And the theme of the day continued when I picked this up at the Post Office.
Showing posts with label hatchery steelhead. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hatchery steelhead. Show all posts
Monday, August 8, 2011
Some Days
Some days are really special. Started this morning with some excellent fishing. Thanks Doug.
And the theme of the day continued when I picked this up at the Post Office.
And the theme of the day continued when I picked this up at the Post Office.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Closure Thoughts
Great commentary over at the Osprey Blog regarding the Puget Sound River Closures
Osprey Steelhead News
This line got me thinking.
"All this is a painful reminder that without healthy wild runs there is no possibility of even catch and release angling opportunity."
Clearly we are starting to see the culmination of long term mismanagement of our fish stocks. Promises of salmon (steelhead) without rivers and technological fixes to our fisheries has brought us to the precipice where we now stand. Without healthy wild runs we have nothing. We have empty rivers. We have ecosystems starving for marine nutrients brought upstream by salmon runs for thousands of years. We have reduced fishing seasons that likely will only be getting smaller.
Hatchery fish cannot fill the gap that losing our wild fish creates. Looking at Puget Sound, as goes wild fish so go hatchery fish. Marine survival affects both types of fish, so we are now facing almost zero returning hatchery fish and closed rivers when the few wild fish return. Today's Puget Sound reality is a crystal ball showing us the future of our remaining fisheries.
Change comes slowly in fisheries management. Too slowly for the remaining stocks of fish in Washington State and throughout the Northwest. We are seeing rivers without dams and great habitat missing escapement goals due to continued overharvest and negative hatchery practices (which go together like peanut butter and jelly). While Puget Sound wild steelhead fisheries are now closed, we have rivers like the Hoh, Queets, and Quillayute that have no dams, large areas of pristine habitat, and good marine survival missing escapement goals. How much longer can we keep stretching the rubber band managing these supposedly "healthy" stocks of fish before it snaps like Puget Sound?
My last post was a humorous dig at the crowds likely heading towards the coast with the recent Puget Sound closures. Humor hides sadness and I am sad to see closures. Not only due to increased numbers of fishermen on rivers close to home, but also because these closures seem to end a portion of the rich history that is winter steelhead fly fishing on Puget Sound rivers. The history of winter steelhead fly fishing would be far poorer without the storied history of fly fishing on rivers like the Skagit and Skykomish. These fisheries form a link between today's fishermen and past generations who pioneered fly fishing for winter steelhead. While the tackle, clothing, and spots on the river have changed when you stand in a river with the water pushing against your legs, fly under tension swinging across a broad run, and feel the grab of a wild steelhead you are experiencing something that spans generations. We all need that connection.
Osprey Steelhead News
This line got me thinking.
"All this is a painful reminder that without healthy wild runs there is no possibility of even catch and release angling opportunity."
Clearly we are starting to see the culmination of long term mismanagement of our fish stocks. Promises of salmon (steelhead) without rivers and technological fixes to our fisheries has brought us to the precipice where we now stand. Without healthy wild runs we have nothing. We have empty rivers. We have ecosystems starving for marine nutrients brought upstream by salmon runs for thousands of years. We have reduced fishing seasons that likely will only be getting smaller.
Hatchery fish cannot fill the gap that losing our wild fish creates. Looking at Puget Sound, as goes wild fish so go hatchery fish. Marine survival affects both types of fish, so we are now facing almost zero returning hatchery fish and closed rivers when the few wild fish return. Today's Puget Sound reality is a crystal ball showing us the future of our remaining fisheries.
Change comes slowly in fisheries management. Too slowly for the remaining stocks of fish in Washington State and throughout the Northwest. We are seeing rivers without dams and great habitat missing escapement goals due to continued overharvest and negative hatchery practices (which go together like peanut butter and jelly). While Puget Sound wild steelhead fisheries are now closed, we have rivers like the Hoh, Queets, and Quillayute that have no dams, large areas of pristine habitat, and good marine survival missing escapement goals. How much longer can we keep stretching the rubber band managing these supposedly "healthy" stocks of fish before it snaps like Puget Sound?
