British Columbia Fishing Blog

Despite of being disappointed after each trip to the Chilliwack River this winter, we are determined to bring a steelhead to the beach. After all, persistence is the name of this game. As my friend Chris always says, “You are one cast closer to the next fish.” so the only way to succeed is to invest lots of hours and don’t repeat past mistakes. Our trip usually starts with “today is the day!”, followed by “I can’t believe how unlucky we are” at the end of the trip. One has to wonder why anyone would put themselves through these psychological roller coasters for a tug on the line.

Earlier this week, we returned to the same spot where I lost two fish in a row during last week’s outing. We decided to give first light a go, but that simply did not work out. After hunting for these elusive bullets for a few hours, we were pretty tired and obviously came home empty handed. An early start is definitely not my cup of tea for steelhead fishing. Most of my successful outings have been in an afternoon start, when you can relax and scout out where the fish may possibly be. Sometimes late afternoon can be just as productive as early morning. The morning crowd usually disperses by Noon, leaving the river pretty vacant.

On Thursday, Nina and I decided to give it one more go after hearing success stories from our friends. We arrived at the river bank just past Noon. The weather could not have been better for steelhead fishing. It was cloudy and drizzling at times. Water was also not too clear. It silted up slightly as the day went by, providing some cover for unsuspecting fish.

We picked a different spot this time. After walking and fishing through the same runs for three weeks, the repeating scenery was getting rather stale. Instead, we were advised by Chris to try out a few spots where he has had some luck recently. When we arrived at the chosen spot, we were delighted to find only a couple of anglers fishing in the area.

The spot where we started was a potential holding hole for fish, but not so great for landing a fish. The fast water ran tightly along the bank, making it a steep drop-off directly in front of us. The tail end of the spot had another channel feeding into the main run, so there wasn’t any shallow spot where we could simply bring the fish in. But who cares? It’s kind of silly to worry about landing a fish when hooking them has already been a struggle.

I baited up newly tied roe bags on both of our hooks and started drifting through where we thought the fish might be. Within a few casts, my float quickly took a dive! Not only did it disappear, the fish also pulled the rod tip down, yet for some reason I was asleep at the wheel. I did not even lift my arm! The pathetic performance was obviously not rewarded. The brief tension instantly vanished before I even realized what had happened. I was both excited and frustrated, explaining to Nina what she just missed. She didn’t pay much attention, focusing on her float that was wandering pretty far downstream. She drifted it past a log jam a few times before it was finally her turn to battle with a steel.

When she started retrieving her roe bag at the end of one drift, a fish suddenly grabbed it. Totally surprised by the unexpected take, she held onto the rod while the fish bolted downstream with the strong current. Adrenaline was pumping high, we now had to quickly figure out how to bring this fish in. The only option I could see was to cross the feeding channel so we could follow the fish downstream. To do so, we had to walk upstream and away from the bank slightly, but the angle of the line would bring the fish toward the log jam. I guided Nina upstream. She slowly walked backward while attempting to keep the fish under control. I took the first step into the fast flowing channel and anchored myself so I could grab her as she followed. Both of us took several firm and slow steps across the channel.

Once we were on dry bank again, I told her to make her way downstream fast to avoid the log jam. It was too late, I could see the float caught up on a twig sticking out from the jam. I ran down to free it and expected to see a fishless hook dangling by the branch, but I was quite relieved to discover that the fish was still on. Once the line was freed, Nina could start gaining some control. We were not out of the woods yet, because the fish somehow brought her back to the same twig again! I freed the line for the second time and surprisingly the fish remained on the line. “Keep the rod high!”, I shouted. Eventually she was able to clear the entire log jam and brought the fish to a shallow opening.

By this point, Nina’s arms were ready to give up. Who knew steelheading can be quite a workout? She tucked the rod under her left arm and used her entire upper body to guide the fish in. It was a magnificent fish, roughly around 10lb. I could see the adipose fin, meaning it was a wild fish which needed to be released. She slowly brought it into the shallow, but it made a few more darts as soon as its belly felt the submerged gravel. Finally, after several minutes of uncertainty, I had a firm grip of its tail. Nina’s first steelhead of the season was landed!

