I was skimming though the archives of the FishwithJD Youtube channel and ran across this video of underwater salmon bites I shot last summer. Yeah, I’ve posted it before, but after a long winter, it got me fired up to fish…and figured it would pump you up, too!
Hook Placement: If it Bleeds it Dies, right? Not so Fast…
Over the past several years, I’ve had the good fortune of being hired by various agencies to catch — with rod and reel — Chinook salmon for acoustic tagging studies. These have all been tracking programs to look at the spatial and temporal distribution of both spring and fall kings…but some very interesting anecdotal information has come out as well.
Some of the most compelling stuff had to do with the relationship between hook placement in a fish and its chance for survival.
As I started reflecting on some of my experiences, I got on the horn with noted Northwest guide and fellow “science angler” Bob Toman, who has done even more salmon tagging than I in Oregon. As always, he was extremely interesting talk to and had a lot of info to share as well.
So, here are just some random observations from our experiences – ones that I think may surprise you a bit…
If it Bleeds it Dies??
One of the longstanding beliefs I’ve held onto over the years is that a salmon or steelhead is likely going to die if it is pumping blood from its gills. Might as well bonk it, right? Well, not so fast…
After tagging hundreds of Chinook on the Yuba and Feather rivers in Northern California, I’ve had a handful of our fish hooked deep in the gill arches (mostly hooked on No. 4 & 5 spinners) -– all of which I figured were dead. A couple did die, but we also had several amazing stories of survival.
The most blatant example came one October while targeting fall kings on the Yuba. A dusky buck of nearly 30 pounds mashed my Kwikfish and took it down deep…way deep. When we got the fish to the boat, the K15 was barely visible in its mouth. It quickly became obvious that the fish had a severed gill arch as it was pumping an alarming amount of blood.
Fishing had been slow so far that week, so the biologists decided to outfit the king with an acoustic tag anyway. While they tagged and measured the salmon, I constantly scooped blood out of the livewell with a 5-gallon bucket and replaced it with fresh water. The buck was bleeding so heavily that I couldn’t keep the water clean and soon he was obscured by crimson in the tank.
When we released the big boy, we watched as he swam weakly off in a daze and figured he’d be buzzard food by morning. Well, a couple weeks later, the biologist texted me and said that she found our fish, dubbed “The Bleeder,” many miles upstream and hanging with a female on a redd!
Toman has had similar experiences with spring Chinook on the Willamette River. He said that 150 springers that he caught and tagged one session were released into a fish ladder so they could be monitored. Of that batch, a little over a dozen of the fish had been hooked in the gill arches and were bleeders. After their release, several of the wounded Chinook drifted upside down and were barely quivering against the back screen of the pen. The biologist figured those kings were going to die and almost pulled them from the pen to toss them downstream. But he decided not to and was blown away to see that the fish had righted themselves later and eventually all survived to swim out on their own.
The Ability to Heal
“Salmon have blood pressure just like you and I do,” says Toman. “When you make them bleed, the pressure drops off a bit and then they can often plug the hole and stop the blood loss. Eventually, their bodies remanufacture more blood and they can continue on.”
I had never thought about that – the fact that a fish can sustain a potentially mortal wound and then sometimes heal itself — but Toman’s point really makes sense.
“You see those fish with big seal, shark or killer whale bites and you know they must have been bleeding like a stuck pig when it first happened,” he says. “But, again, they are able to heal themselves and the lost blood gets replaced.”
Mortality Rates
Toman concedes, however, that mortality was as high as 83 percent on his springers when hooked in the gills. During his study years, there was a 60 percent mortality rate for gut-hooked fish. The most impressive and encouraging stat, however, was that just 2.3 percent of the fish Toman hooked in the jaw died on his projects.
To support that evidence, I tagged 114 spring Chinook on the Yuba a few years back. When hired later that year to catch Fall-Run, I actually recaptured 5 of my springers! Pretty amazing when you consider it was 4 months later when I caught them again! Of those 5 re-captures, all were jaw hooked the first time and two were gill hooked the second time. All five “two timers” were later tracked upstream in the spawning areas.
Toman says that the “official number” assigned to catch and release mortality of springers in Oregon is 12 percent overall, but that seems a bit high and he has been asking survey crews to ask anglers where their fish were hooked to try to gain more data about hook placement.
