Upland pursuits: Break from the Blues — salmon and elk on the lower Columbia

I had heard tales of Buoy 10, how big and bright the salmon were, and how rough the river under tidal influence could be. To experience it firsthand was something different.

Matt and I jumped aboard a 20-foot open-hull sled with two other strangers and a guide. The overcast sky was ominous, threatening an unknown amount of rain at any time, but the wind was calm. We motored into the river from the harbor in Warrenton and joined the sea of other fishing boats trolling the same circuit in search of bright coho salmon. Coho were on the keeper list, although catching a big Chinook was something we were all hoping for.

Cut plug herring and dodgers were spooled out behind the boat and rods were locked into holders that allowed us to sit back and chat while the bait and trolling speed worked their magic. I’ve always found trolling and fishing crowded areas to be detrimental to the experience, but as a rod that was lifelessly bobbing on the gunnel suddenly slammed double, the entire world narrowed to a singular focus.

Matt was first on the rod, and upon retrieving it from the gunnel, he locked the spool and leaned into a solid fish. The heavy rod bounced and the drag zinged as the fish made several moderate runs. Minutes later, a flash appeared and the guide stepped in with the net. The big beautiful coho was an exciting catch to kick the skunk and any boredom off of the boat.

Everyone had an opportunity to land their limit of coho, but when it came to catching my limiting fish, it seemed the tail of the coho run had passed upstream. The fishing had slowed all together, and we searched for hours for another aggressive fish.

As time passed the six-hour mark, we turned downriver toward the salt. Our guide was determined to put me on my second coho and we had yet to fish Buoy 10. The swells coming in from the ocean were big and rolling, yet tolerable. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before one of the stout rods slammed down to the water surface.

Upon grabbing the rod, my only defense was simply to hang on. The fight of the fish was stronger than any we had boated prior. Long, drag-peeling runs repeatedly took back any line I could gain. Its speed was unmatched by any of the prior catches. And it never revealed itself before finally succumbing to fatigue. A dime-bright Chinook rolled along the boat as the guide scooped it with the net.

I had never seen a Chinook fresh from the salt. It was simply stunning, boasting a deep teal dorsal, mirror shine on its chrome lateral scales, and contrasting black speckling. I thought it small for a Chinook, but its fight was that of a much larger fish. As we released the salmon to continue its spawning migration, I could only imagine the bullish fight of a bright Chinook that was double in size.

Concluding my epic fish fight, I encouraged our guide to give up the hunt for coho and motor into a nearby inlet to pull some crab pots. We ended the day with a load of fresh Dungeness and some fine salmon filets.

The following morning, Matt continued fishing while I explored the history of Fort Stevens and stalked bulls of another kind. Fort Stevens’ prominent Roosevelt elk herd was feeding along the banks of the Columbia River. Five tawny bulls with heads and antlers as dark as molasses fed in the senescing grasses along Jetty Lagoon. The pile dike breakwater and Astoria-Megler Bridge provided a backdrop for the feeding herd. Small flocks of waterfowl flew overhead and the air tasted of saltwater. Sea lions bellowed from the broken down remains of the Columbia River seawall beyond the surf.

The bull elk could not have cared less about being watched as they went about their business. Occasionally, they would test one another with aggressive posture before returning to breakfast. Being accustomed to hunting elk in mountains made this herd feeding along the Columbia River estuary at dawn seem surreal.

Matt’s day concluded with another haul of coho and crab and we processed the bounty before turning in for the night. The morning would bring more miles in search of waterfalls, rocky beaches, and eventually, northern California redwoods.

The cool and damp coastal days were a pleasant break from the heat of the Blues. If you are ready for fall and could use a primer for the upcoming fishing and hunting seasons, experiences to be had downriver are rejuvenating and bound to spark your enthusiasm for the months to come.