We took a couple of photographs before removing the hook and releasing it. I opened its mouth slightly and the hook slipped out without any pressure being applied on it. The leader was frayed nicely from its teeth and the log jam. This fish would most likely not have been landed if it took a few more runs.

Both elated and exhausted by her catch, Nina took a break while I returned to where I thought the fish might be. It actually did not take long before my float was swiftly pulled down. For some reason, I once again did not react! There was no doubt it was a bite. The depth of the water was a lot deeper than my float depth. I turned around, waved and explained frantically to Nina what just happened as if I had witnessed a car accident. Usually when a miss occurred, the fish will come back so I drifted through the same spot many more times. During one of these drifts, a fish suddenly surfaced and rolled at the exact same spot where the float went down! This confirmed that it was indeed a fish earlier.

We worked through the run for another half hour without any success. It was time to move. Even though we knew the fish were there, sometimes it is best to keep going and find fish that are more willing to bite. We took a walk downstream, found a few more runs where the fish may hide and did some casts. After two more hours of scouting around, we returned to our original spot with one hour of daylight left, hoping for an evening bite.

I, of course, started out at where I saw a fish rolling earlier. A dozen drifts went by and it didn’t seem to like my roe bag. Seeing my lack of success, Nina decided to try the same spot while I moved a bit further upstream. Perhaps it was the roe bag, the drift, luck, or dare I say it, the angler’s skill, Nina soon connected with her second fish of the day! It happened so fast. I was actually taking a break from the rod and hoping to capture some photographs of her fishing. While adjusting the settings on the camera, I looked up for a moment and saw her rod kicking furiously. She turned around and looked at me in disbelief. I did not need to tell her what to do, since she already brought one in at the same spot!

Perhaps it did not have the strong current or the log jam as its advantage, this fish was more manageable. Nina was able to bring it in without much struggle. I tailed the fish in the shallow, checked for an adipose fin and saw a healed scar but a tiny remnant of the adipose could still be seen.

It was clearly a hatchery-marked fish, but a mis-clipped, meaning the fish’s adipose fin was not completely snipped off during its juvenile stage at the hatchery. Pretty confident that it was not a wild fish, I asked Nina if she would like to keep it. “Sure!”, she said of course, since we did not have much daylight left for fishing anyway. It was the perfect end to a day of steelhead fishing on the Chilliwack River.

I concentrated my effort on fishing through the same spots with the little amount of time left, while Nina patiently waited with a large grin on her face. The river was not about to reward my mistakes on this day. After all, I also had two opportunities to dance with a chromer but failed to grab them. I was both excited for Nina’s catches and also the possibilities in our future trips. When you go on without a single bite for so long, you often start doubting your bait, your spot and yourself. Those doubts are instantly erased when you’re greeted by a tug, then the whole process repeats itself. For newbies, this is an ongoing love and hate relationship with this ridiculous activity that we call steelheading.

As many of you have noticed, I have been rather inactive in the blog for awhile now. After last October’s spectacular coho salmon fishing season, fishing has been put aside, not by choice of course, until now. I originally had planned some sea trout excursion during my visit to Denmark in December, but influenza and pneumonia scratched those. January is typically a very busy month when it comes to the business aspect of the website, therefore spending hours in front of the computer screen becomes my priority. It was only a matter of time before cabin fever sets in, especially with the abundance of good steelhead fishing reports from the Chilliwack River.

I have mentioned it often, I consider myself a rookie when it comes to steelhead fishing. It has been exactly ten years since my first steelhead experience. It was February 19th, my friend Dave and I stood in the cold rain, hoping that he could show me a chrome bullet or two during my first steelhead outing. The day ended with more than what I had requested. Three steelhead sympathized this beginner. The grin was as big as it could get and I thought every steelhead trip would be this rewarding. That expectation was lowered soon after as the number of my steelheading days on the Vedder built up. Most trips resulted in a blank, while occasionally the float dips to remind me why we keep persevering.