I think info like that is important for fisheries managers to consider when looking at quotas and regulations for rivers that have both hatchery and wild fish in them. Obviously, we want to keep angling opportunities available while minimizing any damage to the native spawner population. Some of that can be accomplished with catch & release and gear-specific regs. ?
Better Management?
We’ve already looked at mortality rates of spring Chinook based on hook placement and Toman thinks that data too could be used as a management tool to increase survival of released fish.
“One thing I’ve noticed is when we fished prawns straight or with a Corkie, the springers routinely swallowed them,” says Toman. “But when we rigged prawns with spinners, the fish hit them like a lure and were almost always hooked in the jaw – about 90 percent were like that. Though I get nowhere at all with it, I’ve been suggesting the managers look at maybe making some regulations that would reduce the incidence of gut-hooked fish. If you could use only, say, a prawn spinner on the Columbia, we could keep that mortality rate down around that 2.3 percent rather than the 12 percent they say it is. It would be a great tool for us because we would get to fish a whole lot longer.”
Speaking of gear changes, Toman says that he feels that there are several situations in which the mandatory use of larger hooks would also help because he believes they keep fish from swallowing the bait.
“We did a lot of underwater filming in Alaska, watching kings bite eggs,” he says. “A 2/0, 3/0 or even 4/0 hook can get swallowed pretty deep — but with big 5/0 and 6/0’s on there, a fish feels them pretty quickly and starts shaking his head rather than continuing to swallow. Then you hook ‘em in the mouth more often than the gills or gut.”
Of course, there are other things to consider – trebels or singles; how long a fish is played; how it is handled, water temps, etc., but Toman makes some interesting points here.
Food for thought anyway…
The RoeMaster Spinner: The world’s most deadly lure that never was!
Could the RoeMaster Spinner have been the world’s deadliest lure? We’ll never know! A radically new concept conceived of by a diabolically brilliant lure designer, it appeared briefly in the early 1990’s but then disappeared into the night and was never heard from again.
But what happened?
I’m glad you asked! Considering I was the “mastermind” behind the RoeMaster, I guess I am qualified to tell its story…and in case you haven’t already guessed, the answer is no…No, it wasn’t destined to become the planet’s greatest fish catcher of all time. But it was fun to pretend. :)
Two Great Tastes that Taste Great Together!
As a college student at Humboldt State University, I must confess that I spent more time pursuing girls and steelhead than good grades. Back in those days, we skipped a lot of class to fish the nearby Mad, Eel, Klamath, Trinity and Van Duzen rivers — and those endeavors are what inspired the RoeMaster.
During those river sessions, I quickly learned that salmon and steelhead were really susceptible to roe – and well presented spinners. So, why not combine the two and make the world’s most deadly offering: A spinner/roe combination?
An evil plan indeed…and with it, I would soon rule the salmon and steelhead world!
Well, not so fast there, junior!
RoeMaster Comes to Life!
So, with my idea now hatched, I borrowed some cash from pops and bought some components and started bending wire. After some trial and error, I settled on a design that consisted of a French blade (RoeMasters were available in the odd size range of #1, #3 and #5) and then a hand-painted lead bullet weight (or worm weight that bass anglers use with Texas Rigs)…though I eventually switched to brass worm weights on later versions. Then, the “roe” was a Luhr Jensen Gooey Bob slid up the shaft below the weight. I’d then finish it off with a Gamakatsu treble or siwash hook (your choice).
Before I had a wire forming tool, the early editions were bent with a set of pliers and the results were…well…let’s just say they weren’t super pretty!
Design Flaws
Well, it all seemed like a good idea, but the RoeMaster wasn’t exactly the best design of all time. First off, at high RPM’s, the blade would hit the Gooey Bob, causing it to stall out. At super slow speeds, however, it worked okay. Then there was that whole faux roe thing. My idea of combining two of the great salmon and steelhead offerings into one kinda fell flat on its face when you consider that the rubber egg cluster was totally lacking in one key ingredient: that milky, smelly goodness that leeches out of real roe. Hmmm…didn’t really think that one through! Sure, you could lather it up in scent, but it was still no match for the real deal.
Early Tests
Despite all the lure’s imperfections, it actually fished pretty darned well. Its first day on the water took place at the confluence of the Eel and Van Duzen rivers, where it actually hooked a few nice steelhead and out-fished my buddies who were using the standard for that spot, gold/red Little Cleos.
