Yesterday’s trip was a great reminder of how amazing fall fishing can be. We left the dock from Hammond at 7 and the clouds were getting light. The water was relatively calm, but a cool wind coming from the southeast kept things chilly. It was definitely October. I double checked the bar report. After getting the all clear with minimal waves, we headed out to the lighthouse to drop crab pots. Once the pots were set it was time to start seeking Fall Coho, today’s main event.
Starting the search for Fall Coho
The tide was already coming in so I started with the obvious play, hovering near the A-Jetty. After a half hour or so with no action, we turned and headed upriver along the Washington side. The wing dam pilings create a series of diagonal seams leading out into the main channel. The ledges from the shoals they create provide another, vertical seam for the fish to follow. I followed the verticals and swerved out as I crossed the diagonals. Just off the points where they meet and the current softens the fish like to hang out. This is where the bait naturally congregates. Even though they aren’t feeding, old habits die hard.
I had five rods out, with the center one just off my right shoulder. Just as we passed through the second diagonal I caught a violent movement on the edge of my peripheral vision. A coho had slammed into the anchovy and started running. I grabbed the rod out of the rod holder and handed it off to the nearest client. He started reeling and I went for the net. I turned around with the net in hand. I was just in time to see the rod tip rise in a hook set fit for a Marlin. As the rod dropped back down, the line went slack and the thump of the flasher returned. I winced and realized I had forgotten to give the lecture about not setting the hook while trolling for salmon. This is especially true when trolling with bait.
I turned the boat, put a fresh anchovy on and redeployed the gear. I trolled through that seam again but no luck and the sonar was empty. This was a solo fish and it was time to move on. There was one more diagonal seam left on the Washington side. Just as we reached that one, another rod went down. This time it was one of the front rods set at 20 feet on the line counter. The client pulled the rod from the holder and started reeling. Before I could get the net a second time the fish had come off. While these things happen when fishing for Fall Coho, my mind went back to the trip before.
A trip gone wrong
That trip, to put it bluntly, had been a mess. I had gotten carried away with a great group of clients the day before and stayed out too long. By the time we returned to the marina it was too late to get fuel or bait. To make things worse, not only was the boat out of gas, so was I. I put off my prep until the next morning and hoped for a good night’s sleep that didn’t come.
Between fatigue, an east wind, and swirling currents, I struggled to keep the lines working properly. What should have been an easy set of limits with experienced fishermen turned into a struggle. After clearing multiple tangles and covering nearly 8 miles of river, we finally hooked into a batch of fish. We brought several keepers on board and returned to the dock. This was supposed to be a trip where I was showing off new techniques to anglers wanting to get better. While we caught fish, I left feeling like they had a longer list of what not to do. I pride myself on providing a good experience and this one put a sturgeon sized dent in my confidence.
Making Adjustments
I gritted my teeth and reminded myself that I had prepared for this trip properly. All of my gear had been retied ahead of time. The boat was ready the night before. By the time the clients arrived I already had multiple spare baits rigged. The new 10’6″ Talon rods were set up front and the rod holders re-arranged. I had changed to lighter weights in the back to get the lines further apart. I just needed to focus on finding the fish and double checking the setups.
My mind quickly reviewed what had just happened. I checked the drag on the rod that had just lost the fish. It would have been good for a stuffer bait or a spinner, but was much too tight for an anchovy. Salmon will attempt to disable an anchovy and then eat it. They will abandon the bite if they get too much initial resistance. I loosened it up a bit and then double checked the rest of the rods as well. I turned the boat to follow diagonal seam across towards the checkerboard marker at the top of Desdemona sands.
My eyes shifted between the water, the rod tips, and the sonar. I looked desperately for the telltale marks of fish under the boat. Finally as the depth moved up to 35 feet I saw the first bait ball. I held my breath, praying that there would be a coho hanging with the bait. The depth decreased to 30 feet and the bait ball passed to the edge of the screen. I looked out ahead and saw some gulls working a school of bait. We headed towards them, but nothing happened.
I spotted another seam and thought “maybe this one”. The seam was one of the vertical ones that parallel the north side of the Desdemona sands. I turned to port, pointing the boat upriver again. One of the front rods folded over and then started dancing. Fish on! This was number 3 and I was determined to get it in. I repeated my mantra of “don’t set the hook”, “keep reeling” and “don’t give it any slack”. I headed for the net and kept an eye on the rod. The client was doing everything near perfectly. I advised him to lower the rod tip and do his best to keep the fish under the water. Pulling a fall coho to the surface early can result in cartwheels, thrown hooks, and disappointment.