The beginning of each season is always a bit rusty. I forget where steelhead would be resting and cast into the wrong waters more often than not. The river is always changing so new runs have to be explored. I stop paying attention to how steelhead should be hunted and focus too much on where others are catching them. After several trips, experiences that were gained in the past slowly regroup and the chance of shaking with that chrome grows bigger. For a casual steelheader such as myself who only fishes once every week or two, results are often inconsistent but once awhile we get lucky.

Since returning from Denmark, I managed to get out a couple of times. Both trips were nothing to brag about. After hearing some positive reports this week, I decided that it was time to go again. Perhaps I was being a bit too eager and leaving common sense at home, I decided it was a good idea to go during a morning after it had rained heavily. Of course, the river was in poor shape upon my arrival so the chase for steel was cut short. After being told that river condition had improved yesterday, Nina and I hopped in the car for an afternoon steelheading session.

We arrived just after Noon and found that quite a few anglers had the same idea as us. While this might be considered a “busy” for steelheading, there were still plenty of free spots to work with. We started working on a couple of riffly tailouts, where Nina had a good take-down after trying for an hour. The entire roe sac was ripped apart, meaning a fish probably received a free meal. Meanwhile, a fellow further upstream from us was surprised to tangle with a small steelhead, which made several splashes on the surface before swimming away freely. These were good signs, I was beginning to have high hopes.

At 1:30pm, we met up with our local friend Chris, who is looking for a wild fish or two so he could capture for the broodstock program. While out enjoying steelheading each day, Chris carries a tube that can hold wild steelhead for the hatchery staff to pick up. He decided to follow us until the 3:00pm pick-up deadline, hoping that we could provide him a fish.

As we walked along the river, Chris showed us where the fish could be holding. While I have been given these tips many times by him in the past, they are still invaluable. It is good to be reminded that we are no longer targeting salmon, the fish are sometimes hiding at where you think they are not. We worked hard through several runs without any success. 3:00pm had gone by so the pressure was off. Chris decided that it was time for his coffee while we kept up our effort until sunset.

Nina and I worked our way toward where we started. The plan was to save the best for last of course. There was one run where I thought would be good if others failed us. We reached it with about 30 minutes until darkness and the run looked beautiful as expected. The riffles upstream from the run feed into a slightly steep ledge, where fish may possibly be sitting. At least those were my guesses.

Wanting to start fresh, I threaded a new roe bag onto the hook and pitched it not too far out from shore. As the float landed, I looked down to adjust the pocket on my jacket. By the time I looked up, my eyes caught the float being buried completely. The tired arms jerked the rod up as much as possible and I could felt a couple of weak kicks immediately. Funny, quite often the first few head shakes make you think that there is a small fish at the end of the line. As if that’s how long it takes the steelhead to wake up, the deceiving shakes are usually followed by a powerful pull. This was no exception, the fish wasted no time to head downstream like a freight train.

The Islander Steelheader spun wildly while I did my best to control the trembling of my hands. It seemed big, even though I had not seen it. Before I knew it, it had taken me 50 feet downstream from where I woke it up. After several minutes, I was finally gaining some control. I started gaining some line, but the fish was still not showing itself. By now, Nina grabbed the camera and I told her, “Take an action shot before I lose it!” Just as I finished the sentence and a photo was snapped, the dreadful slack occurred.

My heart sank of course, but surprisingly I was not too disappointed. The adrenaline rush was already satisfying enough, even though it could have been better with a photo of possibly my largest steelhead so far.

