February 2009

When I returned from Denmark in late January, I wrote an email to Luke about our upcoming winter and spring fishing plans. As usual, I included a couple of recent fishing photographs in the email, hoping to motivate him so he would join me on these cold days. A week later, I received the unfortunate news that he had passed away after complication in a surgery. It was very unexpected, because Luke was just a couple of weeks away from turning 43.

Luke’s two passions were fishing and sailing. He was not the best fisherman, but he was a great fishing partner. I would like to use this opportunity to share some of our most memorable fishing trips, to celebrate and remember the life of Luke Kominami.

We first met in 2003 when he volunteered to help at Fish for the Future. Even though he enjoyed fishing, he had never tried river fishing so I introduced fall coho fishing to him in fall 2004. The addiction wasn’t hard to pick up. First he bought a drift rod, then his uncle bought him a Calcutta Conquest. These were followed by waders, boots and fishing vest. Roe curing came not long after that. When I picked him up for fishing one morning, he showed me this piece of wood. “Look what I carved up last night. It’s my new float for today!”

Because we both have flexible work hours, we were able to fish on weekdays. During the peak of the season, he often showed up at my doorstep at 4:30am so we could stand by the Chilliwack before sunrise. October 6th was the best day for us in 2004. We both caught many coho salmon and watched a big chinook salmon engulfing a big chunk of his roe just below the water surface.

We also fished the Tidal Fraser River regularly during the salmon season. Although we always had success on pink salmon, Luke always seemed to be able to entice those freshly arrived chum salmon. Whenever we see chum salmon moving by, we would always say, “Luke should be here, he would be catching them unlike us right now.”

After doing more sailing than fishing for two years, he joined me for another coho salmon season in 2007. We did not catch as many fish as previous seasons, but one trip that lasted from dawn to dusk stood out from others. October 5th 2007 was sunny and the Chilliwack River was getting low and clear. The search for coho salmon took us up and down the river. We were both unsuccessful in searching and landing fish. Most runs were void of feeding fish while we had long-line releases at others. Finally, persistence paid off at dusk, when we both hooked into a couple of chunky coho salmon. We were completely exhausted, but glad that we had kept at it until the end.

Our last fishing trip took us to the Squamish River on October 29th, 2008. The rain poured heavily that day. I was on a mission to find a school of big coho salmon, so I was pacing fast and Luke was having trouble keeping up as usual. His only fish from the trip was a bull trout and there were no sightings of coho after six hours of searching. I suggested that we visit one more spot that may possibly produce. His first words were, “Does it involve walking?”

We arrived at the last spot by car and I bolted downstream to the run where I thought the fish were holding. Meanwhile, Luke stayed under the canopy to dry a little and catch his breath. I arrived at the run, whipped the lure out and immediately hooked into a large coho salmon. I looked upstream and screamed “Luke!”

A small figure started moving in the trees. The evening fog started creeping in at the same time. After I released the fish, I sat and waited but there were no signs of Luke. I could not see anything beyond 100 feet because of the fog by this point, so I resumed fishing. I did not encounter another fish as I had first expected so I returned to the car, only to find Luke sitting by it.

“Where did you go?”, I asked.
“I heard you calling, so I moved down, but then I heard you again and thought that you were back at the car, so I walked back.”, he replied.
“Huh??”, I thought, then I realized that he must have heard my echo in the fog.

Our last fishing trip was unsuccessful and We were completely soaked from head to toe, but enjoyable nevertheless. These are moments created from a fishing bond that will be remembered and treasured forever.

Luke was the type of person who would apologize repeatedly for being one minute late. He never asked for favours, but helped others when needed even if it meant inconvenience for himself. Sometimes he did things that made us wandered, “how did he do that?”, like the time when he beat us all in ten pin bowling. Other times he did things that made us wandered, “why is he doing that?”, like the times when he made a weir to hold his catches even though there wasn’t a current in the water. He will be remembered whenever we stand on the river bank where we once fished on.

