Nootka excursion is a Sound investment
Salmon anglers are known to go to extremes when it comes to catching fish.
They’ll drive or fly to faraway places. Go on minimal sleep. And, in some instances forgo lunch or dinner just to stay on the water a little while longer.
I experienced angling extremism in late July on a 12-hour journey from Seattle that took my family to Nootka Sound, a pristine area nestled off the upper west side of Vancouver Island.
Our excursion took us from Seattle to the Canada border, then to Tsawwassen, B.C., where we boarded the ferry to Vancouver Island.
From there we headed north to Campbell River, then west across the scenic mountains of Strathcona Park past Gold River, and finally onto a 30-mile remote logging road to Cougar Creek Park Campground, where the directions on my map boldly stated, “WATCH OUT FOR BEARS.”
We finally arrived by boat at the Gold River Fishing Camp, a rustic 10-bedroom floating lodge nestled in Galiano Bay.
We boarded Dan Mahoney’s “Voodoo Child” at 5:15 a.m., and it was a 25-minute ride to Maquinna Point, near the entrance of Nootka Sound on the Pacific Ocean.
Inside of Maquinna Point, we passed the San Rafael Island lighthouse near Friendly Cove, where Captain James Cook landed on March 31, 1778. Just west of where history was made, we rigged our downriggers with flashers and anchovies down to 30 feet. Then we began a zig-zag trolling pattern that took us to an area south of Bajo Reef along a shelf that rose to 80 feet, then dipped down to 180 feet.
It didn’t take long before one pole twitched. The line sizzled from the reel, and an 8-pound coho charged to the surface.
While the first coho shot straight up to the surface, the second fish I hooked wanted to head for deeper water. I thought it was a king salmon, but once it broke the surface, we saw a 25-pound halibut, normally a bottom-feeder.
The rest of the morning we had a few fish nibble our anchovy baits, but no hook-ups.
“Nootka is a wonderful place to fish, and it is so tranquil,” said Kay Kubota, 64, of Renton. “When you get to my age, it is just not the fishing that is important. It is the little things like the scenery, peacefulness and just being around good, nice people.”
On the second day of the trip, we headed to Burdwood Point in the pre-dawn darkness. Soon you could see the towering mountains of Sutton Range, heavily covered with western red cedar, Douglas fir, western hemlock and grand fir.
Things went great when we got to Burdwood at 6 a.m. I hooked a small chinook, which we released, by 6:30 a.m. Then it stopped, but the scenery was picture-postcard perfect, and put a smile on my face that seemed to stretch all the way to Seattle.
Suddenly, the radio blared a call and we switched to the secret channel known to only our fishing group as “tukan-chu.” We found out there was a good king bite happening in the ocean about 5 miles south of us at Escalante Point.
Once there, we found schools of bait on the fish finder. They were so thick in some places our fishing lines twitched as herring passed by. Here we were after 14 hours of near fruitless fishing. I had one coho, one halibut and some small fry salmon that I released.
On my first drop in 30 feet of water, I immediately latched onto a small, legal-sized lingcod and brought it into the boat.
You could sense every heart aboard the boat was beating a click faster. Things that seemed so wonderful to see before — like pods of gray whales just a few boat-lengths away blowing water and their huge tails coming straight out of the sea — were for the most part now an unnoticed sideshow.
Karyl Beyerle-Floor of Olympia, Wash., keeping a close watch on the fish finder, hollered, “Get your lines down to 20 feet. I’m marking big fish and lots of bait.”
I let out 20 pulls of line from my reel, and seconds later a king hit my herring bait like a freight train and took off to the horizon.
This big king didn’t want to come anywhere near the boat. I’d gain line, then it would head toward the bottom. Once I got it up near the surface it went left, then right, finally going deep for the second time.
After about 10 minutes it broke to the surface, and we had the net under him twice. Finally on the third swipe it unbuttoned itself and got away.
I’m never one to get down about losing a fish. I’ve caught enough kings in my lifetime to just enjoy the battle.
We baited our lines, and the action came back fast again. We hooked and lost another king, got three coho, two more lingcod and a handful of large copper rockfish.
As we pulled up our gear, I turned to my son, and we agreed that this is one of the most beautiful places in the world.
These are the good times, whether or not you catch fish, lose a night’s worth of sleep and drive hundreds of miles to get there.