Knowing that time was running out, we quickly returned to the head of the run to see if another fish was waiting for us. The roe bag that tricked the first fish was completely intact, so I started throwing it back to the same area right away. Another dozen or so casts went by and my float suddenly dipped again, right before I started retrieving it. The tension from the current made the fish hooking itself. This time, it was a much smaller fish. At first it appeared to be a trout, but it would have been a pretty big resident trout. This fish was perhaps 5 or 6lb large, so I brought it to shore in no time. It laid on its side in the shallow water, while Nina prepared the camera to finally get a shot of today’s catch. As I walked toward it, the hook suddenly popped out! Sensing that it had been given a second chance, the fish darted into the run even before I screamed out.

While we said farewell to the second fish of the day, two other anglers were working their way downstream toward us. They began drifting through the spot where I hooked my first fish and one of them connected with a fish after only a few casts. Unlike my failed attempt, the angler played it nicely to shore and was rewarded with a hatchery marked steelhead, weighing roughly 10lb.

Our third trip of the season ended without a fish to hands, but at least we are now thinking more like a steelhead. Perhaps there will be more hook-ups during the next trip now that we are more familiar with the runs. Perhaps the landing ratio will improve. Judging by the number of fish and the size of some catches so far this steelhead season, it appears to be shaping up like our last coho salmon season. It is only February, one can always hope. Good luck to those who are giving steelheading a try this weekend.

Today marked the sixth day to the Chilliwack River in the past two weeks, which is probably the most I’ve fished in a long time. It seems like a lot, but when the fishing is this good, one better take advantage of it because it’s only going to last for a few more weeks.

After our trip on Tuesday, we didn’t expect to come again because I thought the river was going to keep rising. The weather forecast took a different turn and suddenly the river has dropped to optimal level once again. Seeing some reports of great catches yesterday, I was confident that we would see some fish today. Originally Nina was going to be behind the camera today so we could put together a float fishing video feature, but she picked up a cold and decided to stay home. Instead, I asked if my dad would like to go one more time before his annual visit to Vancouver ends next week. He of course was glad to tag along. To date, he had yet to land a hatchery marked coho salmon from the Chilliwack River. After numerous attempts since 2004, something always went wrong. The timing was wrong, the bite was off, the fish popped off, or like last Tuesday, it was a wild fish.

Shane, who also has had bad luck on Vedder coho, decided to join us as well. We arrived at the meeting spot just after 6:00am since we had a long walk to the chosen spot. I suggested that we should go back to where my dad and I caught some fish on Tuesday. The run seemed pretty nice on Tuesday when the water was higher, but upon our arrival, I was a bit skeptical. With water level slightly lower, the run seemed to be a bit too fast for my liking. Personally, I really like to fish in slow moving flow where coho salmon can hold. It also makes float watching much more easily. It was too late to change the plan as we were so close to first light, so our only option was to give this run a chance.

Once it was bright enough, we started with floating some pink salmon roe. The first thirty minutes or so was very quiet. I could see some anglers in nearby runs where water was slower landing some coho salmon. My only hope is that as the day went on, perhaps fish would move from slower to faster parts of the river. The bite usually comes on a bit later, so I was not too worried.

After working through the run and figuring out exactly how deep all the spots are, I finally saw a couple of silver backs finning a bit further out from where we had been drifting. Excited, I rebaited and sent the float out to the lane. The first few drifts produced nothing, but there was finally a good take at the end of a drift. I gave it a good strike and the hard kicks on the rod suggested a coho salmon was at the end of the line. My dad quickly came over to see. The fish was guided into the shallow pretty fast. Perhaps almost too fast, because suddenly the hook popped out right in front of us.

That was not exactly a good sign. It was actually the second bad sign of the day. The first one was the big skunk crossing the road in front of me just when I pulled the car out from my driveway at 5:00am.

Seeing a fish being hooked always motivates everyone. It made us focus more on our floats. My dad was the next one to hook up. This fish must have grabbed his bait while he was retrieving it because I didn’t even see a hook-set. It was a massive coho salmon, one of the biggest one that he has ever hooked for sure. The fish did a few acrobatic rolls in front of us. Like the first fish, it also came into the shallow water very fast. Before I had a chance to instruct what he should do to guide the fish in, the hook also suddenly popped out. My dad let out a disappointing moan, the one that all of us have made when we feel that dreadful pop.