The fish glided near the boat, just under the surface. I dipped the net under it and lifted up, surrounding the fish, but keeping it in the water. I thought I had seen an adipose fin and I wanted to be careful. Sure enough, a spotted adipose fin rose just in front of the tail. I removed the hooks and gave the client the news that this fish was not going home with him. I lifted the fish carefully so as not to injure it. After a quick picture and a moment to say goodbye, the fish darted away. I imagined I might see it again in a week or so, in a local creek, getting ready to spawn. We had three hits, one to the boat, but no fish in the bag. I was still feeling the pressure.
Finally, a keeper
I did my best to hover in the area where we caught the last fish. The tide had started pushing hard and my instincts told me that I needed to follow the fish. I turned the boat upriver and picked my way along the seams, moving between 20 and 30 feet of water. Another bait ball appeared on the screen and this time it looked like there was a coho underneath it. Suddenly the same rod went down again. The fish rocketed up to the surface and started doing its best impression of a steelhead. It danced and flipped while I held my breath with the net.
Finally it came within reach but then darted out ahead of the boat. This was a worst case scenario, it’s easy for them to throw slack while you catch up to them. I increased the throttle and we caught up to the fish. The client lifted the tip of the rod and I slid the net underneath a beautiful hatchery fall coho hen. I lifted her into the boat and examined her. She had swallowed the anchovy. One hook set deep in her throat and the second hook was buried in the tip of her lower jaw. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. For the client, this was a memorable, happy moment. for me, this was a relief. My confidence began to return.
A grand finale
We continued following that seam all the way above the bridge. We had a few more take downs and landed another 3. The prize of the day was a beautiful 16 lb buck fall coho for the eldest member of the party. and then turning around as the tide started moving back out. Eventually we returned to the spot where we hooked our first keeper. Just as we approached the point where two seams met a rod folded over. The clients, now experienced with catching coho sprung into action.
One handed me the net and another started reeling in the fish. Just as I started reaching to get the net under it, I heard the call of “fish on!”. I looked over and the client that handed me the net was doing his best to handle another fish. Fall Coho are expert dancers and this one was proving its ability. I unhooked the leader from the first fish and told the client to put the rod away. The second fish danced across the back of the boat, threatening to catch the remaining lines. It rounded the back of the boat. I lifted the net to get the first fish in as deep as possible. The second fish came to the surface and I jabbed the net under it. A successful double!
I was wrong though. The youngest of the group was yelling “fish, fish, fish!!!” It wasn’t a double, it was a triple. I handed the net off with instructions to hold it there. I ran to the front of the boat for the backup net and started heading towards the stern. They had left the rod in the holder. I groaned, the fish had gotten off once they reeled it all the way up. Once they ran out of line to reel, they could no longer keep it tight.
I double checked the two fish in the net. One wild, and one hatchery. After releasing the wild fish, we were up to 5 fish in the bag. Not bad for late October fall coho fishing in the estuary. We continued trolling for a little while longer. The ebb chop started to build and we had crab pots to retrieve. I suggested we head down and the clients asked for 5 more minutes. I gave them 10 while I scoped out a promising seam. A 6th fish wasn’t to be.
We headed down to the lighthouse and pulled up the crab pots. They yielded two dozen large keeper crab. The smiles were ear to ear. I turned the boat towards Hammond with the sun starting to hang low towards Fort Stevens. We pulled into the dock, took care of business and said our farewells. The client who had booked the trip took a picture with me. He wanted to remember what I looked like so that he could book again.
Closure
I pulled the boat out on the trailer. I walked over by the pay station and took a moment to watch the waves breaking across the Desdemona sands. A flock of ducks whirled over the marina. This was one of those magical moments that I treasure. Just me and the river. I started saying a silent thank you when an eagle circled around and swooped towards the dock. It lifted off, carrying what looked like a fish head that someone had left. A blue heron swung low and then swooped up landing on a piling. “Columbia, you’ve outdone yourself today, thank you” I whispered. I smiled, walked to the truck and drove home.
The rains are coming in the next few days and I expect the fish to move upriver quickly now. Fall Coho are on a schedule to get their eggs in the gravel and hatched. Heavy winter floods in late December can scour them out. They can also be accidentally evicted by winter steelhead making room for their own offspring. One of the best years for coho in recent memory is coming to an end.
The crab are large and here in numbers. There will be plenty of them to fuel adventures through the fall. I’ve been spoiled this year. The fish have been plentiful and the weather has been good. I’m looking forward to next year but know that I need to re-calibrate for Spring Chinook season. The fishing will be harder, and the weather will be tougher. Hopefully I’ll be able to catch up with some returning clients, swap some new stories, and meet some new friends.
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