So I Caught This Really Big Fish...

Outdoor enthusiast Mike Bitton falls for salmon fishing...hook, line and sinker

By Mike Bitton

About three years ago, I moved my family to Vancouver to take advantage of what I like to call the Cascade Playground. In this magnificent setting of sea, river, volcanic peaks and forest, I could play outside for the rest of my life and still not see all the terrain at my doorstep.

I might even get to catch a salmon, that fish whose legendary size could easily dwarf the 5- and10-pound trout I’d never managed to catch on a fly as a teen. But where to go? What tackle to use? I had no idea.

Enter Morgan Andersen. He’s got a dental practice in East Vancouver. When he’s not doctoring mouths, Andersen is fishing. He’s been asking me to stalk salmon with him for a few years now. Last month, we finally set a date.

The day before our outing, I called Morgan to ask where and when we’d meet. He was already fishing at one of his secret spots, and had landed two large female Chinook salmon that day. “Just meet me tomorrow morning at 5:45 behind the McDonald’s in Tillamook,” he said. “Gotta go, I’m dropping my anchor!” And he was gone.

I was okay with the vague details, but our start time sounded nutty. To get to Tillamook, by 5:45 a.m., I’d have to leave my house in Vancouver at 3:45 a.m. I’ve never gotten up at 3:45 a.m. for anything. But this was a chance to learn salmon fishing from a master angler. I made a special trip to Joe’s Sporting Goods on Hayden Island to get my one-day Oregon fishing license, then went home and tried to sleep.

The next morning, as I dozed in the parking lot of the Tillamook McDonald’s, my cell phone rang. “We have a problem,” Morgan said. “The tide is still out and there’s too much fog. We’re delayed at least an hour.” No biggie, I thought. I can wait. Morgan decided to run some errands. I nestled in to catch some more sleep.

By 7 a.m., the sun was up, the tide had turned from ebb to flow, and the fog was burning off. We picked up Morgan’s flat-bottomed boat from a buddy’s place and headed for a launch in Tillamook Bay.
Five rivers drain into Tillamook Bay: the Kilchis, Wilson, Trask, Tillamook and Miami. Depending on how the action was, we might fish several of them, Morgan said.

Once on the water, Morgan aimed the bow to the first hole of the day. We respectfully motored past a dozen boats already anchored above deep holes in one of the rivers. Most of the anglers were friendly, offering a nod, a wave, or details on the morning’s action.
We got to our first stop, just downstream from the Highway 101 bridge, and dropped anchor.

“You ever used a bait casting rod?” Morgan asked.

“Uh, not really,” I admitted.

“Well, you will today,” he said. Morgan put a lure on the rod I’d be using and showed me how to cast it. Looked pretty easy.

It wasn’t.

Morgan effortlessly tossed casts exactly where he wanted them. My tries resulted in bird’s nests of line erupting from my reel. Morgan caught fish after fish, all day long. My steep learning curve kept me untangling my line.

Morgan felt so bad for me that he started to let me reel in his fish. He even took a picture of me holding one—a chum salmon, or dog salmon—as though I’d hooked and landed it myself. He desperately wanted me to have something to show from my first salmon trip.

As the tide ebbed, we made our way downstream, stopping to cast into promising-looking holes as we went. Hope began to fade that I’d catch anything that day. Morgan told me I was welcome to one of the two female Chinooks he’d caught the day before. He couldn’t send me home empty handed.

In the last hole of the day, I made my first great cast. My bait, a secret Morgan Andersen combination of salmon eggs and other fishy-smelling stuff, drifted through the hole as perfectly placed as could be.

Then my bobber disappeared. I knew I was supposed to set the hook, but was too stunned to move. My bobber bounced back up to the surface, then disappeared again. I jerked the rod back to set the hook, and there was a heavy tug on the end of the line. Fish on!

After a 30-minute battle, we got the fish into the boat. I was speechless. The thing was massive. It didn’t even look real.

“That’s a great fish, Mike!” Morgan shouted. “I’m so happy for you.”

Yeah, me too, I thought.

I’d done it! With the help of a new fishing buddy, I’d caught my first salmon. At that moment, I felt a deeper connection to the Northwest than I’d ever imagined possible.

A whole new field has opened on my Cascade Playground. I expect I’ll spend a few days every November to come doing exactly this; chasing Chinook in the rivers that drain into Tillamook Bay.

ADDITIONAL INFO:

Salmon University
www.salmonuniversity.com
Info on salmon fishing in the Northwest, run by a couple of old local reelers.

Plan To Fish
www.plantofish.com
Excellent resource for salmon and steelhead fishing on SW Washington rivers, with a focus on the Cowlitz River.

Northwest Fish
www.nwfish.com
Fishing (and crabbing!) reports, info, tips and tricks and guide trips in WA and OR fishing (though mostly OR).

WA Dept. of Fish and Wildlife
wdfw.wa.gov/
Licensing, regulations and general info on fishing in Washington.

OR Dept. of Fish and Wildlife
www.dfw.state.or.us/fish/
Licensing, regulations and general info on fishing in Oregon.