With two fish involuntarily released back to the river, we were getting a bit frustrated. My float disappeared once again soon after. This time, a much smaller fish could be felt. It was a coho jack, which came to my hand pretty fast. A hatchery marked fish it was. Dad suggested that we should keep it. I said that maybe today I would encounter four adult coho salmon. He said fat chance, so onto the beach this fish went as a consolation prize.

A few minutes after the kill, I could hear a loud hook-set at the top of the run. It was Shane, who held his drift rod high to keep the line tight. Splashes could be seen right in front of him, which indicated that it was another coho salmon. Both my dad and I quickly went upstream to lend him a hand. It turned out to be a wild coho salmon so it swam away freely after a photo or two.

After several bites in a row, it became quiet again. Shane started to wander off as he dislikes fishing at the same spot all the time. My dad and I remained at the same run, hoping for more fish to move in. Eventually I went up to the top of the run where Shane hooked his first fish. After a couple of drift, the float shot underneath the surface. It went down so fast, so it was unlikely a snag. I set the hook and my entire float rig flew back to me because it was already so close to the bank. I quickly put some new bait on, cast it out to the same drift. Once again, the float was pulled down. This time, I could feel something after the hook-set but it quickly fell off. I rebaited once again, cast it slightly further out. When the float reached the same area, it disappeared again. This time, instead of setting the hook fast, I decided to wait for another second and softly pulled the rod back. There was fair amount of motionless resistance at first, followed by a few head shakes. A fish it was! A few seconds later, a silver body broke out on the surface. Like the other fish, it also darted toward the shallows right away. I rewinded as fast as I could to gain line control. Within a minute, I turned the fish to its side and could see the absence of the adipose fin. While I happily pushed the fish up the bank by its tail, my dad had come up. Both of us were pretty excited and relieved after going home with an empty cooler in the last several trips.

With one adult and one jack coho on the beach, I now had more confidence. The first skein of fresh roe had been used up. I decided to take out some older roe. Well, old is bit of an understatement. This skein of roe has been aging in the fridge since two weeks ago during our first trip to the Vedder. It was cured so nicely so I didn’t want to refreeze it. The result was much harder piece of egg colony, decorated with molds in different colours. Last year, we caught some beautiful coho in the Lower Fraser River with roe in similar conditions, so I didn’t see why this wouldn’t work. What better way to test than by putting it on the hook of an unsuspecting angler? I looped a big piece onto my dad’s hook.

By this point Shane had returned to our run after seeing my bigger catch from further down. Both of us worked the top of the run while my dad worked the tailout where he lost his first fish. While we were chatting away, my dad called out loudly. I turned around and could see him fighting a good fish. Both of us dropped our rods and went down to assist. I reminded him to guide the fish into the little shallow bay further downstream. Nervously, he walked down with a coho buck that seemingly had given up. I cautioned him that it would probably make another dash when its abdomen touched the shallow bottom. Luckily, it didn’t. Instead, it rolled in the shallow water a few times. I reached down and grabbed onto the tail firmly before checking for the adipose fin. It was absent so I quickly scooped it up onto the beach. His first hatchery coho salmon was now landed. My dad cheered as he had just won the lottery. It was a male coho salmon, roughly around 6lb like the one I had killed.

Recounting what happened, my dad said that fish had already took the float down once prior to being hooked. He recast the remaining bait to the same spot and the float went down again, which surprised him. When I opened up this fish’s stomach, dozens of cured eggs spewed out of it. I guess it was hungry.

