Roderick Haig-Brown wrote a series of books called fisherman's fall, summer, winter and spring. They are wonderful books and a must have for any true northwest fishing reader. Just as fall in British Columbia brings it's own movements, changes in rhythm and melodies so too does Olympia's.
The first day of fall is portentous. The fall Chinook are moving into the Deschutes and Coho are migrating up almost all of the Southwest Washington Rivers. The Steelhead that I love to fish for in the Cowlitz are strangely drawn to flies after living in the river for a while. The first of the leaves are starting to turn and there is a bite in the air.
Today I got Mikayla and took her out to the river. We fished below the old mosquito hole and down to the fence by the golf course. I tied on a glow-bug, perfectly round reddish-orange yarn with a single spot on it that mimics a salmon egg because right now, up in the park, it's easy in the low water to see the clean patches of gravel that the female chinook have prepared for their redds. Many of them will have already laid their eggs and the cutthroat who live in the river, as well as the big sea-run fish, will be sitting behind them looking for a free easy meal.
I first fish the big gravel bar and the alders. I roll the egg pattern through the top of the run, watching the orange dot easily in the gin clear water. Once behind a downed tree I watch the flash of a small cutthroat swipe at the fly and miss. I throw it upstream a few more times hoping to bring it back with no luck. I cross the river and walk upstream towards where the old mosquito hole used to be. The bank is being cut out as the river throws an oxbow into it's path. The ledge makes a long slow deep run and I roll the egg through as I walk upstream to where a riffle runs into the head of the oxbow. I look up to the head of the riffle and see the sideways tail of a hen chinook sweeping out gravel for her redd.
I let Mikayla swing out the glo-bug easily right below the redd and follow it through the riffle. Just as it settles into the slower water on the near side a fish is on and I land a small 8in cutthroat. This is a resident fish that has come downstream just to feast on the eggs. She is silvery with a touch of gold and covered in spots that aren't round. More like freckles or speckles. In the summer and fall she would have more yellow and more spots.
I walk further up to the next riffle and see several salmon working a couple of redds. Females digging them out while the males scrap for the right to reproduce. I roll the egg through the end of the riffle with no luck. I walk further up and let it in again just below the redds and as it rolls through the tail of the riffle I see the shadow of a cutthroat come out and swipe away. It's a little bigger than the one I've caught so I work the riffle over and over again. It swipes twice, once right on the top of the water, and misses each time. After a while the salmon become agitated and several males fall back to the water where the cutthroat was. The trout doesn't ever come back after that.
I walk back downstream below the big gravel bar and find a series of redds, one after another, that sweep down into the head of the long slow bend. Again I settle the glow-bug down into the tail of the redds and wait. Three casts later a bigger fish hits the fly and fights back and forth. Mikayla comes to life as the fish surges back and forth trying to find it's way down the riffle to the series of snags that represent shelter. I work it back up to the top and let it tire. Then I wet my hand (to keep from removing scales) and lift it out of the water. It's a sea-run fish of about 13 inches, spotted and silvery. I can imagine this fish cruising around Hope Island or Briscoe Point just weeks ago, hunting sticklebacks, candlefish and sardines. Growing faster than it's cousins that stay resident in the river and like the salmon hearing the call to spawn.
Like clockwork they find their way back up just like the salmon. They become fat on eggs for the journey to follow, waiting until late winter or even early spring to spawn until again, like the chime of a great clock they will go back out to the sound to hunt baitfish again. They are the harvest trout and harvest season is my favorite to fish.
The first day of fall is portentous. The fall Chinook are moving into the Deschutes and Coho are migrating up almost all of the Southwest Washington Rivers. The Steelhead that I love to fish for in the Cowlitz are strangely drawn to flies after living in the river for a while. The first of the leaves are starting to turn and there is a bite in the air.
Today I got Mikayla and took her out to the river. We fished below the old mosquito hole and down to the fence by the golf course. I tied on a glow-bug, perfectly round reddish-orange yarn with a single spot on it that mimics a salmon egg because right now, up in the park, it's easy in the low water to see the clean patches of gravel that the female chinook have prepared for their redds. Many of them will have already laid their eggs and the cutthroat who live in the river, as well as the big sea-run fish, will be sitting behind them looking for a free easy meal.
I first fish the big gravel bar and the alders. I roll the egg pattern through the top of the run, watching the orange dot easily in the gin clear water. Once behind a downed tree I watch the flash of a small cutthroat swipe at the fly and miss. I throw it upstream a few more times hoping to bring it back with no luck. I cross the river and walk upstream towards where the old mosquito hole used to be. The bank is being cut out as the river throws an oxbow into it's path. The ledge makes a long slow deep run and I roll the egg through as I walk upstream to where a riffle runs into the head of the oxbow. I look up to the head of the riffle and see the sideways tail of a hen chinook sweeping out gravel for her redd.
I let Mikayla swing out the glo-bug easily right below the redd and follow it through the riffle. Just as it settles into the slower water on the near side a fish is on and I land a small 8in cutthroat. This is a resident fish that has come downstream just to feast on the eggs. She is silvery with a touch of gold and covered in spots that aren't round. More like freckles or speckles. In the summer and fall she would have more yellow and more spots.
I walk further up to the next riffle and see several salmon working a couple of redds. Females digging them out while the males scrap for the right to reproduce. I roll the egg through the end of the riffle with no luck. I walk further up and let it in again just below the redds and as it rolls through the tail of the riffle I see the shadow of a cutthroat come out and swipe away. It's a little bigger than the one I've caught so I work the riffle over and over again. It swipes twice, once right on the top of the water, and misses each time. After a while the salmon become agitated and several males fall back to the water where the cutthroat was. The trout doesn't ever come back after that.
I walk back downstream below the big gravel bar and find a series of redds, one after another, that sweep down into the head of the long slow bend. Again I settle the glow-bug down into the tail of the redds and wait. Three casts later a bigger fish hits the fly and fights back and forth. Mikayla comes to life as the fish surges back and forth trying to find it's way down the riffle to the series of snags that represent shelter. I work it back up to the top and let it tire. Then I wet my hand (to keep from removing scales) and lift it out of the water. It's a sea-run fish of about 13 inches, spotted and silvery. I can imagine this fish cruising around Hope Island or Briscoe Point just weeks ago, hunting sticklebacks, candlefish and sardines. Growing faster than it's cousins that stay resident in the river and like the salmon hearing the call to spawn.
Like clockwork they find their way back up just like the salmon. They become fat on eggs for the journey to follow, waiting until late winter or even early spring to spawn until again, like the chime of a great clock they will go back out to the sound to hunt baitfish again. They are the harvest trout and harvest season is my favorite to fish.
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