Ok, here's the report/story from yesterday.
Since Chris introduced the fall coho salmon fishery on the Chilliwack to me in 2002, I have experienced many other fisheries across this province. Most are much more remote than this "urban" salmon stream, yet I keep returning each year to this crowded fishery. It is difficult to explain to people why I spend hours curing roe, building spinners, getting up at 3:30am, driving 1.5 hours and waiting in the dark by the river bank where salmon carcasses stink up the air, only for a few opportunities to see that orange top of the float disappears. The simplest explanation is fun. It is fun, not in the way that searching for trout at a remote stream by yourself, but in more of a competitive aspect. It is fun to challenge yourself to catch many fish when there are hundreds of others who are seeking for the same thing. It is fun to be able to bring home some fish to eat.
A perfect fall day on the Chilliwack River is when I am able to figure out where a school of coho is, avoid being disturbed by too many anglers, entice them to bite at first light, hook them when the float goes down each time, and land these acrobatic fish which so often make my hook seem rubbery. Before each trip, I always believe it is that perfect day. Most trips end with a pair of droopy eyes on the way home, from a lack of sleep the night before and hours of float staring. Sometimes the fish are simply not there. Sometimes they simply are not biting. Sometimes the bite is on but the hook is not sticking. Those perfect days come rarely because it is hard to have all the elements working at the same time. Yesterday was one of those rare days.
After being outperformed by Nina on Monday and using the crowd as my excuse, I was determined to bring in some coho salmon yesterday. The weather forecast looked great, Cloudy and rainless. River level has also risen slightly but not too much, so the possibility of fresh fish moving in was big. Both of us knew that the fishing could be hot, so the outing was followed by another restless night. We got up at 3:00am, hoping to arrive earlier so we could fish at the spot where we wanted without much disturbance.
We stood by the river at 6:15am in the dark. There is something quite special about listening to salmon splashing in the dark, watching the sky gradually brightening up and being the first one to wet a line in a run that is untouched for almost 12 hours. Once it was bright enough to see the orange top of our floats on the water, we baited up and started our drifts. A few people arrived at the same time and chose to fish further upstream so we had plenty of space to work the run.
After several drifts, Nina's float took the first dive and she definitely was wide awake because her swift hook-set resulted in a coho salmon dancing at the end of her line. The bend in the rod suggested that it was a very good fish. I walked out of the water to give this fish some room to run. After doing its rolls and dives for a few minutes, Nina carefully slid it up into the shallow water where I identified it as a hatchery coho buck, which weighed in at 9lb. I grabbed his tail and slid him up the beach. While bleeding her first catch, I thought, "Not again, I'm going to be outfished!"
Once we rebaited and started fishing again, my float took the next dive but the hook-set only sent the entire float rig flying back to me again. It made me feel better when Nina did the exact same thing soon after. This repeated itself a few times until I brought in a small coho jack. Around the same time, Nina also landed another unusual catch, a largescale sucker. We were having a problem with small fish pecking on our roe. I quickly released this jack without bringing it to shore and decided to switch to my spinning rod so I could work with the spoon.
One problem with spoon fishing at a tailout, especially in low lighting at an unfamiliar run, is the likelihood of foul hooking a pink salmon or snagging up on the bottom. At first, I had that exact problem because I couldn't see the school of pink salmon that I kept bringing my lure through. After foul hooking a couple of pinks, I had a hard tug in the middle of the run. When I set the hook, this fish bolted downstream like a snagged chinook salmon. I held onto the rod as the fish left like a freight train. Assuming that it was a foul hooked fish, I was about to point my rod straight and give up but changed my mind when I saw a large silver body splashing in the horizon. It was a large coho salmon! At the same time, this fish had stopped running. I started walking and gaining line on my spinning reel while the fish stayed at the same spot. When I reached the the spot, I was surprised to see a big hatchery coho buck, which weighed in at 10lb later, laying on his side in the shallow tailout. He had run himself to death! The spoon hook was firmly embedded in his tongue. I never had a fish that runs without a head shake right after grabbing a lure. I dispatched this fish, grabbed onto his tail, walked back up with a big grin and made sure Nina knew that mine was bigger than her first.
As if it were a competition, Nina was into another fish not long after I wet my line again. This time, she played the fish into the shallow water pretty fast. Before she brought the fish further in, I quickly stopped her when I spotted the adipose fin on its back. I reached down and easily removed the hook from the mouth of this wild coho salmon, which was roughly 5 or 6lb. It turned around and darted back to the run without being touched.