After some deserving rest, I put some more of that moldy roe onto his hook again and we returned to fish the head of the run while he worked his hot spot at the tailout. Amazingly, our conversation was once again interrupted by commotion further downstream. I turned around and could not believe what I was seeing. My dad’s rod was bent to its fullest while another silver coho leaped completely out of the water further downstream from him. This time, the fish had taken him downstream into the faster water like what happened on Tuesday. I told him to point his rod upstream and sideway instead of straight up, because the fish would magically follow back upstream to him. Unlike Tuesday, when he had quite a bit of difficulty, this fish cooperated and was back up to where he was in no time. Once the fish was under control, we started working on landing the fish in the shallow bay. Like a replay of the previous fish, it didn’t show much of a struggle and turned to its side once my dad pulled it into the shallow water. I reached down and was delighted to see another fish without an adipose fin. “Is it a wild? Is it a wild?”, he asked anxiously. I held it up and walked up the bank to him, which answered his question.

With three adult and one jack coho salmon on the beach, this was now turning into one of the more memorable trips. All good thing comes to an end of course, the bite died off at around 10:30am. Before that happened, I managed to bring in another hatchery marked coho jack.

We worked our roe through the run until 11:30am without much success. Shane gave his spoon a try in the last 30 minutes or so and managed to find one more wild coho salmon. His hatchery coho salmon remained illusive.

In total, we were able to produce nine hook-ups, which wasn’t too bad for a morning session. I’m not sure if these fish were simply moving through, or actually holding at one spot. My guess is that they were just moving through because the bites were not too consistent. From our conversations with other anglers later on, it sounds like other parts of the river were producing better as some were going home with their limits of fish. That’s ok, we were more than satisfied with our results.

Until this day, the pursuit of coho salmon by float fishing on the Chilliwack River has been a frustrating one for my dad. At the age of 75, his mobility is no longer good so every trip is limited to a couple of spots, which means some luck is needed when finding these sneaky silvers. A day like today completes this pursuit and wraps up his 2011’s visit to Vancouver nicely.

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.

After bringing three fish to our hands, the bite suddenly tapered off. A few more people showed up but it was no where as busy as Monday. Everyone spaced out comfortably so crowding was not an issue. I switched back to my float rod, hoping that roe will produce more fish. About two hours after we started, there were once again signs of life. That float began to dive again. For some reason, 8:00am or 9:00am seems to be when the bites usually come on. Perhaps that is when fish start moving into and holding in new runs from shallower waters. After a few misses, I finally connected with another fish. This fish didn’t come up to the surface right away, but the head shake suggested that it was another coho salmon. It leaped and ran a couple of times before being guided in easily. It was another male coho salmon without an adipose fin, weighing in at 7lb.

With three fish taken, this was turning into a rather satisfying day. I could stop without complaints, but the morning was young. I kept focusing on the float, which I now had a lot of confidence on. There were biting fish in front of us and it didn’t take long before the orange top disappeared again. I briefly hooked one after a few more casts, followed by another 6lb male hatchery coho salmon brought to shore.

By this point, Nina was slightly frustrated by the lack of dives of her float. I told her that she needed to drift a little further, because I was spotting some fish finning slightly further away from where she was casting. Sometimes if your drift isn’t in their travelling lane, your bait would be untouched. With three hatchery coho salmon under my belt while seeing no action among a couple dozen anglers around me, I must say that I was pretty excited.

Chris showed up to see all the excitement after I phoned in my result. Just as he was arriving, I lost another under the float. For some strange reason, many of my fish this season have been lost just a second or two after they were hooked. I told him what had just happened and be prepared for another one. Sure enough, the float took another dive while we were chatting and this time tension remained at the end of the line. I fought the fish while Chris stood by with his video camera rolling, adding to his home video collection. When the fish reached the shallow water, it made a couple more runs and Chris’ legs almost got in the way. While guiding the fish in, I could see the presence of an adipose fin so I told Nina to hold my rod while I brought the fish in by hand lining. When it tried to make another run, it snapped the leader but ended up almost beaching itself. I quickly grabbed its tail with one hand and cradled its stomach with the other so I could hold it up to show Chris before the release. It was another coho salmon in the 6 to 8lb range.