My last post was a humorous dig at the crowds likely heading towards the coast with the recent Puget Sound closures. Humor hides sadness and I am sad to see closures. Not only due to increased numbers of fishermen on rivers close to home, but also because these closures seem to end a portion of the rich history that is winter steelhead fly fishing on Puget Sound rivers. The history of winter steelhead fly fishing would be far poorer without the storied history of fly fishing on rivers like the Skagit and Skykomish. These fisheries form a link between today's fishermen and past generations who pioneered fly fishing for winter steelhead. While the tackle, clothing, and spots on the river have changed when you stand in a river with the water pushing against your legs, fly under tension swinging across a broad run, and feel the grab of a wild steelhead you are experiencing something that spans generations. We all need that connection.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Can There Be Just One
Lately, I've been talking a lot about hatcheries on this blog. I just finished writing a note to WDFW about the five year fishing moratorium on the Elwha River (Elwha Fishing Moratorium) and I couldn't get a thought out of my head.
Do we have one major river system in Western Washington without hatcheries? I go through a mental list of the major steelhead and salmon rivers and cannot think of any. Is our hatchery addiction so bad we have to plant 60,000 chambers creek fish during dam removal on the Elwha during a five year fishing moratorium?
While the state has stopped planting on lots of small tributaries with no collection facilities, nothing has been done for the larger, more productive systems.
I guess some movement is better than none, but the slow pace in the face of extinction and closures is beyond frustrating.
I think it's time to try to get out and do some more fishing.
Do we have one major river system in Western Washington without hatcheries? I go through a mental list of the major steelhead and salmon rivers and cannot think of any. Is our hatchery addiction so bad we have to plant 60,000 chambers creek fish during dam removal on the Elwha during a five year fishing moratorium?
While the state has stopped planting on lots of small tributaries with no collection facilities, nothing has been done for the larger, more productive systems.
I guess some movement is better than none, but the slow pace in the face of extinction and closures is beyond frustrating.
I think it's time to try to get out and do some more fishing.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
It Begins
It's that time of year, where chrome bright winter steelhead start moving up the rivers. The first part of the run is now mostly hatchery fish, but there are still a few resilient early natives mixed in. Yesterday I met one.
It was a classic NW Winter day. Low cloud cover, mid-40's temperature, and drizzle where the green of the forests is almost washed away by the oppressive gray pushing down from the sky. The river was dirty with about one to two feet of visibility, adding another surface of gray to the pallet. I worked my way downstream floating and fishing. I arrive at the run I wanted to focus on and start fishing. The fly is swinging well and about twenty casts into the run I feel a grab, and then nothing. The grab always feels like lightning going through your veins, but the lack of connection is always disappointing. This time of year, the question with a large grab is "what was that?" Was it a king, coho, or steelhead? A question I will never know.
I continued to work down the run as the current mellowed the fly started ticking the bottom and hanging up occasionally. The answer was a lighter tip, so I looped on five feet of T-14 and continued to fish. Then a swing was interrupted once a again by a pull. My mind quickly shifts back to fishing from gazing at the bald eagle squawking on the tall river side tree. I feel a second pull, then feel line start coming off my reel, and then come tight to a fish. Instantly the fish is running. I look towards the line streaming downstream and see white, the color of backing. Then a jump, and all I can see is a distant flash of silver in the air. I start moving down the gravel bar gaining back some of the line. This fish is strong and feels heavier than the fish I saw jump. I wonder if I have foul hooked a salmon because of the heavy feel. But I can gain line easily when the fish stops so that thought passes. Another couple fast runs and one of my favorite types of jumps happens. The fish jumps ten feet to the side of where your line enters the river. I work the fish quickly towards the beach. As I get it in the shallows I see that it is a steelhead with a big fat adipose fin and any thoughts of being foul hooked are gone when I see the fly lodged in the fish's mouth. I quickly grab the leader and tail this magnificent twelve pound hen as the hook falls out. I take a quick look at the perfectly clean fins and release my grip. She quickly charges off back into the gray water. After the release I am struck by this fish. The power and speed combined to make this one of the hottest fish I have ever hooked, including fish on rivers notorious for their hot steelhead.
