Fish Stories

I'm busy organizing my salmon gear for a big three-day kayak fishing trip at the Oregon coast, so this weeks post will be short and sweet.

My digital camera recently bit the dust. While I wait for the new one, I'm reminded of just how important "photographic evidence" is to anglers.

My buddy Tom, caught this large lingcod while reeling in the small one. Double lings! Man I'm glad I had the camera ready. I don't even know if that's legal!

Humboldt Coast Northern CA 2005

I'll be back with a trip report, and hopefully a cooler full of salmon, next week.

-Jason

Fishing Kayaks and Sea Kayaks

I would like to take a moment to talk about the differences of kayaks, specifically length vs. width, and what that means to the person in the cockpit. People come in the shop all the time who have never kayaked before, completely overwhelmed by the number of boats they see.

The first thing I do is ask a series of questions, such as; "What do you want to do? Class 4-5 whitewater? Two week expeditions on the open ocean? Overnight camping on a flat-water lake? Day touring on flat-water, or simply general purpose float lounging at the end of the dock?"

What I'm really asking here, is; "How much do you want to learn about kayaking?"

Anyone who sits in a kayak should learn fundamental strokes & boat control, and proper safety techniques without question. Learning how to properly drive a kayak not only helps avoid frustration, but adds to the enjoyment of the whole experience.

For instance, most of the time I paddle a sea kayak. This boat is 17ft 8 inches long, and 21.5 inches wide. In general, a long boat with a narrow beam is more efficient in the water. What that means to me is that there is more glide with less work. I can paddle a sporty sea kayak into 25 knot wind, or strong current, and make headway with much less effort than a kayak say, 12ft. long and 30 inches wide.

"Is a narrower kayak less stable than a wide one?" I get asked this allot. The way I look at it, a wider boat generally has more primary stability and less secondary stability, as opposed to a narrow sea kayak that has less primary, and more secondary stability.

So what does that mean? It means you have to learn how to use a sea kayak, as opposed to hopping on a floating barge that an elephant could not flip. Loads of primary stability usually means less efficiency, which means more work to paddle, which equals less enjoyment. Primary stability is how stable the boat feels when your just sitting there, not moving. Secondary stability is how stable the boat feels on edge or in rough water. With just a little practice, primary stability becomes less and less important to how comfortable you feel in the boat.

I love kayak fishing, but I have to say whenever I see kayak fishing in the media, most of these guys are hopping on a power boat with their sit-on-top pigs loaded with electronics, live wells, motors, 50 rods...it's amazing. No wonder they need a ride out to the fishing grounds, they have basically made their kayaks as inefficient as possible. It's ok to love your gear, but is all this stuff really necessary to catch fish?



I cringe when I see this. Why bother with the kayak if you just need a float pad to hook your fish from. I get what they are going for - stability, but you know what? That width they need for stability is caused by the overloading of gear, and raising the center of gravity. KISS: Keep it simple stupid. I've hooked quite a few large (king salmon, halibut) fish from all kinds of kayaks, and all the pull those fish give you gets dissipated through the rod. My boat doesn't get tugged over at all, even when I'm offshore in a sea kayak.

The other reason people chose these incredibly wide and slow kayaks to fish from is that they don't want to learn about kayaking. I teach first time paddlers to kayak every day. 20 minutes into the class everyone wants a sportier boat with less beam and more efficiency. Everyone quickly realizes how easy and fun effectively driving the boat is, and how unnecessary the super wide floating barges called recreation, or flat-water kayaks are.

Don't get me wrong, sit-on-top kayaks are great for fishing. They allow you to place rod holders anywhere, and access gear & tackle with ease. You have to search hard to find the most efficient models, as most are made for flat-water recreation. There are a few sporty fishing kayaks out their from various manufacturers. The Prowler Trident 15 by Ocean Kayak is one of the sleeker angler kayaks on the market. They manage to keep the beam around 28 inches for 15 ft of length, which is a good combination of efficiency and primary stability. One day I hope to see a 16ft, 24 inch wide sit-on-top fishing kayak with high secondary stability and thigh straps as to utilize edge control, punch through surf, and cover long miles with ease.

People also ask if a shorter boat is easier to maneuver vs. a longer boat. Technically this is correct when keeping the boat flat while turning. A basic kayak skill, called edging, makes a longer boat have a much shorter waterline, in essence making an 18ft kayak just as, or more maneuverable than a 12 ft. boat.

Just a little learning and practice can open up a world of opportunities for the kayak angler, and you won't have to pay a charter boat captain to give you a ride to the fishing grounds. You'll get yourself there, which is the whole point of using a kayak!

