a big fish–I guessed about 5 pounds–but very bright. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to want to go back into the fast water, and it raced back upstream into the green water.

I wasn’t used to the thin running line behind the AFS line and I made a hash out of getting line back on the reel. I was sure I would lose the fish. But it thrashed a couple of times on top, giving me time to recover, and then it streaked back downstream, once again to the edge of the broken water. It just didn’t want to go into the chop. A few minutes later,  I eased it into knee deep water.   

It was a wild fish, with the deep, almost coho-like, body of Hoh native summer steelhead. It had the first blush of pink on its gill plates and lateral line, but it was still as clean and silver as the sea. It was about six pounds. 

This morning, noticing that it didn’t really rain that much last night, I took my new rod down to the Clearwater. I wanted to catch a silver. I got a late start and knew that reduced the odds of connecting with a coho.

I didn’t. Back to reality.       

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