With a snapped leader, I became a bit lazy and decided to clean up our catches and possibly end the morning outing. Nina continued looking for more coho salmon, but her float simply did not want to swim today. Meanwhile, Chris could not resist after seeing all the catches so he made a few drifts with my rod, but he was just as lucky as Nina.

After all the fish were gutted, I decided to try something a bit different. I tied a spinner with a #3 nickel French blade to my leader. In the past, my lure fishing has always been done without a float. I’ve heard from many who always have successes by fishing with a spinner under the float, so I was hoping to do the same. I cast the float out, held it back so the current would make the spinner spin as the float swung downstream, before slowly retrieving it. Luck was obviously on my side today, because another coho salmon rose to the top and swallowed the spinner while I watched the blade spinning behind the float. I enjoyed every moment of fighting this fish while others looked on with disbelief. After several minutes, another bright hatchery coho salmon was on the beach. This one weighed in at 7lb and completed my quota of the day.

We finished the morning at 11:30am. The best part of the outing was seeing the face of guys when they constantly brought foul-hooked fish downstream to us and saw our coho salmon on the beach. One would think that it is not difficult to put two and two together. Perhaps a change in technique is needed if every single fish at the end of your line is foul hooked. What I noticed was that people tend to look at our fish, but hardly anyone would even look at what we were using. There’s too much focus on the catching instead of on the fishing for some. The worst part of the outing was probably carrying our gear and over 30lb of fish back to the car. I must say that I’m glad to be a meat fisher once awhile. Mornings like this will keep me waking up at 3:00am in many more October days.

We had a good day, or bad day, depending on who you ask.

This morning we decided to do our first Vedder coho trip of 2011. It of course started with a rather sleepless night filled with excitement. The alarm went off at 4:00am and we were on the road by 4:45am. Because the water is so low and hearing success from our friends recently, we decided to bite the bullet and fish one of the more popular spots in the lower section. We arrived by the river at 6:30am with not many people in sight, which was wonderful. The rain may have something to do with it. For the first 30 minutes or so, we were almost alone so the water was not spooked, which is ideal for coho salmon.

Nina started out with the spoon casting outfit as it’s pretty common for undisturbed coho salmon to chase down a piece of moving metal. Sure enough, she was into one fish after a few casts, but it quickly wiggled itself off like what a coho salmon would do.

Once there was enough light to see the float, I sent a piece of freshly cured pink salmon roe out. The water where we were fishing was perhaps 4 or 5ft deep, so I had the float depth adjusted to about 3ft, which should avoid all the aging pink salmon and submerged twigs. The float actually did not dive in the first 15 minutes or so, which was not necessarily strange. During most of our morning outings in the past, fish don’t usually come on the bite at first light, but a period of time after. Is it possible that fish are simply moving from the shallower part of the water where they rest at night into the deeper part as day breaks?

Just when I was about to question how effective my roe was, the float finally took a dive. The first couple were missed as always by my sleepy eyes and arms, then there was a solid hook-up. The fish leaped several times further downstream so I couldn’t see what exactly it was until I brought it closer. It was a rather bright chum salmon, which I released.

Once I rebaited my hook and started fishing again, there was a series of poor hook-sets. At one point, the float dove in three consecutive drifts, but each hook-set only sent the float combo flying back in the air with an empty hook. Sensing that the bite was on, I told Nina to switch to her float setup right away.

While I kept concentrating on fishing further out in the middle, Nina drifted her roe closer to where we were standing as she couldn’t cast further out. That turned out to be a good problem because she had a take-down after a few casts. The hook-set was spot on. After holding out breaths for a couple of minutes, she beached her first hatchery-marked coho salmon of the day. Actually, it was her first coho salmon ever from the Chilliwack River.

Knowing that there was a school of active fish right in front of us, we quickly rebaited and sent our floats back into the water. Just when we were expecting to have one of the better days on the flow, more bodies started showing up and lined up just above us. Don’t get me wrong, I in fact enjoy having company fishing around us as some of you have noticed that during the Tidal Fraser River pink salmon season. What really determines how the fishing day turns out is the type of crowd you are fishing with. As expected, long leaders and constant thrashing of the rig in the water turned the bite completely off unfortunately. It was like a switch between night and day. I told Nina that they didn’t stop biting for no reasons.

