I did a search and found a bunch of previous threads on the Quilcene, but I got lazy after coming up empty on the first few while searching for an ideal topic to add this post to, so I decided to create a new topic. Sorry if everyone's sick of hearing the same old stuff about the Quilcene, but here goes....

WARNING: If you don't like reading long posts, bail out now.

I was sitting in the office last Tuesday. I looked outside (as I sometimes do to remind myself of all the things I would rather be doing than working), and it was raining. On the one hand, this was a bit of a downer... summer never seems to last long enough. On the other hand, we all know that the first rains of the fall often bring the first reasonable numbers of coho for the season into the rivers (and stirs up the stuff that was already there), so there was some positive thought happening as well. I decided to see what I might be messing up by taking Wednesday off to give it a go, and much to my surprise, for the first time in I don't know how long, the calendar was OPEN. At that point, it was a done deal. I was taking Wednesday off.

After some deliberation, I decided to head for the mouth of the Quilcene. We all know about the horrific scene observed when one tries to fish the river proper, so that was never an option. In years past, I have had at least some success fishing the estuary, and fishing out there is generally very pleasurable, with only a few other ethical anglers around. The fish aren't always snappy, but every once in a while, a big, fresh coho comes to play. I got there about an hour before the high slack, and the parking area was pretty full. I figured this to be a good sign, as it meant there would be fish around. I started the walk down to the estuary. When I reached the river, I saw a few people walking out with limits of four bright fish. This also seemed to be a good sign.

When I got near the mouth, I noticed that everybody was sitting around on the river bank, and nobody was fishing in the estuary. There was one guy at the mouth with a fly rod, and he told me everyone was waiting for the next push of fish to enter the river. I told him I planned to fish around the estuary for cruisers until the next push came in. He cautioned me to the effect that the bank fishers had been hassling people trying to fish the estuary, saying that by being in the estuary, people were spooking the migrating fish, thereby keeping them from entering the river. I told him I had heard that line of BS before and that it was nothing new for me when fishing there to get hassled, sometimes just because I was fly fishing. I had accepted that as part of the fishery, and I had never been involved in any serious confrontations over it, so I waded out and started fishing.

I fished through the high slack without incident (and also without any action from anything other than a few big sculpins). As the tide started going out, I positioned myself where I could cast to the edge of the channel through which the migrating fish generally enter the river and resumed casting. Note that there were no signs of fish moving (you know, those cool wakes that start to appear around the moving pods) in the area at this time. After about 15 minutes, I saw two guys (what cowards - making sure I knew I was outnumbered) walking out toward me. I figured they were coming to serve me notice that I was blocking the fish, and I was right.

These guys (claiming to be speaking on behalf of everybody waiting on the river bank) explained to me (reasonably politely at first) that the last time someone was fishing where I was, the fish kept seeing him and spooking back out into the bay, and that as soon as he moved, the fish started coming up the river. I calmly told them that I had heard that theory before and had personally witnessed it being disproved time and time again. I have fished several estuaries for salmon, and in all cases, when the fish decide to start coming up the river has been determined by the stage of the tide, not by how many anglers are present in the estuary. I cited Hoodsport as an example of this pattern, and one to which I assumed these snaggers would be able to relate (what accomplished snagger hasn't fished Hoodsport?). I also pointed out that there were no signs of fish in the area, and I offered to move at the first indication that I might be spooking any fish that did move in.

That response didn't seem to satisfy these goons, and one of them decided to raise his voice and tell me I was wrong and needed to move. Recognizing that I was in no position to defend myself against 20 people, I told them I would humor them and move, but I told them I would eat my hat if the fish started moving in immediately after I did so. More likely, I told them, the fish would start to come up an hour or so into the outgoing tide. I moved over to the open side of the bay. After a few minutes, I started seeing small pods of fish moving in and out of the estuary. I cast to them each time they came within range. I didn't get any of them to bite (only a couple of brief follows), but I also didn't cause any of them to spook, which would seem to validate my theory that my presence and the presence of my fly in their path would not affect their movements.

About 30-45 minutes after that, the fish I had been working started to move around the corner and take up station near the mouth. I knew this meant at least some of them were about to start moving upstream, and because I no longer had interest in pursuing them in that area (my well-being seemed more important), I broke down my rod and started the walk out.

