Lake George
Looking a lot like the frenzied guy who scrambled to keep dinner plates spinning on a stick in an old vaudeville show, Don Van Skiver held a bent rod in one hand, grabbed for another and then looked about wildly as a third began bouncing in its holder.
“I hope that other pole doesn’t move,” Van Skiver said as he nervously eyed a fourth line tethered to a downrigger.
When the flurry subsided, two silvery fish splashed inside a wire basket; the third had made good its escape.
Make no mistake. The kokanee salmon bite had returned to Elevenmile Reservoir.
Quiet for several years because of conditions tied to drought and a shortage of stocked fish, the big impoundment in South Park that once produced the largest kokanee in the nation has its mojo back – or close to it.
Tuesday, with gulls squawking and darting through the crisp morning air, Van Skiver scarcely could wait to get his boat into position in that patch of water lake veterans call Kokanee Alley.
His high anxiety was easy to explain. After years in the doldrums, Elevenmile trolling enthusiasts this season can celebrate a return to the glory days – or at least close enough to meet a fisherman’s memory, always a moving target.
The principal reason, of course, is that the reservoir three years ago began receiving increased stocks of kokanee fry. The formula is simple enough: more salmon in the lake, more salmon on the line.
It’s a happy condition likely to continue into the foreseeable future, barring environmental calamity. The Division of Wildlife has established Elevenmile as one of its egg collection centers, which ensures it a spot near the head of the line in stocking priority.
This year, the Park County impoundment received 980,000 fry, third behind Blue Mesa and Granby in the fish-planting parade. But fish numbers alone don’t dictate kokanee success; technique rates at least equal billing.
Even as Van Skiver was hauling fish over the gunnel, nose to tail, most other boats couldn’t buy a bite. Van Skiver lives just a mile from the lake and over the years has developed a system that’s as close to infallible as fishing ever gets. We’ve described it before, but, with the revived kokanee interest, it bears repeating.
With a partner aboard, he arms his 17-year-old boat with four rods – two attached to downriggers, two on flat-line outriggers. The setup resembles a floating porcupine, but it works.
Rods are soft fiberglass to cushion the bite from soft-mouthed salmon and to ease the tension inherent in the heavy trolling rigs.
To each, he attaches a rainbow-colored flasher. He prefers a rainbow color from Luhr Jensen, the model with a larger blade out front. “That makes a bigger flash and gets more attention,” said Van Skiver, who gives lessons in the art (phone 719-748-1133).
A piece of nightcrawler on a hook 20 inches behind the flasher completes his basic package. The crawler catches kokanee and also provides the opportunity for an occasional large rainbow. He trims the worm down to a couple inches to thwart nibblers. “If a fish bites my worm, he’s got to pay for it.”
To one downrigger outfit, he attaches a Mack’s Kokanee Killer lure, each treble point baited with white shoepeg corn. It specifically targets salmon, and it gets results.
Downriggers allow him to target a specific depth, generally about 15 feet, where the most active fish are found. As the sun grows on calm, clear days, expect light-sensitive fish to sink several feet deeper. A wind chop keeps them shallow. Keep downriggers at different depths. Experiment.
Outriggers trail behind about 90 feet, depending on the bite. This puts the bait at 8 to 10 feet deep. “This time of year, most of the fish food is near the surface.”
Speed kills. Van Skiver runs his ancient 60-horse motor at the slowest possible speed, about .75 mph, and would like to go slower. Other boats zip by at twice the speed. “I tell them they’re water skiing. They don’t catch much, at least not when the water is cold.”
He finds most of his fish suspended over water no more than 30 feet deep. “You’ll never find me down toward the dam in deep water.”
Net result: In six hours of trolling, Van Skiver hooked perhaps 45 fish, boated 35 of them. The catch included a half-dozen rainbows, one a 4 1/2-pounder.
On two occasions, he had three kokanee hooked at once; doubles came several times more. And all the while, the plates kept on spinning.
Staff writer Charlie Meyers can be reached at 303-820-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com.