After a long period of inactivity, there finally was a sign of life. Nina hooked into another good fish. The constant silver flashes in the water and surface splashing suggested another coho salmon, which was similar in size to the first one she landed. She played it nicely into the shallow but the hook popped out right before it was to be tailed.

We then experienced a few good take-downs. At one point, Nina’s float dipped quickly but not fully so she failed to set the hook. I made the following cast to do the same drift and said, “I haven’t had a bite for long time.” Just as I finished the sentence, the float disappeared completely. Of course, the lack of focus sent the empty hook flying back into my face once again! Slightly frustrated, I decided to switch to the spoon setup. Within a few casts, I had a solid hit and hooked into a lively fish, which also unconnected itself in less than a minute!

As the morning progressed, more people appeared behind us and were not afraid to take over the little space there was. I consider myself very easy going when it comes to being surrounded by anglers and try not to judge how anyone fishes, but certain common courtesy should be expected, such as vocally expressing your interest in fishing near me. One individual, who did not have waders, did just that and I was glad to have him fishing not too far downstream from me. We timed our drifts to avoid tangles and it worked out just fine. Another late arriver dressed head to toe in Focus Fishing gear, did the complete opposite. While I walked ten feet away from my spot to take out more roe from the bag, he proceeded to act as my replacement. I kindly informed him that I am still interested in fishing next to my wife. He didn’t seem to understand so I repeated myself one more time until he moved. The same individual also didn’t quite understand that if my rod tip can touch your nose, you maybe causing inconvenience. Finally, his shifty feet performed some cat-like moves. Everytime I moved slightly upstream to help Nina, he moved onto where I was standing. Apparently I was standing on the sweet spot. In the end, as more people showed up, we decided to move much further downstream to the tailout of the run and he of course helped himself to our spot before we even made our way down. This wasn’t a big deal of course, one should choose to take it with humour. As I’ve pointed out in the past, if you choose to stand by a toilet, don’t complain about the smell and flies.

While fishing the shallow tailout, I spotted some coho salmon moving into the run. I decided to shorten up the float depth and focused more on where they were rolling. As expected, the float took another dive and this time my hook-set was pretty precise. The way this fish fought suggested that it was definitely a coho salmon. The silver body, roughly around the same size as Nina’s fish, made its way to me pretty fast. I carefully guided it into the shallow water, but it took one more dash into the deep and I felt the dreadful pop once again!

The rain became heavy at 10:30am, but this did not stop more people from showing up. We finally felt a little uncomfortable and decided to leave the spot. Before we packed it up for the day, I suggested that we should check out another spot where no one was fishing. The high bank made it difficult, but the slot seemed to be untouched and looked very fishy. It didn’t take many drifts of a big piece of roe to confirm my curiosity. The float was taken down hard and a rather heavy fish shook its head repeatedly without surfacing. It was not a coho salmon, but a small chinook salmon. I walked the fish downstream until we found a suitable spot to land it. Nina climbed down and grabbed onto its tail perfectly. The fish was around 8 to 10lb. We decided to release her as one fresh fish in our cooler was already enough for tonight’s fine dinner.

Overall, I’d say it was a pretty good outing, excluding a few episodes. The hooking wasn’t too bad, now we just need to improve on the landing. While the spot maybe productive, the atmosphere indeed plays a big role on the quality of our trip, so I’ll have to rethink whether we will put ourselves in that situation again anytime soon. As others have pointed out, it is a long river and quiet spots are not uncommon. Once the river rises, fish should spread out quickly and better fishing experience will come shortly.

The change in water level indicated in today’s hydrograph wasn’t noticeable to us while we were fishing, but we noticed a slight change in water clarity as the day went on. Visibility remains pretty good by the time we left but it definitely was not as clear as when we first arrived this morning.