On my way past the line of "anglers" fishing the river (a period of about two minutes), I witnessed no less than four fish being hooked in places nowhere near the mouth and then retained. I also had to dodge an ounce of pencil lead as one of the particularly passionate "anglers" came up empty on a hookset that would have made a bona fide Bassmaster blush. The gear of choice at this locale was about an ounce of lead, with a 3-4 foot leader attached to a 1/2 ounce jig. This seemed excessive to me for the 6-12 inches of water they were fishing, in a space only about 10 feet across. They were clearly in the know, however, so I didn't question them. There were a few people at the head of a riffle fishing with dip nets. They appeared to be natives, so I assumed that was their right.

On the way back to the truck, I talked to a couple of teenagers who weren't fishing. I asked them (jokingly) why they weren't down there snagging up salmon. One kid said there weren't enough down there to make it worth his while, and the other told me he would rather use an electric shock device. Imagine my pleasure at learning the level of ethics being instilled in the next generation.

The last guy I spoke to on the way out noticed I wasn't carrying any fish and asked me why. I told him the snagging looked great, but the fishing wasn't so hot for me. He suggested I tie on a plastic bead and put some split shot on my leader; he had seen another "fly fisherman" doing pretty good with that setup the day before. Ugh....

When I got home, I wrote an e-mail to the DFW, via the report poaching link, describing what I had witnessed and how I had been threatened. I threw in a reference to the fact that I had been hearing good things about the effects increased enforcement was having on the Skok, and I gently suggested that they beef up the enforcement on the Quilcene.

I received what seemed like a sincere reply from the sergeant in charge of enforcement on the Quilcene. He expressed regret over the experience I had. He explained that the tribes have a right to fish any way they want to. He cited the Stevens Treaty and the Boldt Decision as the grounds. He also said that they have trouble distinguishing natives from non-natives, as there are some who even have blonde hair and blue eyes. The fact that even non-natives who are married into a tribe or otherwise related can also legally fish according to tribal rules further complicates the situation, he explained. [I will interject here that I believe the local (non-tribal) snaggers have learned that as long as they fish among the natives, they will not be questioned - just because they are unethical doesn't necessarily mean they are stupid.]

He also gave me a bit of historical perspective on how the situation has gotten worse in recent years. There has always been snagging on the river, but until recently, it was by non-natives, and therefore the Department had no difficulty identifying and prosecuting the illegal practice. Apparently, 2008 was the first season when the Point No Point tribes authorized a commercial tribal fishery on the river proper, including the estuary. Up until then, the only fishery the tribes conducted on the Quilcene was a brief sustinence fishery near the hatchery weir. This explains why there are now people dip netting and snagging (legally) at the mouth. He said he was all too aware of the increasing tensions between natives and non-natives over the changes in the fishery. He said the Department called a meeting of the tribes and the Department to discuss changes to the fisheries to ensure equal opportunity for all user groups. The Skokomish Tribe refused to attend the meeting, and the other tribes indicated that they would not be making any changes. Apparently, the only authority that can force the tribes to cooperate in discussions is the NMFS (and we all have a sense of how responsive they are to sport fishing concerns).

The sergeant's tone was that of a beaten man, speaking on behalf of a beaten state agency. When I responded, I thanked him for taking the time to provide a thoughtful response to my rant. Despite my estimation that only a small percentage of the people snagging on the river that day were natives, I couldn't really argue with the points he made. Had he been short or generic in his response, my attitude might have been different, but I was satisfied that he meant well. I expressed that the only point I made in my rant that I think is still completely valid is that my rights as a paying licensee to fish those waters were violated when the snaggers, natives or not, threatened me to get me to move. I also told him that I didn't see this as an issue of natives vs. non-natives. Personally, I have never been threatened by a native (to my knowledge), in any situation. Rather, I see it as the same, unethical people responsible for turning the Skok into a trash-ridden cesspool taking advantage of the new circumstances on the Quilcene to claim another fishery for the snaggers.

Essentially, I am upset less about the snagging going on down there (that fishery is almost entirely hatchery fish, so it seems to me that relatively little harm is being done to wild fish causes) than I am about the fact that nobody seems willing to protect the ability of ethical anglers to fish there (and fish the way that pleases them) in the future. To be clear, I realize that I still have a right to fish there, but I won't be back. Unfortunately, the outlaws are the law down there these days, and I haven't reached a level of desperation such that an opportunity to fish is more important than my personal safety.

Sorry for the sob story, but I needed to vent my frustrations over losing yet another quality opportunity to the undying bloodlust that drives people to snag salmon. I chose to post this on the fly fishing board because most of the people I saw fishing in the estuary in years past were fly fishers, so I figured it would interest them most.