That winter, the RoeMaster had its finest hour on the Mad River just below the hatchery in Blue Lake, where I hooked 6 winter steelhead in off-color water one February afternoon while the other 23 anglers in the lineup hooked a grand total of 3 while using an assortment of drift gear. The fact that I was standing in the meat of the hole was totally lost on me and I chalked my success up instead to the deadly effectiveness of my new creation!
That fall, the new brass weight edition of the RoeMaster made its debut on the Feather River’s infamous Outlet Hole. Again, the lure preformed well and the Chinook seemed to like it.
The Rise & Fall of the Empire
Bolstered by the success of the tests, my dad and I got down to the business of marketing the lure that we were certain would soon propel us into Fortune 500 status. Step one: Come up with a catchy name…RoeMaster. Done.
Step two: A clever slogan: “It’s not a lure, it’s a Weapon!” Ah yes, we obviously turned the queso index to “high” to come up with that one! Cheesy tag line accounted for, we then went to the only place I knew of to advertise such a fish-catching machine, Salmon Trout Steelheader magazine.
So, the RoeMaster ad made its debut in the Feb/March 1992 issue of STS and ran three times that year. The ad copy included several bullet points, highlighting the lure’s attributes. My favorite was “Field tested and recommended by fisheries biologists.” The biologists were my uncle and his buddy and I can’t help but think about how damned funny that sounds now. One could argue that if the fishery biologists were endorsing the product, maybe it was because they realized it posed no serious threat to fish populations! Obviously, a marketing guru I was not…
I think most hard-core anglers could see the inherent flaws in the design right in the picture in the ad and RoeMaster sadly never took off. Needless to say, thanks to sales that could be counted on one hand, I never got my Gulfstream G3 and that island in the Bahamas. Instead, I ended up with a garage full of components (that I cannibalized down to nothing over the years), and a couple good laughs looking back after all the years. These days, there’s not much left of the mighty RoeMaster except for bags and bags of unused Gooey Bobs and a couple originals left on the garage wall.
Oh well, it was a good ride. Maybe someday I’ll have to update the design and bring RoeMaster outta retirement. Or, perhaps some things are best left alone…
We even had some shirts back in the day…
The Togiak River: Alaska’s All-Species Mecca
Alaska’s Togiak River has a rich reputation for being a world-class king salmon fishery, but there’s a lot more to this Southwestern gem than meets the eye.
Blessed with excellent runs all five Pacific salmon species, it also harbors some outstanding trout, dolly and pike fishing. Even more exciting is the fact that many of the Togiak’s species run on the large side. Throw in some beautiful scenery and you have yourself one heck of a fishing destination!
While there is good multi-species fishing throughout the river’s length, the lower 15 miles is where most of the salmon fishing takes place on the Togiak. Here’s a species by species look at what the river has to offer:
Kings
Kings are the stars of the show here. And why not? They grow ‘em, big on the Togiak and the fish often return in numbers that place it among the greatest Chinook fisheries on planet earth. The river has pumped out salmon over 70 pounds and every season there’s a handful in the 50-pound range taken.
“The Togiak is a great river for nice, big fish,” says Kevin Lund, whose family owns Togiak River Lodge. “It can be cyclical, but the normal size range is around 25 to 30 pounds.”
Kings typically show in the lower river in early summer, and by June 20 the are usually enough fish around to make targeting them worthwhile. Most seasons, the peak of the run occurs right round the Fourth of July. Lund notes, however, that the fish can be a week earlier than that on low water years – and a week later in high water. The Togiak closes to king fishing on Aug. 1 and the action can hold out right through the end – especially when the water is high and cold.
In the river’s lower reaches, most of the kings that are caught are beautifully chrome. Rare indeed is the bright red “fire engine” Chinook. That changes, of course, the further the salmon swim upstream.
Togiak kings are super snappy and, when they’re around in any kind of numbers, are pretty easy to hook. Back-trolled HawgNose Flatfish, MagLip 5.0, and K16 Kwikfish will all produce in chartreuse/chrome, pink/white and chartreuse/metallic blue/chrome. A fresh sardine fillet wrapped to the belly of the plug will increase the number of bites you get, but isn’t as essential here as it is on other rivers.
Backtrolling cured eggs behind size 40-50 Jet Divers is also extremely productive, as is back-bouncing with the same bait. Many kings also fall victim to large egg clusters fished under bobbers here.
In the lower few tidally influenced miles of river, downstream trolling with spinners is a popular and effective way to tempt fresh-from-the-salt kings.