I fished for a few more hours with the only other grab was a small bull trout, but I am struck by what a rare experience I had today. Early run native winter steelhead were historically much more abundant than they currently are. Decades of hatchery plants along with non-selective harvest have made this segment of the steelhead population a rarity. The fact that native fish continue to hold on in the face of everything we can throw at them amazes me. Sometime we fishermen get to see and hold a trace of the past, but far too often we are only left with the stories from old timers of what it used to be like. At least for today those are not just stories.
It was a classic NW Winter day. Low cloud cover, mid-40's temperature, and drizzle where the green of the forests is almost washed away by the oppressive gray pushing down from the sky. The river was dirty with about one to two feet of visibility, adding another surface of gray to the pallet. I worked my way downstream floating and fishing. I arrive at the run I wanted to focus on and start fishing. The fly is swinging well and about twenty casts into the run I feel a grab, and then nothing. The grab always feels like lightning going through your veins, but the lack of connection is always disappointing. This time of year, the question with a large grab is "what was that?" Was it a king, coho, or steelhead? A question I will never know.
I continued to work down the run as the current mellowed the fly started ticking the bottom and hanging up occasionally. The answer was a lighter tip, so I looped on five feet of T-14 and continued to fish. Then a swing was interrupted once a again by a pull. My mind quickly shifts back to fishing from gazing at the bald eagle squawking on the tall river side tree. I feel a second pull, then feel line start coming off my reel, and then come tight to a fish. Instantly the fish is running. I look towards the line streaming downstream and see white, the color of backing. Then a jump, and all I can see is a distant flash of silver in the air. I start moving down the gravel bar gaining back some of the line. This fish is strong and feels heavier than the fish I saw jump. I wonder if I have foul hooked a salmon because of the heavy feel. But I can gain line easily when the fish stops so that thought passes. Another couple fast runs and one of my favorite types of jumps happens. The fish jumps ten feet to the side of where your line enters the river. I work the fish quickly towards the beach. As I get it in the shallows I see that it is a steelhead with a big fat adipose fin and any thoughts of being foul hooked are gone when I see the fly lodged in the fish's mouth. I quickly grab the leader and tail this magnificent twelve pound hen as the hook falls out. I take a quick look at the perfectly clean fins and release my grip. She quickly charges off back into the gray water. After the release I am struck by this fish. The power and speed combined to make this one of the hottest fish I have ever hooked, including fish on rivers notorious for their hot steelhead.
I fished for a few more hours with the only other grab was a small bull trout, but I am struck by what a rare experience I had today. Early run native winter steelhead were historically much more abundant than they currently are. Decades of hatchery plants along with non-selective harvest have made this segment of the steelhead population a rarity. The fact that native fish continue to hold on in the face of everything we can throw at them amazes me. Sometime we fishermen get to see and hold a trace of the past, but far too often we are only left with the stories from old timers of what it used to be like. At least for today those are not just stories.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The Last Days
This summer seems to be winding down. It's been a great summer to return to the Pacific Northwest after a long absence. Coming from the brown desert to the lush green of the Olympic Peninsula has been fantastic. Getting back to coastal fishing has been a blast. It seems like I've fished far less but every trip has been savored. I almost forgot about the diversity available here. From ocean salmon fishing, rainforest steelhead, sea-run cutthroat and resident rainbows it has been a summer to remember. It's been great to run into a few native fish, especially the native summer runs. I missed that connection to the past while chasing browns in the Rockies. I know soon the rivers will be filled with runoff, salmon and then the beginning of the winter steelhead run.
Not only has this summer been good to me in the fishing department, but growing a garden has only added to the connection I feel to this place. We've been enjoying fresh food for a couple months now, but one can also sense the change of seasons in the garden, although it feels like a quicker end. We'll soon be planting overwintering crops and flower bulbs awaiting the first warmth of spring to give us a colorful reminder of another summer to come.
A couple days coming up to fish and the question is one that confuses all fall fishermen in the northwest. What the hell do I fish for? I think it may be an all of the above trip.