Three hook-ups on Thursday, two on Friday, one on Saturday, one on Sunday, perhaps I can stretch the good luck streak to five days. I went down to the sweet spot at 4:30pm to catch one hour of fishing before dark. The wind was blowing pretty hard but in the favorable direction so casting feathers was not an issue.

This is what the fish fell for yesterday.

I casted around on the beach for thirty minutes before wandering onto the rocks. Just as I was ready to take another step, I ran into this.

It was just tucking itself into a ball and staring at me. At first I thought it was dead after finding so many dead birds lately. Obviously it was injured, otherwise it would have moved away long before I walked up to it. I decided to make a call to have it picked up, but first I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to look like an idiot if it flew away when the animal control guy showed up. I walked more closely, it moved a bit and showed its injured leg. It attempted to fly, but it was too tired.

Soon after a few phone calls, someone from Richmond Animal Protection Society arrived and it wasn’t a challenge to catch it.

I resumed fishing, hoping that Mother Nature would reward me after some good deed. I don’t ask for much, a 12lb bull trout, or 12 1lb cutthroat trout would do. No such luck, it got dark not long after so I ended the shortest outing of this month.

Just another exciting fishing adventure at Garry Point Park.

The weather didn’t look so appertizing today, after so many sunny days that we had this month. I still talked myself into heading out for a few hours, it just wouldn’t seem right if I did not fish on my birthday. The wading jacket came out from the closet again and off I went to Garry Point at 2:30pm, just before the tide peaked.

Yesterday surface action had me tossing around the idea of using fry patterns just in case those were in fact what they were feeding on. I threw some fry patterns from last year into the box, just in case the big ugly leech did not work.

A couple of fish rolled once again just before the tide peaked. I missed a couple of hits, but overall it was a rather slow but relaxing day. At 5:00pm, just before I was ready to pack up, one bull trout decided to take the fry pattern just below the surface. I saw a big flash in the water as soon as I hooked it. It didn’t seem bigger than the other ones that I have been catching, but it put up the strongest fight out of all the fish in the last several days. It took a few minutes, but it was not a problem on the 6wt rod.

Once I released it, it was time to call it a day as I was pretty wet and cold. It was a good birthday present from Mr Fraser.

Once the bite is on, it just does not stop! We returned for the third day in a row to see if a hat trick could be produced. The fish did not disappoint us, at least one of them anyway. This little guy fell for the same chartreuse leech pattern and we could not entice several other risers, both big and small, right in front of us. Another fantastic February fishing day in the Tidal Fraser River under the sun.

After experiencing some phenomenal winter estuary fishing yesterday, there was no question that I had to return today. Would these fish be at the same spot again? They might, they might not. The unknown can keep drawing me back day after day, the tug is definitely a drug. Today I returned with the fly rod and brought Marco along. The tide was right, the sun was still shining, it was going to be a good day regardless if there were fish or not.

Our first stop was obviously to where I found some fish yesterday. Both of us flung our flies out. I chose to use a big chartreuse bunny strip out, just something that I had tied up roughly (well, I can only tie up flies roughly…). Marco tried some of his minnow patterns. Big vs small, whose fly was going to tempt those hungry wolves in the bay?

Garry Point Park was packed with kids today, probably because the weather was so nice. Who could expect almost T-shirt weather in February? The wading jacket came off today, it was very enjoyable to fish without so much weight on the back.

Fifteen minutes went by, we looked like two colourful clowns flinging whips around for no apparent reason to other park goers. Finally there was a sign. I felt and missed a quick tug in the shallow while chatting away. It was definitely a fish, the stripping speed was fast enough to keep the fly off the weed bed. Now I was excited, connecting with a fish on the fly would be a first in the Tidal Fraser for me. I kept sending the fly back to the same spot, hoping to find another tug, which came not long after. This time the fish was not so quick. A swift hookset brought out some flashes directly in front of me. “Fish! Fish!”, I made sure Marco was aware of what was happening as if he was a mile away, but he was actually just standing next to me.

