How The Jig Is Up For One Alaska Salmon Slammer

The following appears in the May issue of Alaska Sporting Journal:

BY BRIAN KELLY

“Learn to fish with a jig, Sonny, and you’ll catch fish no matter where you are!”

That pearl of wisdom came from one of my mentors, the late Captain Dan Chimelak. I worked as a mate for “Captain Dan” on his charter boat around the Great Lakes, and he loved to jig up anything that swam. He would often comment that “jigging” is a thinking man’s game – that you need to develop a feel and sense for the right action that you, the angler, impart;it’sallonyoutofigureitout. No truer words have been spoken!

While the mighty captain was focused on warmwater species when teaching his young first mate about jigs, the same rules would apply when said mate ventured out on his own in search of those crazy silver-sided fish he had been hearing so much about.

JIG VERSATILITY

When I started my salmonid journey back in the early 1990s in the Great Lakes region, jigs weren’t much of a tackle consideration for any members of the Oncorhynchus family. River fishing was still a bottom-bouncing game, as float fishing was still just a huge underground movement happening across the border in Canada.

But as the shift to float gear took hold south of the border, jigs started to show up underneath floats. Small jigs carrying live bait were found to be super effective, as they kept the bait down in the strike zone while adding color to the presentation. Meanwhile, out West, a jig and float revolution was also taking place. Instead of a means to present bait, an unbaited marabou jig itself was the target, and it proved irresistible to ocean-bright steelhead.

I witnessed this on Vancouver Island in the late ’90s, when steelhead fresh from the ocean found this presentation irresistible. As we moved into the 2000s, crafty anglers in both the Great Lakes and Pacific Northwest were using this same approach on staging coho and kings that were making their spawning runs back to their native streams. Eventually, the float was removed and anglers began to realize that a “twitched” jig was pretty darned effective as well, and a star was born.

FRESHWATER FOCUS

Twitching jigs for salmon and steelhead that are migrating upstream has become all the rage. All the TV honks have been singing the praises of this technique for a few years now, although their ploy is to sell jigs for their sponsors rather than teach anglers how to properly fish a jig.

The most common mistakes I see novice anglers make when learning to twitch are not matching the proper jig to the water conditions and using too wild of a jigging motion or cadence.

First, let’s start with the right jig for the conditions you are facing, since matching the presentation is the first step on the road to success. Normal water conditions – think 2 to 3 feet of visibility – are great for your standard, off-the-shelf color combos like pink and white or pink and purple, or anything with pink in the color scheme. It is tough to beat a pink jig when the water is running that lovely greenish hue with the right amount of stain to keep the fish from being overly wary.

As far as jig size in these water conditions, that will depend on the size of the watershed you are fishing. A 1?4-ounce jig will do the trick on most small- to medium-sized rivers, but bump up to a 3?8-ounce model for larger water and deeper holes.

Low- and clear-water conditions require some stealth tactics; neutral colors like black, purple or even olive will do the trick when the fish ignore the loud, gaudy colors. Smaller profiles with less hair on the jig are the way to go, as is stepping down a jig size to 1?8 ounce. It’s all about quiet entry and subtle presentations when the going gets tough. The same goes for the rest of your terminal tackle; go with lighter line or leaders when a lack of rain has your favorite stream low and clear.

The worst conditions of all, dreaded high and dirty water, isn’t the end of the world for a jig bite. Break out the big and bright color combos, which just happen to be what most commercially tied twitching jigs seem to be on the store shelves these days.

Since the fish tend to hug the banks in these conditions, find an area with a nice current break – usually a log pinned into the bank – and get the jig down and in their face. Heavier is better in high water, and this is when the 1?2- or 3?4-ounce models get the job done.

Work that piece of water over after you find a grabby fish. Even as salmon are compelled to move upstream in high water, they tend to pile up in areas with a nice current break out of the heavy flows rushing down the main river channel.

ALL ABOUT THE CADENCE

As I said earlier, a wild jigging motion is a big mistake newbie jig anglers often make. No need to snap the jig like you would fishing for halibut or rockfish. While there are times none of the salmon species will react to a big hopping motion, finding the proper cadence is key to long-term jigging success.

The beauty of the jig, no matter whether you’re targeting salmon in freshwater or the open ocean, is that the fish will follow the lure even if they don’t hit it. This means you have their interest but the action isn’t just right. This is why to always wear your polarized sunglasses; as you fish that jig all the way back to shore or the boat, watch for the reaction of the fish.

My go-to cadence to start out is usually a faster retrieve with short twitches; I call this “the fish finder.” The most active fish in the school will react to this retrieve and either smash it or chase it. Once I know I have salmon around me, I will change up my retrieve cadence to match the mood of that particular group of fish, whether they want it slow or fast, or with long or short pauses. This is the biggest key to overall jig success: having the mental acuity to recognize that it’s time to change up the speed and aggression of your retrieve. If your bite window dies, a simple change to your cadence is the key to continued success.

A prime example of this occurred while chasing Kenai Peninsula coho with my friend and mentor Jim Stepulkoski. We had plenty of fish around and were getting the bite dialed in pretty good … until we ran into a pod of fresh fish that was boiling and chasing our jigs but just not committing.

Jim decided to play with the retrieve, letting the jig sit on the bottom for what seemed like an eternity, then giving it a couple twitches. Weird, but that’s what got the coho to commit. We watched them flare their gill plates and suck in the jig, just like a bass with a rubber worm.

TYING YOUR OWN TWITCHING JIGS

While there are plenty of commercially tied jig options available, there is a feeling of great satisfaction that comes with catching fish on your own patterns, much like tying flies. The assortment of materials available is immense, especially the synthetic varieties used by the spey folks.

Our group started off tying jig versions of the classic saltwater fly, the Dolly Llama, as a changeup from the monotony of casting spinners all day. This shift in thinking not only saved our aging and aching shoulders but allowed us to fine-tune patterns and colors to match the water conditions and the fishes’ ever-changing moods.

I swear I can hear old Captain Dan cackle when I land a feisty silver on a homemade jig.

“Nice work, Sonny. I told you!” ASJ