7_12 Ocean Coho Report

Providence

One, One-Thousand, Two One-…   CRACK!!!   Way past time to get back to the beach.
Foot pegs in their closest positions, knees touching shoulders, head down, barely able to paddle but I knew what the faint vibration I felt meant and it wasn’t good.

I had worked out the perfect plan, which started with waking up before dawn and slipping out thru the backdoor to the Graveyard of the Pacific for some crab and Coho.  VHF was checked and double checked, hull examined for any weaknesses.  Safety flag in tow, cell phone for check ins, back-up GPS and compass just in case, PFD, diving knife, a green light ocean forecast and for the 1st time ever, a formal float plan.  Every failure mode had been considered and addressed, or so I thought.   My plan was to skirt the jetty, avoiding the heavy tidal forces and giving myself an easy out should anything catastrophic happen to my ride.  Once at Buoy 2, I’d have plenty of company available for a quick assist.  

Shooting the gap in a broken sandbar, I pushed up on an ebb-tide beach just in time to see another chain of lightning dance overhead.  One, One-Thousand, Two One-Thousand Th- CRACK!!!  
In a shallow depression below the dunes, I sat.  Arms wrapped around my knees, head down, creating a path to ground that would avoid most major organs.  Down the beach, two clam diggers sat in their pickups waiting out the storm cell that was raging from Tillamook head, north of the Columbia river and out beyond the horizon.  

I hadn’t bothered to scout the area before loading up and starting my trek.  I’d used the trail to the base of the Jetty a hundred times in years past and didn’t foresee any obstacles.  Funny thing dunes.  One year they slope gently to the beach with wide trails and the next, they become cliffs or erode into narrow chutes flanked with Ginsu sharp sedges.  As I turned back to the car, I paused to watch a thousand tiny candlefish mis-time a surge and end up flopping on a sandbar.  Far off in the distance, a roll of thunder could be heard.

“You OK?”  One of the pickups had pulled next to me and it’s driver, a local tug pilot, considered my posture.
“Yeah, just trying to avoid those lightning bolts.” I replied.
“Crazy weather isn’t it?  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a storm like this around here”  Which was really saying something considering that in tropical regions, the storms that batter this spit all winter long are called hurricanes.  “You’re welcome to ride it out in my truck.”

Trail number two was usually pretty good, though a lot steeper than my 1st choice and the going was easy until it turned to top the last dune.  Here, the trail had eroded to a narrow cut with serrated grass blades crisscrossing in the middle. @#$%^&*!!  Even if it wasn’t a 30 degree angle, my cart would never make it thru.
This time, after retracing my steps, I tied the bow of my kayak to the trunk latch and ever so slowly crept to the next access trail.  After a thorough scouting of the entire distance, I grabbed my yak and made the long trek, over steep dunes to the ocean.

Mike and I talked for a half hour or so in the cab of his pickup while watching the storm blow thru.  The clouds had thinned and the lightning seemed far away again.  Outside the truck, I thanked him for his kindness and wished him luck with the clams.  As he returned the well wishes, a thick bolt of lightning hit the jetty not 200yards behind him with a deafening Crack that nearly dropped us to our knees.  Not a word was exchanged as we dashed for the safety of his truck.

Finally at the ocean, I checked my watch.  Crap!  It was already 7:00AM.  I’d hoped to be to the end of the jetty by now.  
Directly West of the trail and 200yds out from the beach, I dropped my crab trap.  As there was no visible sign of the trail from the water I marked a waypoint for reference and began trolling toward the jetty.  Several claps of thunder had punctuated my launch and set-up but they were faint and distant.  Soon, I was seeing the flash and counting off double digits, then single digits.
A chain of lightning spread from south to north directly overhead and as my fishfinder blinked off I counted: One, One-Thousand, Two One-…   CRACK!!!   Foot pegs in their closest positions, knees touching shoulders, head down, barely able to paddle I thought about the 2hrs lost trying to find access.  I thought about where I’d be if everything had gone smoothly.  I thought about being alone…. 1.5 miles from shore….. floating in the Graveyard of the Pacific….. in the worst thunderstorm a local tug captain could remember.

Foolish Determination

I’d long since given up on the idea of catching the morning bite.  Between storm cells I tagged along with my host who rushed to gather clams before the tide turned or the next bout of lightning hit.  He was obviously very skilled so I asked a million questions but generally tried to stay out of his way. 
Realizing just how annoying I probably was, I moved down the beach and decided to try my hand using my paddle blade.  Let me tell you, paddle blades are not made for clam digging…  As I worked to complete a hole by hand, Mike stepped up behind me and offered his spare shovel.

The south jetty of the Columbia River is not to be taken lightly. Its enormous Rip Rap wall stretches for 3 miles and boats rarely venture in amongst the shallow sandbars, which form in its lee.  Buoy 2, lies another 1.5 miles beyond.

After more than 2 hours pinned down on the beach, a wedge of clear sky opened overhead.  I tried calling the girlfriend to let her know I’d be making the push to Buoy 2 but only reached her voicemail. 

Shaking the combined heebie jeebies of a solo offshore paddle and the near miss thunderstorms, I pushed past the surf line and re-assessed my game plan.  Making headway to the Buoy would be work but I could quarter in toward the jetty using the slight South to my advantage and then tack back out across the west.  This all would have been so much easier in the still dawn air.

Before I could even drop my gear, I found myself in the middle of an enormous bait ball.  The water was nearly black with tiny flashes of silver coming by in waves.  My fishfinder showed clouds of fish so thick that they were mistaken for a soft bottom.  Even at 50% sensitivity, I couldn’t get a true bottom reading when passing thru these massive schools.