It was not a big bull trout, the smallest one I’ve seen this year actually. I slid it into my hands after a short fight. Size does not really matter when it is a first on a new technique.

I sat back on the log to dry myself off while Marco, who seemed to be in disbelief but glad to see a fish, returned to fishing right away. By now we had the attention from people in the surrounding area. We were no longer the colourful clowns who flung whips around pointlessly. “Is that a salmon?” “Why did you let it go?” If the answers get people out fishing, then we’d gladly answer them.

Once I was not so saturated with water, I went back to my lucky spot. I chose to cast more closely to the rocks, thinking that there maybe fish in shallower water. To my disbelief, I left another tug at the beginning of my strip. The hook was never set, I simply wasn’t prepared for it. After a dozen or so more casts, another fish attacked the fly. The strike this time was hard enough that it was hooked solidly from a light hookset. It swam toward me quickly while I stripped in my line madly. Once I caught up to what appeared to be a bigger fish, it swam straight out, peeling a good length of line from my Islander reel. I was getting spoiled at this point. Five hook-ups in two days at a spot that is five minutes from my house is more than what one can ask for. In the meantime, Marco took over the camera and captured some shots until the fish was landed.

It was definitely much bigger than the first fish, in both length and weight.

Beside spotting a rise in a different bay, these were the only two fish of the day. It wraps up a week of winter bull trout hunt in the Estuary Fraser River nicely. Good luck to all who plan to venture out this weekend. Take advantage of these perfect fishing conditions while they last.

I’ve been dropping by Steveston for a couple of hours each day between work to see if I could intercept a bull trout or two. The timing has always been the same, fishing for two hours just after flood tide. You would think that it should not be too hard to see at least a fish by systematically fishing through the same spots with the same lures. That has not been the case. Beside finding dead items on the beach, every outing was unsuccessful.

It is winter after all, fishing is usually pretty slow, but I couldn’t help but wonder what was happening here. Before each outing, I thought, “Today’s the day.” and after the outing I thought, “Tomorrow’s the day.” It was only a matter of time before I come across a school of fish, but it better happened soon because motivation was depleting fast.

Flood tide was around noon today so I dropped by Garry Point Park after an early lunch. Upon my arrival on the beach, I spotted a welcoming sight right in the corner of my eyes. A fish had just splashed in knee-deep water where I know the bottom is covered with rocks. Surface activities are extremely unusual for this time of the year. When they take place, it usually indicates a school of fish that are actively feeding. I quickly sent a spoon out to the deeper water by the edge of that shallow rock patch, hoping to grab their attention. First couple of casts produced no reactions, then on the third retrieve I could clearly see a large bull trout following behind the lure from the rock where I was standing. I could see the large white oval spots as it swam like a submarine without any side motions. It must have spotted me, because it darted away after I spotted it for a couple of seconds. “Argh!”, I thought. I looked around me. Lunch breakers were just going about with their own business, no one obviously saw what I had just experienced. It felt like I just saw a volcano errupting.

Not to worry, if there was one, there should be many others. It took a few more casts before I hooked up just several feet in front of me. The bite once again felt like a light slow pull. The hookset was poor. I was able to feel that it was a heavy fish before the hook popped out! That has always been a problem when fishing with spoons. The hook seems to dislodge itself quite easily. Perhaps it is the combination of the heavy spoon and light spinning rod, resulting in not setting the hook precisely.

I quickly switched to a 1/8oz spinner, which produced well for me last fall. I felt a light tug on the first retrieve, so there had to be at least two fish in front of me. I continued casting from right to left, covering the entire area by sweeping across it. A few more minutes went by and another hook-up resulted in the rod bending to the cork. This felt like a solid hook-set so I had a lot more confidence. The fish took some sporatic runs and deep dives, which are pretty typical behaviour of a bull trout. By now lunch breakers behind me were paying attention. I was no longer a nut who stood in the cold water for no apparent reason.

