More Pink Ponderings

Well, I said I was done fishing fishing Pinks but I lied...  I've been out four more times since I made that original decision and I'm not sure I'm done just yet since the fish still seem to be cooperating even here in mid-September.  So now the action has extended itself for a solid month and, over the past 30 days, I've been out 15 times for an average of a trip every other day.  I'm sure the run has provided lights out fishing for some folks but for me its been more slow and steady the whole way through.  Sort of a slow burn but rather satisfying and we've enjoyed this 2011 season immensely.

These last few trips provided me with some Florida-style run and shoot where we were chasing down visible pods of fish and lining up ahead of them as they moved.  I got my son, Terry, up on the casting deck in the front of my boat and used the electric trolling motor to pull us quietly within casting range.  One time they came by us close enough that he got to watch the lead fish move over and take his fly.  It doesn't get any better than that...  

One of my favorite moments was finding a pod resting on the surface in 300 feet of water.  They were quietly milling about with their fins sticking up above the surface.  I have since seen this several times and it's provided an impressive moment or two when either a seal or a nearby boat motor has spooked the happy fish and the entire surface area explodes as the fish scatter and disappear.  

We're learning lots about their behavior and I'm already looking forward to 2013...

Last Thoughts on Pink Salmon

I've pretty much decided I'm done fishing the Pinks for this season.  It was a lot of fun and there were many adventures along the way.  Below are some of my favorite fish photos...

Who said Pinks are ugly?  Here's proof they aren't...

Terry Jones

David Dietrich

One of Rod's bigger fish.

Seals & Otters

I was fishing off a point with two guys in the boat one evening last week when I saw some commotion in the water, approximately twenty feet off-shore.  The tide was low, the sun was setting, and I was trying to make out if what I saw was a rock in the surf or something else.  I pushed my face forward, squinting to see if I could make out what was going on.  It only took a few seconds to realize I was looking at three otters playing in the surf.  They were rolling and kicking up water.  I stood up, pointed, and called them out for my companions.  We watched them rough-housing for a minute and then saw them hurry out of the water and lope along the shoreline in front of us.  They quickly turned and ran away from the water as if to head into the tree-line above the beach.  

They stopped short, however, and turned in front of an old log to look back.  They seemed to be looking right at me and I wondered if I had invaded their safe zone.  Had I pushed them up on the beach by getting too close?  I was a good forty yards off-shore and didn't think I was too close but they looked agitated, stepping sideways, back and forth, like they wanted to come back to the water but I was in the way.

I was thinking I might back the boat out a bit further and give them some room when the real reason for their anxiety materialized in the water between us.  A seal's head poked up and he was looking directly at the otters.  They were looking intently back at him.

I realized then what was going on.  Harbor Seals are known to enjoy a tasty otter snack from time to time and these three little guys weren't inclined to oblige him.  They turned and ran into the trees, disappearing from sight and far out of reach of pesky seals.

I score that one: Otters 1, Seals 0

Puget Sound Pink Ponderings

JOURNAL NOTE (August 24th):  The bay boat is tied up at the marina.  I've just dropped off two guys who were out fishing with me all day and I'm waiting for two other guests to come out for the evening fish.  Puget Sound has been good to us for a couple weeks now with mostly sunny weather and steady fishing for Pink Salmon.  But this evening, clouds have moved in from the south and the wind has picked up.  The cool breeze feels good on my sunburn.   

This is my ninth trip out in nine days and I'm looking forward to taking the day off tomorrow.  This much time on the water has started to have a cumulative affect on my level of energy.  By the time I'm done chasing these fish I know I will be exhausted and, as a middle-aged guy, this concerns me.  Now that my hair is gray I worry a lot about looking like a wuss.  My  youngest son tells me not to worry so much.  "Just embrace it, Dad."  He says. 

In my youth, I would hike up a mountain and fish fourteen hours on a raging stream until darkness drove me home.  Now I ride most of the day in the comfort of a boat and begin thinking about a nap half-way through.  

My son was fly fishing for Albacore thirty-five miles off the coast of Oregon a week ago.  Next to him was an older gentleman in a wheelchair, hooking more fish than anyone else on the boat.  The next time I want to slack off and blame it on my age, I'll have to think of that guy and suck it up a little... 