Not only has this summer been good to me in the fishing department, but growing a garden has only added to the connection I feel to this place. We've been enjoying fresh food for a couple months now, but one can also sense the change of seasons in the garden, although it feels like a quicker end. We'll soon be planting overwintering crops and flower bulbs awaiting the first warmth of spring to give us a colorful reminder of another summer to come.
A couple days coming up to fish and the question is one that confuses all fall fishermen in the northwest. What the hell do I fish for? I think it may be an all of the above trip.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Revenge
A sad state seems to be coursing through internet fishing bulletin boards, both fly and gear. With potential closures of not only wild steelhead fisheries, but reduced hatchery plants it seems like everyone is having a hard time with the new page of fishing in Washington State.
One can only imagine the hope and promise that was felt over 100 years ago when hatcheries were first coming on line. What an idea, that we can actually have it all. We can over harvest, from the river mouths to distant saltwater feeding grounds. We can dam up rivers, blocking access to spawning grounds and destroying important cultural meccas such as Celio and Kettle Falls. We can log our ancient forests, withdraw water from our rivers, and let cows trample and shit in riparian zones with no repercussions. We can pave wetlands and replace a renewable food source with "food" from the local Wal Mart.
Take, take, take, take, take...... until there is nothing left to take. We are at the destination of the "hatchery industrial" complex we were so smitten by. The last bits of the foundation are crumbling. The hatchery fish are having the same problems as the wild fish. Their numbers decline, so much so in Puget Sound that rivers are closed to angling to make sure hatcheries get enough broodstock back. And at the same time that hatcheries cannot make escapement, the state continues to allow harvest on wild stocks hovering at low levels barely making their escapement goals. The take continues with the fishermen looking for numbers in an age of low numbers. "Look at me," seems to be the name of the game.
The raceways, cities, and suburbs have no soul. You can find it walking through ancient forests, watching shooting stars trace a path through dark skies, and releasing a native steelhead back into the green waters. Through a fish, you can feel a connection with all that has been lost. You have briefly touched a part of the past, a past of natural bounty.
Now, dams are being removed. Serious thought is given to segregating hatchery fish from wild fish. Weirs are being installed to block hatchery fish from accessing spawning tribs. Slowly but surely the wild fish are having their revenge. The main point is that no matter the technology, hatchery fish require the same things that wild fish do.... healthy rivers and oceans.
All we are left with is scraps, hopefully enough crumbs have been dropped so that we may follow them backwards and save something worthwhile of the past.
One can only imagine the hope and promise that was felt over 100 years ago when hatcheries were first coming on line. What an idea, that we can actually have it all. We can over harvest, from the river mouths to distant saltwater feeding grounds. We can dam up rivers, blocking access to spawning grounds and destroying important cultural meccas such as Celio and Kettle Falls. We can log our ancient forests, withdraw water from our rivers, and let cows trample and shit in riparian zones with no repercussions. We can pave wetlands and replace a renewable food source with "food" from the local Wal Mart.
Take, take, take, take, take...... until there is nothing left to take. We are at the destination of the "hatchery industrial" complex we were so smitten by. The last bits of the foundation are crumbling. The hatchery fish are having the same problems as the wild fish. Their numbers decline, so much so in Puget Sound that rivers are closed to angling to make sure hatcheries get enough broodstock back. And at the same time that hatcheries cannot make escapement, the state continues to allow harvest on wild stocks hovering at low levels barely making their escapement goals. The take continues with the fishermen looking for numbers in an age of low numbers. "Look at me," seems to be the name of the game.
The raceways, cities, and suburbs have no soul. You can find it walking through ancient forests, watching shooting stars trace a path through dark skies, and releasing a native steelhead back into the green waters. Through a fish, you can feel a connection with all that has been lost. You have briefly touched a part of the past, a past of natural bounty.
Now, dams are being removed. Serious thought is given to segregating hatchery fish from wild fish. Weirs are being installed to block hatchery fish from accessing spawning tribs. Slowly but surely the wild fish are having their revenge. The main point is that no matter the technology, hatchery fish require the same things that wild fish do.... healthy rivers and oceans.
All we are left with is scraps, hopefully enough crumbs have been dropped so that we may follow them backwards and save something worthwhile of the past.
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