-Jason

PS- I'm working on a kayak fishing trip on the Columbia near Portland targeting coho salmon, or a return to the Nehalem for chinook within the next week. I'll post a trip report with kayak fishing tips, techniques, and photos ASAP!

TRIP REPORT: San Juan Islands, WA

Wow, what a great week I've had. The day I returned from kayak fishing the Nehalem estuary, I got a call from the shop notifying me of their need for another guide to take a group of six clients on a four-day kayak camping trip in the San Juan Islands.

My gear was still soggy, and my rear end still sore from spending so much time boating the two days prior, but I jumped at the chance to head to the San Juan's.

We drove from Portland, Oregon, to Anacortes, Washington, where we hopped on the ferry to Guemes Island. After a short drive to the North point of Guemes, we met our clients, loaded gear into our kayaks, and paddled NE to Pelican Beach on the North East side of Cypress Island and established base camp.

Cypress is a beautiful island, with a circumference of about 13 nautical miles. The majesty of this place instantly clears the mind and lifts the spirits. For me, spending a few days here is like hitting the reset button on my soul. All of life's problems and annoyances seem so insignificant.
It's easy to see how this can happen, when the view from your tent looks like this:

After establishing base camp, I gathered the group for a hike to the top of the island. The views from atop the 800 ft. cliff were amazing. Looking West we could see Orcas Island & Obstruction Pass, and to the SW, the Olympic Peninsula and mountains, and to the East lie Mt. Baker and the North Cascades.

The next day the sky was overcast, but the water was glassy and the temperatures were in the mid 60's. The group opted for a "shorter" paddle, and we headed out East into the main channel between Cypress & Sinclair Is., caught the current, and whipped around the Cones on down to Pelican Point, where we had lunch before returning to base camp.

On the third day, the group was feeling more adventurous, and we decided to paddle around the North point and down the West side of Cypress to tiny Strawberry Island. Along the way we saw several seals, porpoises, and a few bald eagles. The ample sunshine made viewing marine creatures in the crystal clear water amazing. With visibility around twenty feet, we marveled at purple and orange sea stars, sun stars, urchins, anemones, herring, dungeoness and rock crab, lions mane jelly fish, and a few critters that none of us had ever seen before.

We were thankful for the mild conditions, but something told me that it wouldn't last, so we decided to give a little training to our clients. Just when everyone thought they had it easy, I decided to bail out of my boat and have one of the clients rescue me. Gary paddled over, and did a superb job pulling me back into the boat.

The final day we woke to 15 knot winds opposing a 2.5 knot current. When current and wind oppose each other, steep waves and confused seas are the result. We loaded our boats and launched into 2-3 ft waves. "Nothing this group can't handle.", I thought, but it was definitely more action than any of our clients had seen before. There was a bit of struggle keeping the boats on coarse with the tail wind and mixed wave direction, but after a few tips on surfing kayaks, everyone in the group was catching waves and giggling with joy. Our youngest and most athletic member of the group, Dustin, was really pushing his new found skill to the limit, got hit by a nice 3 foot wave from the left and a good size boat wake on the right as he paddled into a small tide race, and capsized.

As I knew these guys had not experienced much wave action before, I was ready and waiting for a capsize. The other guide on the trip, Shawn, was poised and ready for a capsize also, and being the closest to Dustin, paddled over pulled him back into the boat with no complications.

We landed in 3 foot surf, back where we started on Guemes Island after a spectacular 4 days in the islands, completely exhausted physically, but refreshed mentally. All of our clients raved about what a wonderful trip it was, and I'd have to agree. I started planning my return to the San Juans before I even got out of my boat!

I'll be back on the water, chasing king salmon in the next week or two, so stay tuned for more adventures from Kayak Angler.

-Jason

TRIP REPORT: Nehalem River, NW Oregon Coast

I just returned from an amazing two-day kayak fishing trip on the NW Oregon Coast. We left Portland early Sunday morning with the old 4runner, (or as I like to call it, the man-wagon), fully loaded with camping, fishing, and paddling gear. The weather report called for temps in the upper 50's to the low 40's, winds to 25 knots, and 30% chance of showers. Originally we were planning on surfing long boats at the beach, but the high wind, short period of 7 seconds between waves, and swell height of 8ft made fishing the tidal section of the Nehalem appear a better choice.

Usually I like to fish out of a sit-on-top in the river, but with a strong tide series and strong winds predicted, a more efficient craft, like my green NDK (SKUK) explorer, allows me to cover river miles with less effort. There is an important sacrifice when fishing from the explorer: no rod holders, which means allot of one-handed paddling.