Go Outside and Play

The sunrise was in full bloom as I threw a pink and white minnow pattern into six feet of water near shore. I let it sink for a ten-count and began a slow, steady strip-retrieve.

Pink Salmon were rolling and jumping all around us and I looked up to watch, noting three other boats in the same general vicinity along with one Seal...

I felt the line go tight and muttered loudly, "Got one..."

The fish came to the surface and rolled soon after being hooked and I got to see he was above-average in size. He proved it by running off and taking me almost to my backing. As I worked to bring him back, I noted the strong bend in the 7-weight rod. Having broke my 6-weight the day before, I had grudgingly stepped up one size. Now I was grateful for the extra heft.

I eventually worked him back to the boat but he refused to be beaten and did two full circles around the boat. As I put more and more pressure on him, he eventually came alongside. My fishing partner reached down with the net. The fish saw it coming and surged quickly, breaking my leader and leaving me staring...

That was the big fish of the day. And as big a Pink Salmon as I've ever hooked. I knew it was over five pounds, closer to eight.

I could only shrug and tie on a new fly to try again. Between us we boated around ten fish before quitting at 10:30...

______________________

Getting up at 3:00AM every day this week would not normally be my idea of fun... And yet it has become such. Seeing the sun rise on Puget Sound in August is a magnificent experience and chasing fiesty Pink Salmon in shallow water is exciting stuff...

An Orange Dry Fly & Bored Grown Children

The river is big but it's August so there is plenty of room to walk along the banks without having to brave the strong current. Both of my boys and my nephew, Telson, have come along to explore a place none of us have been to on the south side of Mt. St. Helens...


Of course, it doesn't take long and the boys are goofing along the shore while I'm still diligently fishing and trying to get a 50 foot cast to go 60 feet... This is one of those simple rivers and my fly selection is about as simple as it gets: orange Caddis, then orange Stimulator, then orange Humpy. They all work... The sun has been behind the sharp hillside for over an hour and we only have about 45 minutes of light left so I look to see where the boys are.


They are fifty yards down river, kneeling over a large, flat rock. My youngest has challenged his big brother to an arm-wrestling contest and for the first time in his life he wins. He yells upriver at me.


"Hey, Dad. I beat him! Twice!..."


"Nice." I return.


They come up to watch me for a while and then wander off to whittle marshmallow sticks for later. I thought these times would fade as the boys left high school and became men but here we are, giving me a deja vu moment that takes me back to when they were six and eight and playing in the rocks behind me while I fished. I guess some things don't change as fast as I think they do.


It turns out to be a good evening, with six or seven fish landed before I quit. And all on dries... It has been hard to see my fly on the water for some time now so I turn to shout and tell the boys it's time to leave.


They are downriver again, each bent over a stick, knives in hand.


"Hey!" I shout. "I'm not going to wait all night for you guys! Let's go..."


They grin and give it back to me just as good.


"Yah, Dad. Just one more cast, right?"


"We'll go when we see you actually go..."


I love fly fishing with my boys. Even when that's really not what we're doing together...

July in the Salt

Last Saturday, there were lots of boats launching with me, even at 6:00 in the morning, and it would be a busy day on Puget Sound with Salmon fishermen working the traditional spots and the first day of crab season inviting even more folks out for the day. I zoomed by all of them and snuck inside the crabbers working in 40 feet of water to fish in-shore with an intermediate sink line for Sea-Run Cutthroat in two to seven feet of water.

I was literally all alone in an urban setting full of other boats and fishermen. It made me chuckle to realize that even here you can come up with a strategy to avoid fishing elbow to elbow.

The tide started to move pretty fast and I used the trolling motor on my boat to maintain my position in fifteen feet of water. Casting among the kelp and sea grass along shore, I let the small gray fly sink and then stripped it out into deeper water. Every once in a while a fish would follow all the way back to the boat. But other times I would see a quick flash and I knew the tug on my line was another fiesty Cutt... I was quite content and when the tide started to go slack I ran back in and was home by lunch.

Easy and casual, just the way we always want it. I need to seek more of these simple experiences...