THE SOL DUC River served up summer conditions Monday, running low and clear with just a hint of emerald shading for much of the 7-mile stretch from the hatchery down to where its waters lapped up to five boards at the Maxfield Road boat launch.
Jerry Wright of Jerry’s Bait and Tackle (360-457-1308) in Port Angeles was kind enough to invite me along for a steelhead trip downriver back in February.
But blown-out conditions on the appointed weekend, and a state basketball tournament trip to Spokane on the next agreed-upon date conspired to keep me off the water during prime time.
Ultimately, Wright and I lit out at 4 a.m., two hours before first light, Monday in a bid to become the first drift boat looking to land a spring chinook and take pictures of any native steelhead still in play on the Sol Duc River.
Finding no other trucks and trailers parked at the Sol Duc Hatchery boat launch, I’ll safely assume we were the first to head out on that portion of the river.
Wright rigged us up as the light began to tip from darkness to dark denim and on down the color chart as the sun rose behind us.
He explained that we would be fishing with some of his cured and Pepto-Bismol pink salmon eggs, topped with sand shrimp and coated in some special scent under a bobber.
The traditional shrimp cocktail setup, with that added scent is a tried-and-true method for attracting springers and will also lure a curious steelhead.
Wright instructed me to keep the bobber pointing straight up at the sky, not skimming across the water, and if I saw it drop, to rear back, hammer the hook home and begin reeling.
While floating past the hatchery hole, Wright described how the fall hatchery salmon run crowd the entrance to their “native” home.
Wright gave me the flashlight before we approached the first set of rapids on the river, firing off instructions to move the beam to the next menacing rock before we bashed into it with his boat.
He told me not to worry about the boat banging against rocks higher up in the river, or on the bottom, so I was relatively calm as we banged and scraped over the patches of low water.
The first method we tried after setting off on the river was plugging with a Kwikfish.
Wright let me know to wait until the rod bent hard to the bottom before pulling out of the rod holder, setting the hook and reeling.
Then we played the waiting game at the Leyman Hole, scanning for rolling fish and keeping a close watch on the two rod holders.
This was a tough task for a novice river angler like myself, the dipping rod tip had me thinking “fish on” when it was really just the current creating the movement.
With the plugs down, Wright gave me some more instructions on how to cast and run the line down and how to keep moving the rod tip to keep the bobber aiming straight up to the sky.
I started with some practice casts and figured out the back-hand method worked the best for my uncoordinated self.
We continued to look for “sign of life,” as Wright called it, but saw just one fish roll, but Wright was able to discern that it was a spawned-out steelhead.
We moved on down the river, through multiple meanders, stopping for an extended stretch at a deep hole past the river’s extreme left turn, but spotting no sign of life.
Wright told me the story of how he fished out a passenger (no name given) from the river who had been sneaking vodka in a coffee cup all morning.
Even on a calmer day with the water low, boozing on a drift boat didn’t sound like the most well-thought out of plans.
We only saw one other fish rise during the six-hour trip.
There were what felt like numerous nibbles as small trout pulled off pieces of sand shrimp or salmon egg for a meal, but only one verified bite from what Wright said was a cutthroat trout.
But inexperienced as I am, I didn’t rear back far enough to set the hook properly, foolishly focusing first on reeling the “trophy” in.
The fish popped off the line above the water, falling back into the river to live to steal somebody else’s bait.
With the prospect of catching a fish looking grim, I focused on enjoying the ride as the sun rose higher, taking the temperature to right around 70 degrees.
Wright pointed out the prime spawning grounds, and I began to see the churned-up gravel beds as we approached.
As a normally danger-and thrill-averse person, running over the fast-churning portions of the river, such as the spot Wright called Thunder Rapids was especially heart-stopping.
Wright guided us through each turbid patch with ease, keeping us dry and safe and on to the next cast.
He was almost apologetic about the lack of action, but nobody else on the river that morning was catching anything, so it wasn’t just bad luck or subpar technique on my part.
I do have to try a little harder to keep that bobber pointing straight, though.
We each looked at it as a learning experience, a practice run for a salmon trip in October.
Thanks for your patience and for taking the time to make the trip, Jerry. I had a blast.
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Outdoors columnist Michael Carman appears here Thursdays and Fridays. He can be reached at 360-452-2345, ext. 5152 or at mcarman@peninsuladailynews.com.
