Springer time
By
MIKE STAHLBERG
Register Guard
April 14, 2009
Spring chinook salmon runs are now under way on Rogue, several other Oregon rivers
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GOLD BEACH - Many
a cold, dark hour passes in Oregon awaiting the arrival of spring.
The same can be said of the vigil for big salmon named for the season.
Here where sport fishing for salmon in Oregon began (or so locals claim), fishing for spring chinook is very much a waiting game.
Boat and bank anglers alike pick a likely spot, put out their bait and wait.
Wait for a salmon scooting from the ocean to the spawning beds on the upper Rogue to grab at a snack on its way by.
Waiting at anchor in a prime spot for several days - in effect, camping out on the boat - is not uncommon when the springers are running. Neither is making your way to a hole by flashlight, then waiting for sun-up and legal fishing hours.
For those who hook up with a spring chinook, however, the wait is well worth it.
Few things brighten a day more than the arrival of a herd of hungry spring chinook at the Clay Banks, Elephant Rock or any of a number of other popular fishing holes along the lower Rogue River.
"A springer bite is a real adrenalin rush," said Bruce Craviotto, a Eugene fishing guide who focuses on Rogue River salmon from April to September, hitting both spring and fall runs. "When you have a good springer day, there's nothing that beats it."
The bite was on in late March, prompting talk here of a big springer year.
"It was the best March we had in five years," Craviotto said. "Everybody got excited."
But as April day after April day passed without measurable rain, the river dropped and cleared. And most salmon opted to bide their time in the ocean.
"I haven't had a bite in two days," Craviotto lamented as he anchored his boat near Clay Banks last Tuesday. He and fellow guide Gene Garner baited hooks with fresh anchovy as a friend of Garner's, Glen Newton, anchored alongside. Their four-rod "hog line" formed a picket fence of bait and spinners across in a 10-yard wide swath of water through which salmon were judged most likely to swim.
The veteran anglers told stories and played "liar's dice" (is there a more appropriate game for fishermen?) while waiting for a salmon to announce its arrival by ripping line from one of the rods.
After three hours, a cell phone rang. One of Craviotto's buddies fishing two miles downstream reported landing a 33-pounder and losing another large fish after a long battle.
"Hopefully, they're headed this way," Craviotto said.
As the sun sank towards the canyon rim, Garner's rods started bouncing up and down, its reel "clicking" as line was pulled out.
"There he is, Gene-o! There he is!" Craviotto shouted. He released the anchor rope so the boat could drift downstream as Garner fought the fish in heavy current.
Fifteen minutes later, they were celebrating the boating of a bright, football-shaped salmon that pulled the pointer on a hand-held scale down to the 25-pound mark.
The Rogue River is known for fat fish like that, although the river first earned that reputation for commercial fishing, not sport.
In 1876, Robert D. Hume established a cannery at Gold Beach. In an attempt to assure a continued supply of salmon for his cannery, Hume built the first fish hatchery in the area in 1878. At the time, according to a local history posted at www.goldbeachoregon.net, "it wasn't known that salmon would take a hook and line Š salmon (were) harvested with seine and gill nets."
But, in 1896, the story goes, "a Mr. Frank was fishing for trout near the mouth of the Rogue River using a fly rod and small spinner. To his and everyone else's surprise he reeled in an 18-pound salmon, and Rogue River sport fishing was born."
Spring salmon
fishing on the Rogue generally peaks between mid-April and
mid-May.The same can be said of the vigil for big salmon named for the season.
Here where sport fishing for salmon in Oregon began (or so locals claim), fishing for spring chinook is very much a waiting game.
Boat and bank anglers alike pick a likely spot, put out their bait and wait.
Wait for a salmon scooting from the ocean to the spawning beds on the upper Rogue to grab at a snack on its way by.
Waiting at anchor in a prime spot for several days - in effect, camping out on the boat - is not uncommon when the springers are running. Neither is making your way to a hole by flashlight, then waiting for sun-up and legal fishing hours.
For those who hook up with a spring chinook, however, the wait is well worth it.
Few things brighten a day more than the arrival of a herd of hungry spring chinook at the Clay Banks, Elephant Rock or any of a number of other popular fishing holes along the lower Rogue River.
"A springer bite is a real adrenalin rush," said Bruce Craviotto, a Eugene fishing guide who focuses on Rogue River salmon from April to September, hitting both spring and fall runs. "When you have a good springer day, there's nothing that beats it."
The bite was on in late March, prompting talk here of a big springer year.
"It was the best March we had in five years," Craviotto said. "Everybody got excited."
But as April day after April day passed without measurable rain, the river dropped and cleared. And most salmon opted to bide their time in the ocean.
