Way
back when, sometime when covered wagons were replaced by fishing
boats, there was a television program called, “The Twilight
Zone.” Rod Sterling, the show’s host would walk out onto a
theatre setting stage and say, in his deep and serious
resonating voice “Imagine a journey, beyond space and time...
you are entering the Twilight Zone!”
It’s
August and although many things in life seem like the Twilight
Zone, one of the great fishing scenes in the Pacific Northwest
occurs up at Neah Bay on the very northwest tip of our state
where the vast waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca meet the
Pacific Ocean. It is here for centuries, big, bright coho
salmon, ranging from 5 to 15 pounds and better, stack up like
Interstate 5 traffic in Seattle around 5 p.m., preparing to
migrate down the Strait of Juan de Fuca into Puget Sound and the
streams of their destination. I dig history.
The town of Neah Bay, if for some reason you have not
experienced it, is located just east of Cape Flattery, which,
geographically, is the northwest tip of our state. The town,
isolated from the industrial world, is the hub of the Makah
Nation, one of several treaty Indian tribes located in our
state. At this point in this writing, if you are thinking I
intend to connect the dot between the Twilight Zone and Neah
Bay, you’re on the wrong page.
Neah Bay, as I suggested above, hosts the gathering of coho
salmon in August and September which I consider, a world class
coho salmon fishery on light tackle. When I talk about light
tackle, often, I am talking about fly fishing gear. During the
past 25 years, as this fishery has developed for anglers who
dream about catching a coho salmon on a fly, then Neah Bay is
all-world and all-universe, possibly, the Twilight Zone for
saltwater salmon anglers.
My mentor, Frank Haw, who I consider the greatest saltwater
salmon angler in Washington of all time, taught me that Neah Bay
is very unique for hooking big ocean-run coho salmon on a fly.
Biologically, he argues, the coho salmon are feeding on or near
the surface. While this is not a new revelation to science, the
technique of trolling a coho fly, on the surface, at a fast
speed, is very unique. Try this technique further down the
Washington coast. Nope, does not work. Try this technique east
of Neah Bay, about 20 miles to Sekiu along the Strait of Juan de
Fuca. Nope, does not work. Haw further argues that the behavior
of coho salmon, at this stage of their life, in this graphical
setting, feed on the surface, and it works. I can recall hooking
about 50 coho salmon in a morning after locating large schools
of these tackle busting fish in the Cape Flattery area. This fly
trolling technique is referred to as “bucktailing.”
Here’s the strategy: tie your mainline of #15-20 mono directly
to a small ball-bearing swivel. On the other end of the swivel,
attach the leader which hosts the coho fly. I like sparse flies,
not too thick, in green and white Polar bear hair with streamers
of bright silver integrated into the fly. Now, let out about
40-50 feet of line, put the motor in gear and begin trolling at
around 5 knots. The fishing rod must be vertical, allowing the
fly to skim along the surface. Skimming on the surface is
critically important to this technique. If the fly dips under
the surface, turn up the speed. If it catches “air,” let out
more line, or, slow down a notch. Now, here’s the fun part.
Watching the fly, you’ll see a bulge in the water closing the
distance to the fly. Then, the explosion! Line stripping, cart
wheeling big coho salmon, sprinters, putting on a show. Oh yeah,
baby, welcome to the Twilight Zone. Don’t forget, mid-August
through mid-September, the show will go on, only at Neah Bay.
Speaking of August, there are plenty of choices. Another
favorite fishery of mine beginning in late August is the Willapa
Bay shallow-water chinook fishery. I am talking about 20 to 25
pound big saltwater chinook, hooked in 10 to 20 feet of water in
Willapa Bay through mid-September. These fish return to the bay
as the result of three major salmon hatcheries in Willapa Bay
and remember the assignment of a hatchery-produced salmon: go
get caught. The forecast for this year’s Willapa Bay chinook
salmon return is around 30,000, a healthy number compared to
other western Washington watersheds. My counsel is to stay away
from the big minus tides as the bay can become unfishable with
sea grass unleashed into the water column from the hard tide
exchanges. Time of day means nothing in this fishery if you’re
looking for a bite. Focus on the last few hours of the flood
tide and the beginning of the ebb tide. Late August and early
September... money!
I
like August. I like the feeling of summer and getting the moss
off my back. This is primetime for salmon fishing in the Pacific
Northwest, baby. Color me gone. See you on the saltwater.