Silvers
The Togiak has few peers as a king fishey – and yet it may be an even better place to fish for silvers. Coho ascend the river is massive hordes in the late summer/early fall and can produce non-stop action for both fly and conventional anglers.
While a few silvers will poke their noses into the Togiak in early August, fishing is usually pretty inconsistent during the first ten days of August. According to Lund, the fishing is nearly always going strong by Aug. 15 and, depending on water and weather conditions, it can carry on into October — though weather becomes an issue the later you get into the season.
“The river doesn’t just have big kings in it, the silvers run large here too,” says Lund. “The biggest we’ve seen at the lodge have been right at 20 pounds, with lots of 15 to 17 pounders caught each year.”
The biggest bucks tend to show up late for the party — towards the end of August – and Lund says you have a legit shot at fish 15 pounds and up every day at that time of year.
Because of their numbers and willingness to bite, the Togiak is a phenomenal place to chuck some fluff. Anglers stripping pink streamers and leeches on intermediate sink tips can pile up ridiculous numbers here. Some of the bars just above the mouth of the river will also produce topwater action on Pink Wogs.
Twitching ½- or 3/8-ounce marabou or hootchie jigs in pink is deadly for anglers using spinning gear and No. 4 spinners with pink hootchie skirts are killers as well. There are also times when small bass poppers dyed pink will solicit some epic surface strikes.
Rainbows
The Togiak doesn’t get the press about trout fishing that some other rivers just over the hill in the Wood-Tikchik dragline receive, but don’t let that fool you. The river plays host some wonderfully large rainbows that can top the 30-inch mark. The largest any of Lund’s guests have taken is 16 pounds!
Rainbows are available year-round and seem to be more present in the lower end of the river early in the season. They are pretty snaky at that time, but fatten up quickly as they follow the salmon up into the tributaries. In June, dark leech patterns produce plenty of fish, but egg imitations become the weapons of choice for much of the summer soon thereafter. Flesh patterns also come into play at the end of August when kings, chums and pinks start dying off and rotting.
Reds
With a large lake at its headwaters, plus several lake-fed tributaries, the Togiak drainage is home to an excellent red salmon run.
“I think the sockeyes are the longest running strain of salmon in the river,” says Lund. “They are here from June 15 through the middle of September, with the peak migration happening sometime in July.”
Reds show up in prime condition, silver and full of fight. They can reach very impressive sizes here, with 12 pounders showing every season – pretty impressive when you consider the world record for the species is 15 pounds and change.
Red salmon get pretty aggressive once they get near the spawning grounds and will lash out at spinners, jigs and leeches pretty regularly, but when they are in traveling mode in the lower river, it’s pretty much a “flossing” or “lining” show (aka mouth snagging like on the Russian or Kenai).
Chums
While chums can be found well up the Togiak, the best fishing for them takes place in the bottom end of the system. They tend to spawn in the river’s lower reaches, so the closer you can get to saltwater, the better shot you’ll have at both quantity and quality. Find a gravel bar along the softer water margins of the lower 5 miles of river and you can almost guarantee there will be doggies there. Prime time to chase chums is the last two weeks of July, but first week of August can be very good too.
Togiak chums are eager biters and seem extremely receptive to the swung fly. In most cases, you can fish a dry line (some of the best chum runs are only a few feet deep) with just about any type of “leechy” pattern you like. Pink is your number one color, though there are times when they respond better to purple or black.
From a conventional standpoint, you can catch all the chums you want twitching pink 3/8-ounce marabou jigs or fishing 1/8-ounce jigs under floats. Dogs will also lash out at any plug that gets in their way and often serve as a great reminder to anglers backtrolling for kings that they have indeed wandered too far out of the meat of the run and into the soft water.
Humpies
Okay, let’s call a spade a spade here. Humpies are more of a nuisance on the Togiak than anything else. For the record, I’m not a humpy hater. I’ve spent a lot of days chasing the little buggers around with fly gear throughout the state and had a ball doing it, but on a river like the Togiak, it’s a different deal. There’s so much potential here for the “glamour species,” that pinks just don’t come into play very often. But in their defense, it can be great fun for kids or beginners if you find a big pack of bright, fresh-from-the salt humpies to play with.
Luckily, pinks only show in the Togiak in large numbers on even-numbered years. This year, therefore, should be largely humpy-free.
Dollies
Not that you’d visit the Togiak just for dolly varden, but it wouldn’t be a bad choice if you did. The river gets a big run of them and the char here can get quite big: up to 6 or even 8 pounds.