Sculling draws can be utilized effectively with one hand by grabbing the paddle shaft closer to the blade, and resting the remainder of the shaft in the nook where your neck and shoulder meet. From this position you can move the boat laterally. If I want to reposition myself further to the left, I draw on my left. If I want to move to the right, I can utilize a pry on my left side. When trying to hold my angle in an opposing wind, I can use the same strokes and apply them at the bow or the stern, depending on if I'm facing up wind or down wind. Linking strokes from this position is absolutely necessary to hold or adjust your position while your other hand is busy with the rod.


Extending the paddle out, and holding the shaft closer to the high blade works well to control a boat turning in the wind or current. I can effectively plant bow rudders, sweeps, and pries from the extended position. Again this is allot to think about all at once, and can be frustrating until you master these strokes. Rod holders definitely make life easier, but sometimes you have to make due.


The first day on the river was mostly a paddling/scouting day. As it was so early in the fall salmon season, I was not completely sure where the salmon would be in the system. My last report for the Nehalem said salmon were cycling in and out of the bay and ocean. I decided to put in at the uppermost reach of tidewater, and float down to the bay. At some point I would run into the fish. The scenery was beautiful, but the salmon were no where to be found. I started to think about getting my trout gear together as a backup, or possibly forgoing fishing all together in favor of a much longer paddle.

I returned to camp that evening after a great day on the water, built a nice fire, and cooked dinner on the camp stove. After the meal, I decided to walk down to the river to watch the sun set. As I was walking down the trail, I glanced at the shallow run in front of me and saw a wake in the water. My heart started pounding, was it just a branch or rock sticking out of the water making a v-wake in the current? No! it's moving up stream! It was a big chinook moving up river. I sat there on the river bank for 15 minutes and watched 20 or so come through, each one making a large wake in the shallow water. The salmon had arrived, just in time for the river season opener, and not a minute to soon.

I set the alarm for 4:30 AM, and settled into the back of the man wagon all nice and cozy. "Morning will come soon", I thought, and I closed my eyes and dreamt of the next day.

OK so 4:30 came a little to quickly, so I hit the snooze button and enjoyed another 30 minutes of sleep. I awoke to find my friend Eric climbing out of his tent. "What are you doing up at this hour?", I asked him. "Do you want some coffee?", was his reply. I told him he was very thoughtful, but crazy to get out of bed this early when not fishing, just to make me coffee. He then let me know his true intention was not coffee, but bladder relief.

I launched from Roy Creek Park at 5:15 AM to a pre-dawn river. Immediately after paddling away from the launch, I began to hear, and faintly see gigantic chinook salmon flopping all around. I started the day with a nice salmon fly, and fished that to no avail for an hour or so. I quickly realized this was going to be a terminal tackle kind of day, and I switched to a blue and silver spoon.

That next hour, I hooked two salmon, and lost them both after a brief battle of about 5 seconds. I evaluated the problem as dull hook points, switched lures to a fresh out-of-the-box, all silver spoon and got another strike. I realized at that point that the hooks weren't rusty, I was.

I tried not to get to bent out of shape about blowing 3 hook-ups with the wily chinook, and concentrated just enjoying the fact that I was out at the coast, surrounded by beautiful scenery and friends, and that catching a salmon would just be an added bonus to a great trip....but I was still, just a little bit frustrated with my performance.


As the tide changed, the salmon quit flopping, and there is a pause before more fish enter the river at the next tide series. I continued to fish for sea-run cutthroat trout for another hour or so, and managed to catch this decent 15 incher on a silver spoon. It was about 9 AM at that point, and I suspected that my friends at camp would be getting up soon and hopefully have some breakfast ready by the time I got back.

We enjoyed fresh percolator coffee and blueberry muffins before all heading out for a great day of paddling, sunbathing, and general relaxation. Later that day I realized there had been a minor tragedy. At some point, someone, (probably me), did not properly close the pelican case my archaic digital camera was kept in. It got soaked, and died. All in all, it had a good run of about 5 years, and really needed to be upgraded anyway.

I have to say, once again, it can be a serious challenge to catch salmon in the river. Thankfully Mr. Cutthroat came along and kept me from completely getting skunked!

I leave for a four day kayaking trip in the San Juan Islands in Washington this Thursday. The San Juans are another of my favorite kayak/fishing destinations, so check back next week for more pictures, stories, tips and techniques from one of the most beautiful spots in the contiguous United States.

-Jason