"Fish on!"
Those two magic words immediately change the tempo aboard a fishing boat.
All wisecracking and kibitzing cease and everyone's attention turns to the fishing pole arching over against the weight of a fish tugging the line taut. As the lucky angler reels and reels, anticipation builds until the first flash of a fish disturbs the still surface of the water. If all goes well, someone will thrust out a net, capture the crafty creature and bring it aboard.
While the fishing experience is universal — at least, anywhere there is water with fish in it — we have a unique variety here around Puget Sound. Seattle is the birthplace of mooching, a technique for catching salmon that imitates the natural movement of herring. First pioneered by Japanese American immigrants fishing on Elliott Bay in the 1920s, mooching has since spread up and down the West Coast, though the origins of the term may be apocryphal — allegedly, other fishermen "mooched" used bait off their successful peers.
Not sure how to mooch, much less where to borrow a fishing boat? Charters are big business around the Sound. For novice salmon anglers, a fishing charter is the best way to get a taste of one of the region's signature outdoor pursuits.
Herring is salmon's favorite food, so the goal of mooching is simple: "We're trying to make ours look tastier than the rest," says Justin Wong, owner of Cut Plug Charter, which operates salmon fishing charters from Shilshole Bay Marina.
The name of Wong's company is a reference to cut plug bait, in which the head of a fish is chopped off at an angle and a bevel, then the fishing line is threaded through the body. When baited properly, a cut plug herring will corkscrew through the water similar to a live herring. No casting is required to mooch — just drop 10-to-30-pound test line, rigged up on an 8.5-to-9.5-foot moderate action rod, to the desired depth, then reel the line back in.
Lather, rinse and repeat until you catch a fish.
During the summer salmon season, Wong runs three boats on both morning and afternoon charters ($275 per person plus tax and tip for six hours).
On a charter, the captain doubles as guide. Not only will he or she pilot a boat around Puget Sound while keeping a close eye on a fish finder radar that helps locate schools of herring and salmon, the captain will bait your hook, explain how to use the rod, tell you what depth to drop your bait, and untangle your spool when inevitably the line gets tangled.
Wong likes mooching because, he says, "it's easy to pick up for all skill levels but it's also interesting for all skill levels." There is a gentle learning curve to get the basic motion, but plenty of room to refine one's technique with faster and slower reeling.
When you do get a strike, the captain will coach you (mostly by encouraging you to reel as fast as you can) and stand at the ready with a net once your fish comes close enough. If you catch a keeper — two per person per day, minimum 22 inches for chinook — then the captain will also clean and fillet the fish for you back at the marina.
If everyone catches their limit, the boat comes back early — no catch-and-release just for fun, as getting hooked can be traumatic enough to kill a salmon even if it swims away.
"Salmon fishing is heavily regulated and we want to make sure we have the resources for years to come," said Wong, a 28-year-old Seattle native who has been guiding for eight years. He's been salmon fishing as long as he can remember.
For state residents age 16-69, a saltwater fishing license from the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife costs $11.35 per day or $30.05 for the season. All salmon must be reported on your catch record card. See wdfw.wa.gov/licenses/fishing for more details.
Among chinook, the most prized catch, Wong estimates he and his clients catch four hatchery fish to every one wild salmon. Dwindling wild salmon stocks are a hot-button issue in the fishing world, but hatchery proponents argue that these investments help sustain tribal, commercial and sport fishing. This September is anticipated to be a bumper coho run, which will improve the odds for landing your first salmon.
A morning charter is not the day to hit the snooze button. Puget Sound salmon fishing is about catching your prey when they are feeding, which is a function of the tides, not the time of day.
The incoming tide left early on the morning of my August charter, so the start time was 5:30 a.m. As the city slept under predawn quiet, the fishing community was a hive of activity at Shilshole Bay Marina and the adjacent public boat ramp, all engaged in a race for the water. Solo fishermen in pedal kayaks worked the near shore, while our boat zipped to a spot near Kingston to join a small flotilla.
As the sun rose, it lit up morning alpenglow on Mount Baker, Mount Rainier and the Olympics. The tallest skyscrapers of the Seattle skyline peeked above Magnolia, while ferries plied the glassy water. It was like living in a Puget Sound postcard.
While I gawked at the scenery, Wong was busy prying spiny dogfish head sharks loose from our hooks — these bottom feeders are a common irritant while salmon fishing.
The Kingston spot proved less than promising, so we repositioned every 20 minutes or so in a slow drift back toward Ballard. Along the way, I caught a 7-pound chinook and a 4-pound coho on my first ever salmon fishing outing.
I coated the latter in Tom Douglas salmon rub then grilled the fillets on a sake-soaked cedar plank. There was some fisherman's bias baked into my taste buds that night, but it was undoubtedly the most delicious salmon I've ever eaten.