I’d wanted to do some further testing on KoneZone flashers so my rig consisted of a “Funky Chicken” pattern Coyote Spoon on 3’ of 20lb leader.  Ahead of this was a 6” UV-Chartreuse KoneZone flasher also on 3’ of 20lb leader, buffered with a 6” snubber to take up the impact of a high speed Coho strike.  All of this was held down with a 6oz cannonball weight on a sliding swivel.

As I made my way out the jetty, I tried to skirt the edges of the massive schools of clandlefish, anchovies and shrimp?!?  (Schools of 5” shallow water shrimp???  I’d never even heard of that before….)  But this proved to be much more difficult than I’d imagined.  You see, every time I’d pick a line, the school would drift, either putting me in the middle of the school or nowhere near it. 

When I’d paddle thru the middle, my rod would bend deeply and twitch as though I was pulling my rig thru a milkshake.  Invariably, by the time I was on the other side, there would be a small baitfish or shrimp skewered on my hook.  This required frequent checks to ensure that my spoon still had some action.

About a half hour into my troll, my rod finally went Bendo.  The snubber kept it from snapping down toward the water but instantly line was peeling off my reel.  Fish On!!! 

After the initial run, the fish turned and came straight toward my yak.  I reeled feverishly to catch up but thought that for sure I’d lost it.  Nope.  As soon as that fish felt tension again it went airborne, cartwheeling and tailwalking across the water coming to rest just feet from me.  I quickly reached up and unsnapped my weight to ease in a netless landing, the lead dropping into my hand just in time for another line stripping run. 

When it finally tired, I lead it to the side of my yak, grabbed the leader in hand and applied tension.  My prize tried to power off but with it’s head facing up and toward me all it managed to do was launch out of the water and into my lap.  Game Over.

With my catch secured, I pushed on.  Headway was better than expected and before long I was past the half way point.  With any luck I’d limit before reaching the end of the jetty.  But, once again I caught glimpse of a flash.  @#$%^&*!!!

This time it was on the horizon and I wrote the 1st flash off as a fluke.  But, soon there was another and then another.  2 boats could be seen hightailing it back to the Columbia and, when a string of lightning bolts rolled across half the horizon I knew I was done.   

Quartering into the 5 to 10 knot SouthWesterly, I made surprisingly good time.  Maybe it was the angle or maybe it was the motivation of fear.  I’m still not sure which played a bigger part.  At some point on the return trip, I noticed that my VHF was no longer chattering.  Strange.  I also realized that my phone hadn’t rung.  Stranger.

As expected, the entire shoreline looked the same from the water.  Switching over to the map page, I noticed that my fishfinder backlight had turned on.  Not again!  I kept waiting for the flash or the crack but heard nothing except for what rolled in from the horizon. 

The final push to my waypoint was fast and clean.  I was singularly focused on finding the best lines and using the most efficient strokes.  In what seemed like no time at all I was pulling my trap and sorting crab.  2 nice keepers were retained to go with a Coho dinner. 

Finally back at my starting point around 1:00PM, I found that, as suspected, both my VHF and cell phone had turned off despite their nearly full charges.  When I got thru to the girlfriend, she was in tears.  She’d been trying unsuccessfully to contact me to make sure I was still OK and was on the phone with the Coastguard giving them my float plan when I called.

Funny how even the best laid plans can be rendered inadequate by some unexpected variable.  Funnier still how a couple of dreaded setbacks can potentially save your life.   

-Spot-

Wow Spot, that's pretty crazy!
Can't wait to see the rest!

Wow, talk about a report. Multi-episodes w/ cliffhangers. Bravo. 
Quite a story so far!

Z

 

But, I can't WAIT for tomorrow!

True

It's tomorrow now....

Yes it is and I'm still waiting (patiently, I might add).

True

The 2nd half of my report has been added to the original post of this thread.
Part 1 = Providence
Part 2 = Foolish Determination

Lightning, Downdrafts, Microburst Risks, exciting and scary stuff my friend, Glad Everthing Turned out OK for Ya.

Scott

Nice reporting Spot.  Did you ever feel in danger?  And how were you prepared to deal with it?

We need to get you a helmet cam.   

-Allen

Wow! one,,two, CRACK! That'll sure tighten your sphincter. Glad it all worked out and with dinner to boot!

 Daily lightning storms are the thing Florida has that balances out the convenience of not having to think about immersion wear and I can't seem to find a breathable lightning suit.

It's what scares me most fishing down here as there is essentially nothing to do about it other than get off (or be off) the water. In fact the prescribed procedure for this time of year is to be in by 1:00 pm and go out again after 7:00 pm after you check the radar forecast.

Man, that was epic. Glad to hear everything ended up OK.

Awesome write up.  great job on the coho!   have a feeling we will be seeing more coho on here as the summer progresses.  I am totally curious about the big bait balls.  I have never seen shrimp like that before, were they eatin size?

Did you ever feel in danger?  
-Allen

Did I ever feel in danger?!?!?  Did I ever feel in Danger?!?!?

Even without the threat of electrocution, this trip scared the crap out of me.  While I had no intention of it being any more than a long day of paddling/fishing, I knew all the "standard" risks and planned my approach accordingly.

I'll try to put a list of risk mitigation strategies I used later.

I am totally curious about the big bait balls.  I have never seen shrimp like that before, were they eatin size?

I don't know what kind of shrimp these were but I snagged a couple in the cloudy water around the jetty.  They were definitely eating size with thick tails.  They were dirty grey in color with spots on their backs and as I recall, their antenae were fairly short.  They seemed much firmer than sandshrimp and not nearly as pretty as pinks.
I kinda wish I'd taken pictures of those and the different baitfish I snagged.

Great story Spot! You deserve your AOTY ranking after an adventure like that. I'll bet that salmon tasted pretty good!