I brought the fish in after a fairly lengthy fight. It was slender unlike fatties that are caught in fall and spring, but a rather long fish, which I estimated to be around 18 inches. All the fish that I’ve encountered this winter were around this size, perhaps it is the age group that tends to hang around the estuary during the winter months.

Finally I had a fish in my hands, but there must be more! I fished the same area for twenty more minutes with no result, so it was time to move and return later. The other bays did not produce after I fished them for thirty minutes, which wasn’t really that surprising. I returned to the original spot, hoping to find one more fish before heading home.

To my disbelief, a fish rolled right in front of me just when I was securing my footing on the slippery rocks. I quickly threw the spinner out but could not entice it after ten casts or so. If it was still in the area, it’d bite eventually, right?

Of course! Again a fish followed in and attacked the lure just as it went between two rocks. I actually saw the fish grabbing the lure before feeling anything on the rod. It wiggled a few times in front of me before peeling line off the reel as it headed into the deep. This was fantastic! I found a shallow flat bottom where I could stand on and played it for several minutes before guiding it in. It was slightly longer and fatter than the previous fish.

Sighting of one follower, three hook-ups, a couple of misses, it was time to wrap up while it was good. The water clarity of the Fraser River is better than one could ask for right now, so take advantage of it as there are definitely some hungry fish swimming around.

 

The jacket is slimed, the racoon tan is starting to show on the face, this is fishing in February in Southwestern BC.

Well, the bull trout fishing has been slow in Steveston, as expected. One cannot ask for better water clarity, but there simply aren’t many fish chasing metals and flies. Because so much walking is involved when searching for these fish, I tend to bump into interesting items, both fishing and non-fishing related. I thought that I could not encounter anything odd or new after combing through the beaches so many times, but some of the latest findings were pretty strange.

This was the first shrimp that I’ve seen washed up on the beach at the Fraser mouth. I guess salinity of the estuary water is high enough in the winter for them to creep in. That would explain why some anglers caught herring last week by the buckets around Steveston during high tide.

A dead sockeye salmon on the rocks this time of the year? Perhaps it was last year’s fish that has been thrown away recently, but from where?

So why are there so many dead birds around this winter? Since late January, I’ve found 7 dead seagulls. Were they shot? Lack of food? Bird flu? It is rather bizarre.

January 27th, this one almost looks animated.

February 11th, bird identification please. Send your answer to info@fishingwithrod.com.

February 17th, this one had some big gashes just under the neck.

One last note. I just published a new article on Tidal Fraser River light spincasting last week, which focuses on three species - Bull trout, cutthroat trout and northern pikeminnow. Check it out if you are interested in checking out this under-utilized fishery.

The first episode of 2009’s video diary is now available on the website. This ten minute video feature is only available to subscribers. Episode one features the summer chinook salmon fishery on the Thompson River. Please click here for a preview. Enjoy!

Conditions on the Chilliwack River much improved today as was the fishing for some. I did not get a bite but was able to tube one from another angler. Thanks Larry!

When you bring home that prized catch, do you fillet your fish and throw away the rest? The bones usually carry a few more hundred grams of meat, depending on how well the fish is filleted. Although it does not seem much, it could be precious waste especially when the current salmon and steelhead stocks are not what they used to be.

I usually prefer to save the leftovers after filleting. They are then cut into pieces and pan fried after being seasoned with salt and pepper. The meat can be removed from the bones quite easily and make a good meal or two when mixed with rice or pasta.

Once I get in the habit of getting up early, especially in the steelhead season, I just cannot not sleep in so today was no different. Besides I like to be able to report the river conditions the best I can for those that may wish to make a trip to the Vedder. I understand many have to drive a fair distance before they can make their first cast so I believe it helps to some degree. Of course with the ongoing clay bank slides the conditions can color up in a hurry if more clay falls in.