They show up fresh from the salt and chrome as can be, in the early summer and fishing is often outstanding in the lower river in June and July and then the fish migrate upstream into the tributaries to dine on salmon eggs. By late summer, the dollies will have made the transition from silver to Technicolor, prettying themselves up for a spawn of their own.
Down low or up in a shallow feeder creek, dollies are suckers for anything that loosely resembles an egg. They’ll also smash small streamers, spinners and spoons.
PIKE
Many of the back sloughs and shallow lakes connected to the Togiak are refuges for scrappy northern pike. They don’t reach Yukon-like sizes here, but the pike can provide a fun afternoon diversion from salmon fishing.
Weedless topwater lures and buzzbaits thrown in and among the weeds and lily pads will solicit some heart-stopping attacks from pike, which will generally measure three feet or less.
OTHER SPECIES
While the above species are the main ones for Togiak River anglers, there are others. Some sizeable grayling call the river home, though most are found well upstream. The occasional laker is also rumored to be seen from time to time, presumably working its way down from Togiak Lake. And then there’s the huge population of starry flounder that carpet the bottom of the river’s lower end.
GUIDES AND LODGING
The lower Togiak River is reachable by boat from the village of Togiak. There’s limited lodging and guide services available there. A few lodges have boats stashed on the river and fly customers in for day trips when weather permits. The only lodging on the river itself is Togiak River Lodge, located in a prime location 7 miles upstream from the bay.
When the real Adventure lies in simply getting to the fishing spot: A Tribute to the Journey
So often we talk and write about the destination…but frequently the journey to the fishing grounds is the true story. Don’t believe me? Well, then just think for a moment on all the stuff you’ve done in your life to get to the fish: Some of it was probably not exactly what you’d call safe. Some was physically grueling and some of it was straight up fun.
This is a tribute to the journey: To all the rapids run and river crossings that were just at the top of your waders. To the miles hiked and rough water poundings. To the brilliant sunsets, calm waters and the epic adventures that make this sport so awesome. This is a tribute to Getting There.
Is there anything better than blazing across glassy water at dawn? The anticipation of what the day holds is almost too much to stand, so you slam the throttle all the way open so you can get there just a bit faster. Unfortunately, these beautiful quiet moments are usually forgotten as soon as you get to where you are going and the lines are in…well, until the next morning anyway.
Perhaps more than any other method of transportation, small inflatables enhance “the journey is the adventure” concept. Man, some of the things we’ve done in these things would give the manufactures’ legal teams nightmares if they only knew. But what fun! And in some spots, personal rafts and pontoons are the only way to get there.
Alaskan backcountry jet boating in a little jonboat that could run on a wet lawn is one of my favorite things to do on this planet. Arm yourself with couple rods, a shotgun, a shovel and a chainsaw and go find the source of some creek. The “getting there” part is guaranteed to be more fun than the actual fishing!
Sometimes getting back is all you can think about. Maybe the dreaded north wind blew 35 freezing knots all day, the fish didn’t bite and now you have to beat your way right into the teeth of it to get home. It’s funny how it always seems that, after one of those long, cold, wet rides home you pull into the harbor and the wind lies
down and you think “well, that wasn’t so bad.” And that’s exactly how you end up back out on the water the very next day.
It’s something most sane people wouldn’t understand…but the allure of catching chrome far outweighs the risk of encountering something that’s higher up the food chain. Never mind that steaming pile of droppings in the middle of the path and the still flopping salmon missing its belly on the bank…there probably aren’t any grizzlies around here…right? Here, the journey involves some edgy nerves and, often, a heavily pounding heart.
We all have those “I’m lucky I made it through that” moments and several of mine had to do with crossing raging rivers in chest waders and praying my next step out in the middle of the channel actually hits tierra firma before I fill up and get sucked down the deadly rapids below. And then there were those brutal hikes through the snow with felt soles…if you’ve done it you know what I’m talking about! Hiking and waders isn’t a great combination…but it usually means I’m headed somewhere cool.
I’ve been on some float trips in which the portages outnumbered the fish. It’s funny how those trips seem so brutal when you’re there…but often become the most fondly remembered adventures after some time passes and the memory of the pain fades… “There we were, dragging the boat around anything Mother Nature threw at us…we couldn’t be stopped.”
The journey is truly a thrill when you find a secret honey hole that takes a little creative driving to get to.
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