Northwest Sportsman – August 2019

58 Northwest Sportsman AUGUST 2019 | nwsportsmanmag.com

COLUMN

on the temperature/dew point spread.

If there is a nearby airport with weather

reporting information, it is easy to get an

idea of when the fog is about to break

up. For the Buoy 10 fishery, data from

the Astoria airport is a valuable tool for

figuring that out.

At first light, I check the weather at

the regional landing strip. It indicates

that the fog is thick this morning, with

visibility of less than an eighth of a mile.

The temperature is 13 degrees Celsius (55

degrees Fahrenheit) and the dew point is

the same. I reset the alarm for two hours

later and go back to sleep.

Checking the weather again, the

temperature is still 13 degrees but the dew

point is now 12, though visibility is still

an eighth of a mile. I keep checking the

“minute weather” for the airport (it updates

every minute) until the temperature/dew

point spread finally increases to 2 degrees

Celsius. Even though the fog is still thick,

I start driving towards Fort Stevens. With

the temperature now 14 degrees and the

dew point reading 12 degrees, it won’t be

long before the fog and visibility clear up

enough to see and be seen on the water.

The dew point tells us how saturated

the air is with moisture. When it equals

the ambient temperature, fog will be

present. When the spread increases by 2

degrees Celsius, or 5 degrees Fahrenheit,

fog will dissipate as ambient air temps

continue to warm.

Even though fog is still present,

visibility has increased to a quarter of a

mile. I launch into the fog with confidence

that it will soon be clear.

AFTER MY SCOLDING, the visibility does

quickly increase to a mile and the fog lifts

to a 300-foot ceiling of broken clouds. After

missing the first-light tide change, I hop on

the incoming conveyer belt at Buoy 20.

But the hunt for a Chinook between Buoy

22 and 20 off Trestle Bay does not go well,

and I don’t see any of the many boats that

surround me having any luck either.

I switch out my gear to target coho. I

trade out a 16-ounce cannonball sinker for

a size 001 Luhr Jensen Deep Six diver. Bait

is scarce in the river today, so I remove the

flasher and herring and switch to a red and

white spinner behind the diver.

The broken layer of clouds has now

dissipated as I troll with the incoming tide

along the green can line. By noon the sun

predominates, with the exception of a

mix of a few low-level cumulus and some

scattered wispy cirrus clouds high above. I

have not touched a fish and the incoming

current has picked up, pushing me further

upriver and well east of the Skippanon.

With clearer skies it is only a matter of

time before the afternoon winds will start

to pick up. The wind waves can get really

large in front of Youngs Bay, so I decide to

change course and troll into the current. It

takes an hour of hard paddling to get clear

of the area where large rollers will soon

be forming. I see glistening ripples in the

distance up ahead by Buoy 29. As I make

my way to it, debris mixed with grass mark

a rip current that has formed.

I quickly reel in my gear and cross over

the debris to its north side and then feed

out 25 feet of line. The drag is set as loose

as possible and the diver is adjusted to

trip at the slightest bump. Paddling into

the current I make little forward progress,

prolonging my presentation at the seam

of this rip.

IT’S NOT LONG before line starts peeling

off my reel. The expected rise of the line

is followed be an acrobatic show from a

well-fed late August coho. After promptly

landing and securing the fish and then

filling out the paperwork, I propel my

plastic vessel full steam ahead to stay clear

of the sea grass assembling parallel to the

rip zone. Again my reel’s drag is loosely set.

Line slips off with every paddle stroke as

I try to make headway into the opposing

current and wind. A second thick hatchery

coho attacks my spinner.

Coho are the trickster of the salmon

world with their ability to pull off twirling

headshakes while peeling out line, a tactic

that has left many anglers frustrated with

their disappearing act. I am spared from

the magic show. I cautiously play the fish,

waiting for my opening. The net is thrust

forward and my second dinner guest is

now safely tangled in the webbing.

With my limit secured, 20-mile-per-

hour westerlies and 2- to 4-foot wind

waves confront me as I prepare to head in.

I hastily stow my gear and start paddling.

The afternoon breeze more than doubles

the time it takes me to cover the 2 miles

back to the launch area, but with two coho

packed in a kill bag, it is worth it. NS

No doubt about it, with weather pushing in right off the ocean, heavy boat traffic and big tidal swings and currents, the big river’s

estuary can be hairy to fish out of a kayak, but a little knowledge about how fog burns off made it a safer one for Brenneman that day.

(ANDY WALGAMOTT)

http://www.portofgaribaldi.org | 503-322-3292

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