I was in no hurry to get to the river so I got bit of a late start and took the time to put coffee in my Maple Leaf travel mug before I made the 5 minute trip to the river. Daylight had broken when I headed to the river and if there was any angler fishing the run where I was heading, I would go elsewhere. As I saw the run was vacant, I continued on. On the way, I saw two rods walking by it, heading to their hot spot I guess.

I put on some steelhead bait with the usual bit of pink wool, slipped off my back pack and put the coffee mug down too; I was planning to make this a leisurely trip as well as a short one.

I worked through the run once, twice, working the run carefully before stopping to finish off the now luke warm coffee. A run above had been vacant so I headed for a few casts there too but like the starting run no bites, so back downstream I went, starting at the head of the run once again.

I had about 10 or 12 anglers in view, all intend to coax a steelhead to grab their offerings, to give them the thrill of a lifetime, maybe with a 20 pound bit of chrome.

I still had the original piece of bait on looking a bit pale and worse for wear. As I neared the tail out I was just thinking, should put on a pro-cured cooked ghost shrimp when the Maple Leaf Drennan dipped; I striked but did not feel anything solid. Was it bottom? No, with the depth I was fishing it should not be, unless it was a cut-off branch from a beaver or snag that had drifted into the run overnight. One never knows for sure though. A couple of cast later the same scenario, I checked the bait, its looked like it was pulled down some. Next cast down went the MLD again, I solidly set the hook and the possible snag had now turned into a head shaking steelhead. Once this fish felt the resistance and restraining order of my Sage rod off it went. It felt strong and larger than the 4 others that have come to hands so far this year. Line peeled quickly and smoothly off the drum of the well worn and roe covered Grice and Young reel, which was bought by my dad in England in the 80’s.

It used the current to its advantage and headed to the other side of the run, maybe seeking for a snag overhanging the bank so it could wrap around it and snap the 8 pound test leader. I wonder at times how they know where these obstacles are. I kept it under control and in the run for maybe 5 minutes. I was getting it close to shore but another run took it below the tail out. I had no choice but to let it have its way by keeping the tension as tight as I dare as it easily swam through the ripples. I saw its whole body for the first time, definitely the biggest I have tangled with this season. My spine tingled.

I knew what laid below, a nice place to land the fish in, was the advantage now mine? Another angler who had been working this spot even before I reached the river pulled in his line. We chatted as I continued playing the fish, “missed two here so far, need a hand?”, he says. “No that’s OK.”, I said. The fish was co-operating at first by staying in this deeper bit of water but it was swimming back and forth for 3 or 4 minutes. I was gaining and bringing the steelhead in close enough to see it was a hatchery buck that I estimated to be close to 14lb. The fish now felt the gravel on its stomach, in the shallows of the one foot deep backwater area and took off again for a couple of times. I started to wonder, as it twisted and turned, if the bought barbless hook will hold and I thought back to the posts on the forum about this subject last night.

I knew the fish was tired and it once again tried to use the current to its advantage but I maybe applying  more pressure than I should but a possible disaster laid below. A cut bank of sorts that could make a smooth landing difficult. I was testing the strength of the leader I know. My urging successfully brought the fish up to the backwater area once again and I now easily slid the tired buck ashore. On the gradual slope, I reached down to grab the wrist of the fish’s tail, the steelhead now left the confines of the water.

With the license marked, I was off to get an official weight at Fred’s Custome Tackle and it came in a bit over 13lb. I think it was 13.17 when converted from the metric scales to imperial measurement.

This ended an eventful week of steelhead fishing on the Vedder River with another week, another journal lays ahead, what it holds, who knows.

I do know how lucky we are to have such a great steelhead producing river practically at our doorsteps. Enjoy all what it all has to offer, to those that like to pursue this mighty seagoing rainbow trout.