Lake Quinault

There isn’t a whole lot of open water in my area right now. All the rivers and creeks are closed still and that is the primary show here in Quinault. Of the few places that are open, Lake Quinault is definitely the premier fishery. This glacially carved lake, the largest in Grays Harbor, plays host to good populations of native charr and cutthroat trout. There are also murmurings of rainbow trout now and then, but I am pretty convinced these are just baby steelhead, and any rainbows over 20 inches have to be released. 

Historically Lake Quinault provided the rearing waters for what could have been the largest sockeye run in the lower 48. Indeed, so wide-spread was their fame that in New Zealand and other parts of the world Pacific Salmon in general bear the nickname “Quinaat.” The runs once totaled in the hundreds of thousands, and one look at the escapement charts on the 2002 WDFW Salmon and Steelhead Stock Inventory is enough to make any self respecting fisherman sick. Dropping from 57,000 fish in the 80’s to just 8,000 in 2000 is the sad legacy of an over exploited run of fish, but the WDFW still has them listed as “Healthy”. When viewed next to nearby stocks in Lake Pleasant, Lake Ozette, and the functionally extinct sockeye of Lake Sutherland, that designation is not surprising. The comfort that my home system’s sockeye are fairing better than their cousins is not enough to pacify me when my father regales me with stories of the mouth of the Lake turned red by the spawning salmon. 

The situation with the sockeye of Lake Quinault is a pretty unique one amongst collapsing races of anadromous fish. Usually there is a wide variety of factors that play into the demise of a run. In the typical northwest fish population, logging silts in the spawning streams, streamside development muddies the clear running mainstem, Tribal netting and recreational harvest deplete the runs, and the WDFW responds by filling the system with the scapegoats we know as hatcheries, which results in an increasingly hostile over-harvest from all parties. The Quinault system is quite a bit different. The Upper River is largely in the Olympic National Park and Forest and logging hasn’t occurred for quite sometime, and though the tribal land below the lake is logged early and often, Sockeye in the Quinault system only spawn in the upper mainstem and creeks that feed the river and lake. The only development on the river is a short 10 mile stretch on south shore road, and at Taholah near the river’s confluence with the Pacific. The lower river remains mysterious rainforest land, and the upper river is largely the wild, untamed river it has always been, given to changing its course each year, and not shy about taking a house or two with it. The Quinault National Fish Hatchery pumps the lower river with steelhead and coho salmon, but according to the SaSI stock report and to my best knowledge sockeye are not planted in the river. 

The main, and perhaps ONLY, problem with the Quinault run of Sockeye Salmon is over-harvest. This harvest is not at the hands of sport anglers, the upper river is closed and the Tribal fisheries personnel will confiscate your gear and boat if your caught with sockeye gear on the Lake. There is some poaching, but nothing so significant that it would reduce the run by 50,000. The problem with Lake Quinault’s sockeye run is tribal gill netting. I know that’s become somewhat politically incorrect to say, and in the vast majority of cases there are more prominent factors, but in this case the blame must rest solely on the commercial over-harvest of these fish. The Native Pride Cannery in Taholah has allowed more than a few Tribal Netters to wax fat on the salmon and steelhead of the Quinault. If we ever want to see the river run red again, the Quinault Indian Nation is going to have to start being more responsible with one of it’s most precious, and certainly most storied resources. 

I believe that if we are going to raise public awareness to a level that forces the Tribe to respect it’s resource, we need to get a lot more people fishing on this lake for other species. For now the lake remains a place of relative solitude. Even on opening day you would be lucky to count 20 boats, and those are spread out over the 3 mile length of the lake. On a normal day, your likely to have the lake all to yourself, and more than half of the shoreline remains undeveloped, a pristine rainforest valley spattered with the occasional collection of driftwood. Trolling in a rowboat on Lake Quinault for wild cutthroat and charr, on a cool early summer morning that I have all to myself, that’s one of my favorite ways to fish. 

The Lake opens for fishing on the last saturday in april, typical for Washington lakes. This time of year usually finds the lake high and cloudy, and it only gets worse as June waxes and May wanes, when the early summer sun frees the winter’s cache of snow via mountain streams. It would scarcely be worth an angler’s time to brave frosty spring morning for sluggish fish in 45 degree water, were it not for the fry migration. The aforementioned sockeye salmon provide anglers with an invaluable service each spring, the fry of these fish, usually 1 1/2 to 3 inches, begin their migration to sea, creating what is probably the only important “hatch” on this lake. Charr are the main target, as they are abundant this time of year and quite large, I recently took an 8-pounder on a fly and have seen 15 pounders caught on gear. The fry migration overlaps with their spawning period, and provides a rare chance for fly anglers to catch these deep swimming adfluvial fish. 

Sockeye being the plankton feeders they are, the best way to fish patterns imitating their young is in a boat with oars and a sinking line. Troll the structure and dropoffs in the morning, and the thermocline with heavier lines as the day awakens and the sun hits the water. After some experimentation I’ve narrowed it down to three basic flies that I fish. The Supervisor, and ol maine fly trolled for landlocked salmon that is tied to imitate a rainbow smelt. An olive hued version of the great Roderick Haig-Brown's Silver Brown, and my own creation, which a simple fly tied with white hackle tip wings, a peacock throat, a silver tinsel body, a throat of buck tail, and a topping of olive marabou. I sometimes add a tag of red floss and use the tagged flies if the water is cloudy. 

As the fry leave the system and the water level drops, Lake Quinault changes it’s personality. The big char return to deep waters as their spawning ire dies and the water warms, and the trout stop targeting fry and become opportunistic feeders. I like to wade for fish this time of year, mostly on the the south side of the lake and the outlet. I fish Irish soft hackles in the waves at the rainforest resort and swim flashback pheasant tails off of creek mouths. My largest cutthroat to date on a fly, a fine fish of 17 inches, came to me on a muddler minnow fished damp amongst the pilings at the outlet, a part of the lake where sculpins are abundant. This is a time of shorts and t-shirts, when you main competition for angling water will be with children interested in swimming, when an angler can fish from sunrise to sunset and catch fish all through the day. The lake doesn’t give up as many fish this time of year as it does in spring and fall, but with the sun high and the water low, not one fish comes from a place of frustration. 

My favorite time of year to fish the lake is undoubtedly in fall. This season marks many things for the Pacific Northwest, and not the least among them is the return of the always celebrated sea-run cutthroat trout. The lake is always at it’s lowest point, and I almost always fish it from the shores this time of year. An intermediate line is all that’s needed, and a few classic patterns like the Spruce or the SIlver Brown, will get you by. The outlet is once again a favorite place, and the pilings proved some of the hottest action. I expect to catch 5 or more fish each trip this time of year. Unfortunately so do other anglers, and the 7 fish limit the tribe has set on the lake has resulted in a pretty sever fish kill the last few years. 

The point is, this lake is an incredible fishery, and probably the last large lake in Grays Harbor that still turns out fish without the help of hatchery plants. This is place that I don’t want to tell people about, but a place that needs more interest from anglers.