"I haven't had a bite in two days," Craviotto lamented as he anchored his boat near Clay Banks last Tuesday. He and fellow guide Gene Garner baited hooks with fresh anchovy as a friend of Garner's, Glen Newton, anchored alongside. Their four-rod "hog line" formed a picket fence of bait and spinners across in a 10-yard wide swath of water through which salmon were judged most likely to swim.
The veteran anglers told stories and played "liar's dice" (is there a more appropriate game for fishermen?) while waiting for a salmon to announce its arrival by ripping line from one of the rods.
After three hours, a cell phone rang. One of Craviotto's buddies fishing two miles downstream reported landing a 33-pounder and losing another large fish after a long battle.
"Hopefully, they're headed this way," Craviotto said.
As the sun sank towards the canyon rim, Garner's rods started bouncing up and down, its reel "clicking" as line was pulled out.
"There he is, Gene-o! There he is!" Craviotto shouted. He released the anchor rope so the boat could drift downstream as Garner fought the fish in heavy current.
Fifteen minutes later, they were celebrating the boating of a bright, football-shaped salmon that pulled the pointer on a hand-held scale down to the 25-pound mark.
The Rogue River is known for fat fish like that, although the river first earned that reputation for commercial fishing, not sport.
In 1876, Robert D. Hume established a cannery at Gold Beach. In an attempt to assure a continued supply of salmon for his cannery, Hume built the first fish hatchery in the area in 1878. At the time, according to a local history posted at www.goldbeachoregon.net, "it wasn't known that salmon would take a hook and line Š salmon (were) harvested with seine and gill nets."
But, in 1896, the story goes, "a Mr. Frank was fishing for trout near the mouth of the Rogue River using a fly rod and small spinner. To his and everyone else's surprise he reeled in an 18-pound salmon, and Rogue River sport fishing was born."
Meanwhile, Craviotto and Garner were anxious to try their luck again the next morning. Garner opted to launch his boat 15 miles upriver at Quosatana Park. Using a hand-held spotlight to help find his way, he motored upriver a couple of miles to a favorite "one boat hole."
"The river here funnels them right under the boat," Garner said. "We should be in for a dynamite day."
Alas, the only "bites" that morning came from anglers chowing down on the hearty hot biscuit, bacon and egg breakfast that Garner prepared on his boat's campstove/oven.
Craviotto and Garner agreed that fishing should heat up again once the Rogue rises.
"When the fish really move a lot in this river is when the water is up, and it's a little muddy," Garner said.
The Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife does not project run sizes for Rogue River salmon. But Steve Mazur, an ODFW biologist in Gold Beach, said he expects the 2009 springer run to be "better than last year, but not significantly."
"March was a pretty good month," Mazur said, "We had some decent numbers of fish moving through."
And there are more big fish being caught this year, he said.
"There's definitely been a lot of fish in the 20s (pounds) and a few in the 30s," he said.
The key to catching spring salmon in the lower Rogue is being there waiting for them when they arrive.
"These springers don't really hold up" in the estuary like fall chinook do, Mazur said. "They come in (the bay) and they keep going."
A recent radio-tracking study found that most salmon make it from the bay to Gold Ray Dam near Medford, a distance of about 130 miles, in 30 days. And they move fastest early in their journey.
"From here, they're basically past Agness (35 miles upriver) in three days," Mazur said.
The Rogue River isn't the only place to catch spring chinook in Oregon, although it is second only to the Columbia among Oregon rivers in the production of springers.
From 1995 through 2007, annual catches on the Rogue ranged from about 2,500 springers to about 20,000. The majority are caught above tidewater, from Elephant Rock to above Gold Ray Dam.
Only two other Oregon watersheds can be counted on to turn out catches of more than 1,000 spring chinook per year, according to ODFW harvest statistics.
The Columbia is expected to have a huge run of nearly 300,000 spring chinook this year - the third largest run since 1977.
Angling has been good below Bonneville Dam. One day last week 3,200 boats were counted on the Columbia.
However, the segment of the Columbia run that turns south into the Willamette River and its tributaries is expected to number only 37,400 this year, leading the state to reduce angling opportunities below Willamette Falls. Fishing is limited to three days a week through April 30, and anglers may keep only one salmon per day.
The restrictions should help assure that at least 20,000 springers make it over Willamette Falls. "If that happens, we should have a moderate fishery" in the Santiam, McKenzie and Middle Fork Willamette rivers, said Jeff Ziller, district fish biologist in Springfield.
Meanwhile, the lower Umpqua River was also producing spring chinook as far upriver as Bunch Bar last week. District fish biologist Laura Jackson in Roseburg expects "a similar size run as last year," which would be about 7,000.
Information on guided Rogue River salmon fishing trips with Bruce Craviotto is available at: www.salmonspecialist.com; For details on Gene Garner's guide service, see: www.genegarner.net.
