Southwest Washington is a place I’ve been meaning to explore for a long time. Access is difficult, but rivers and fish are plenty. Yesterday I finally decided to make the trek in hopes of encountering the late run coho that supposedly enter rivers there. I did not encounter any, either because the run had already passed, or because the rain we had that day just wasn’t enough to push them in. It was also a good opportunity to connect with a buddy from marine bio who lives in Vancouver. Despite not finding any fresh coho, we saw dozens of stale A run (or maybe the B run was early this year?) fish sitting in holes, and at least a thousand if not more chum carcasses. I’m not kidding when I say I probably saw 100 dead fish every 100 yd.
My main fly for the day with a jig to match:
The first spot we decided to hit was well known public access. Unfortunately, the spot was packed, and we opted to keep moving. I’d driven past a pull out with a truck near another river, and figured that would likely be access to a river. We opted not to take that spot as parking was tight, and since we weren’t sure how much room the spot was we moved on to be respectful.
The next access point was a locked logging road. Fortunately, the company is generous enough to allow foot access. A short walk brought us to the “river”, which really was smaller than most creeks I fish. We naturally moved on to another logging road access to a different river.
My buddy deduced through maps that there should be a trail leading off the road to the river. What we ended up doing instead was bushwhacking for 45 minutes through completely desolate paths. We finally find a clearing and made our way to the river!
Immediately, we are greeted with the foul stench of decaying fish, many genuine giants. There was good water but just one hookup. I heard my buddy hooting and hollering. By the time I got there the fish was gone, but he told me it was a small dime bright coho.
While walking upstream, we encountered several schools of stale coho, hunkered down in deep holes. This is when I regretted not bringing my sinking poly leaders, but I’m not even sure if it would have made a difference except leading to snagged fish. The fish reacted to my fly, (which swims naturally and beautifully I’m happy to report) but in a negative way, moving away from it rather than towards it. A smaller more sparse fly got some attention, but the fish quickly started moving away from it too.
We moved in the opposite direction, deciding to walk downstream until we reached the road, where we found much easier entrance and egress from the river. I’ll probably use that access in the future, the whole river is basically wadable, and If that spot is full I could just wade higher.
This is probably the most wading and hiking I’ve ever done to find salmon. A couple trout adventures came close but this may have edged them out too. I was rewarded with complete solitude, and plenty of fish viewing opportunities in what felt like a truly wild place. I’m sure this river would be a goldmine for cutthroat in the summer, and my buddy claims he saw a chinook carcass too, might make it worth carrying an 8wt just in case. I hope I have the chance to come back here when fish are more plentiful and eager to take a fly or lure!
My main fly for the day with a jig to match:
The first spot we decided to hit was well known public access. Unfortunately, the spot was packed, and we opted to keep moving. I’d driven past a pull out with a truck near another river, and figured that would likely be access to a river. We opted not to take that spot as parking was tight, and since we weren’t sure how much room the spot was we moved on to be respectful.
The next access point was a locked logging road. Fortunately, the company is generous enough to allow foot access. A short walk brought us to the “river”, which really was smaller than most creeks I fish. We naturally moved on to another logging road access to a different river.
My buddy deduced through maps that there should be a trail leading off the road to the river. What we ended up doing instead was bushwhacking for 45 minutes through completely desolate paths. We finally find a clearing and made our way to the river!
Immediately, we are greeted with the foul stench of decaying fish, many genuine giants. There was good water but just one hookup. I heard my buddy hooting and hollering. By the time I got there the fish was gone, but he told me it was a small dime bright coho.
While walking upstream, we encountered several schools of stale coho, hunkered down in deep holes. This is when I regretted not bringing my sinking poly leaders, but I’m not even sure if it would have made a difference except leading to snagged fish. The fish reacted to my fly, (which swims naturally and beautifully I’m happy to report) but in a negative way, moving away from it rather than towards it. A smaller more sparse fly got some attention, but the fish quickly started moving away from it too.
We moved in the opposite direction, deciding to walk downstream until we reached the road, where we found much easier entrance and egress from the river. I’ll probably use that access in the future, the whole river is basically wadable, and If that spot is full I could just wade higher.
This is probably the most wading and hiking I’ve ever done to find salmon. A couple trout adventures came close but this may have edged them out too. I was rewarded with complete solitude, and plenty of fish viewing opportunities in what felt like a truly wild place. I’m sure this river would be a goldmine for cutthroat in the summer, and my buddy claims he saw a chinook carcass too, might make it worth carrying an 8wt just in case. I hope I have the chance to come back here when fish are more plentiful and eager to take a fly or lure!
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