Seals, Tidal Rips, and Autumn Salmon Fishing

When my alarm went off in darkness this morning, I questioned last night’s impromptu decision to go fishing today. I had already had too many short nights this week. The bad news is that my long-awaited Saturday plans had gotten scrubbed because of Covid (somebody else’s). The good news is that I have a boat, and today was the last day of salmon fishing season in my area of Puget Sound. Because of the sudden change in plans, my always-ready, last-minute fishing buddy Todd got the call last night.

There was no doubt that autumn is upon us; it was 45 degrees when I pulled the boat out of the barn. I was glad for my decision last fall to buy a heavy duty boating parka. I also didn’t regret the balaclava I took to cover my face at cruising speed. The Naval Station was blaring the Star-Spangled Banner to the entire city of Everett as we launched the boat into glassy smooth water, indicating that it was 8:00. We immediately noticed that dozens of harbor seals were lying on the dock. Todd had never seen so many before. The tide was going out, so we decided to fish the west (far) side of Possession Bar. I let Todd drive on the way out. We waved hello to the ever-present sea lions lying on the Possession Point buoy as we headed to our fishing grounds. This time, cormorants were perched on top.

It was mostly overcast, but when we finally arrived at the far end of the bar we could see that the whole channel between us and Kitsap County was bathed in sun but very rough. There was a sharp-edged cloud line above us that neatly divided the gray world from the blue. Right under it was a very interesting tidal rip. This is a place where the outgoing tide meets the incoming tide, with surprisingly different sea states on either side. The cloudy east side was calm, and the sunny west side was quite rough. We ventured carefully across the rip to the rough side, and quickly found it to be a little scary. It was exactly where I had planned to troll the contours of the bar for coho. So, I spun the boat around and came up with a new plan. We headed to the “Horseshoe”, an underwater valley in the middle of the bar some distance away.

Todd had never been downrigger fishing before, so it was all new and exciting for him. He was eager to learn. The first bite of the day was a “shaker”, a small salmon that you don’t notice on your line, which you don’t want to keep but which prevents your lure from catching other fish. Before long though, one of the rods abruptly straightened as a fish grabbed it loose from the downrigger clip. Todd grabbed the rod and started reeling it in. It was heavy but not too feisty as first, but as it neared the surface Todd was in for a wild ride. The big fish swam his line from one side of the boat to the other, and then back again as I waited to net him. My first attempt to net the beast failed, but at least I didn’t bump it off the hook. Finally I managed to get the net under him and brought it aboard. It was a big beautiful salmon about two feet long, quite a prize. We had the bonker in hand when I suddenly noticed its dark-colored mouth and large spots on the tail. “Wait”, I said, “let’s make sure this is really a coho.” Todd got out the identification card, and I insisted that we put it back in the water in the net while we decided his fate. We finally realized that it was actually a chinook, which we were not allowed to keep in this part of the season. We lowered the net and let it swim away. My insistence on the survival of the fish prevented us from getting a trophy photo. Todd had been trying to catch a salmon from shore all summer without success, so to reel in a big chinook was exhilarating even if he couldn’t take it home. The day was already worthwhile.

We had spent about five hours on the water before the sun finally arrived and warmed us up to 60 degrees. It was a great day for wildlife. There were seals absolutely everywhere, we saw many interesting birds, and Eagle Eye Todd even spotted a small school of harbor porpoises, The fact that we had a steady stream of shakers told us that we were doing everything right, but were just having a little bad luck with all the small ones. We were wise to pull up our gear to check for them often. I had also managed to reel in and release a chinook of my own at the “Horseshoe”, though it was a bit smaller than Todd’s. After slack tide, we moved to the east side of the bar and started trolling there. As we passed Possession Point I suddenly realized that we had trolled our way into a different marine area, which is currently closed to salmon fishing. We decided to call it a day rather than move and reset again. The fishing rules in this state are extremely complex and ever-changing, but you simply have to stay on top of them. You have to understand the boundaries of each marine area, the rules for each on the day you fish, how to decisively identify each fish, and watch your email for emergency rule changes.

Even though we were coming home with an empty kill bag, I was in a good mood. We had proven that even in my little boat with little toy downriggers, we could catch challenging fish. It was a great adventure and a great experience. At the fuel dock I chatted a bit with a Fish and Wildlife Enforcement officer, as her partner fueled their very powerful and impressive boat with blue lights on top. I jokingly asked if she caught anything today, and she said they only seize other people’s illegal catches. It was a reminder that enforcement is real and penalties are severe. It has always struck me as odd that in the boating world, mandatory training is almost nonexistent but enforcement is everywhere. This is the polar opposite of the aviation world.

I’m not sure when I’ll fish again. Winter crabbing opens tomorrow, but I’m not sure I’ll have a chance to do that or not before the weather becomes intolerable. It’s been a good season – I’ve really taken my skills to the next level, and had a great time doing it.