Secret Spots and why the Quinault is my Perfect River

Recently I received an email from a man I consider a role model. He cautioned me that I should be careful of giving away my spots on this blog, he was referring to steelhead spots. I do sympathize with him. He fishes the Hoh and Qillayute systems frequently and the winter crowds there make me sympathize with european management practices. I’ve never been a “secret spot” guy. I’m not a name dropper by any means, and my father would probably beat me to inch of my life if he ever read specific directions to one of our runs on this blog, but if someone I judge to be an honest fisherman, loose lips or tight, asks for fishing advice, I give it freely. 

My mentality has always been that here in the Quinault system, a little more angling interest will only increase awareness of the management needs of the watershed. When I stop using the word “interest” and start saying “pressure” that mentality will probably change. I doubt that will ever happen on the Quinault system. 

Most of the rivers we consider crowded earn that denotation by the number of drift boats that float it’s waters. Aside from a few tribal sleds below the lake, the Quinault only has 14 miles of drift boat water, and that 14 miles culminates in a mile long row across windy Lake Quinault at the end of the day. This discourages a lot of people, especially with rivers like the Queets and Humptulips nearby and much more accommodating. That’s not to say it doesn’t get crowded in the winter. It does, and gets equally stuffy during the fall silver run. However, there are many good spots on the river that boats have no access to. You have to have a hikers mentality or know people to get good bank access on much of the Quinault. This suits me as the good lord has blessed me with both of these things in abundance. 

Even if a hundred summer steelheaders from Olympia and Forks read this and think they ought to give my home river a try, I doubt I would feel crowded. The majority of my favorite summer spots aren’t what the average joe would call “fly water” and even the good fly water is fairly secluded. The reason I’m able to fish the Quinault everyday, without the hassle of friendly company is because I and my entire family live here. On the upper river, most people are limited to drifting the 14 miles below the bridge from a boat due to the river running mostly through private property. Lucky for me my best friend's parents own the best access, and I know everyone who owns property along the river on a first name basis. On the lake, it’s a half mile from the closest public launch to my favorite spot, but my uncle owns property within sprinting distance of it. Even on the lower river, where most are required to pay for a tribal guide, I have a slew of native friends, relatives, and acquaintances that vouch for me whenever I feel like deciphering the tribal water. The Quinault is my perfect home river, because it is so bounded up in bureaucracy that it’s best water hides in plain sight. 

All that being said, if you really want to spend the time deciphering this river and want the access I have, I always need an extra fishing buddy or five. The Quinault’s salmon and steelhead are an enormous resource, and by the way things are going lately, I would say they could use an extra fishing buddy too. 

Reading back through this I realize that this is an incredibly uninformative and unhelpful post. I’m not trying to discourage fishing the Quinault, but I have been fishing it for the last 10 years and I have yet to come across any other fly fisherman while fishing, and only one gear fisherman who wasn’t pursuing winter steelhead or Silvers. I wish I had so much confidence in this blog to think that I could change that fact, but I simply do not.