Trolling Heron Lake

By STORY AND PHOTOS BY CRAIG SPRINGER

Guide Don Wolfley steers a small group to the place where the kokanee bite

Heron: Kokanee salmon brought to state in 1963

There is no better light than that which comes angular. The glory of the morning is the sun’s radiance, moving and ever-changing.

It’s 7 a.m. and the radiant light is in play and shadows are long. I’m aft in a large pontoon boat on Heron Lake near Chama. Light winds fetch up little silver waves. I’m baiting shoepeg corn bathed in anise oil on a Double Whammy lure. It’s an interesting concoction that smells like a mixture of quesadillas and biscochitos. It’s a pleasant smell, but it doesn’t necessarily make me hungry.

Fishing guide Don Wolfley is at the wheel, steering his boat to deep water where he knows the fish are waiting. He steers toward an island The sound of water in the live-well tinkles in a coarse drip; a four-stroke outboard is at a smooth low hum.

My boy, Carson, is forward, leaning on the rail. He’s taking in his first boat ride on a lake that hasn’t involved a paddle. His chatter is the verbal expression of his young mind at sail. He doesn’t miss the finest of details, asking why there are bubbles on the water. Why does it get breezy when the sun rises? Why is the water green?

The green water is why I am here. Heron Lake is rich in plankton – - microscopic plants and animals that give the water its green murk. And in that murk below are kokanee salmon, and it’s murk they eat.

A moving landscape frames Heron Lake. This morning, the purplish San Juan Mountains stand in solemnity in one corner. Shadows and yellow rays play on the 11,000-foot mountaintops, revealing their personalities.

Brazos Cliffs are tall, firm, stoic. Nearer to us, the dry stratified flat-top mesas hover close to shore, unassuming. At the bottom is 6,000 acres of Heron Lake’s green water.

This where Don Wolfley spends about five days a week. Since about 1997, he’s been fishing and guiding others, putting them on kokanee salmon, lake trout and rainbow trout.

He has a short commute these days. His home is on the finger of land behind the old landmark Stone House Lodge — built for the fraternal Elks Lodge by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s — between Heron and El Vado Lake. Today, the lodge serves as a temporary home for campers and sailors and birders and anglers seeking kokanee.

At first blush, it seems odd to find kokanee salmon in New Mexico. Thoughts of salmon wander to large fish leaping over rapids, past hungry grizzly bears, in a desperate attempt to return to their natal spawning grounds.

Kokanee salmon were introduced in New Mexico in 1963 for the express purpose of providing more fishing opportunities. Heron Lake is well suited for them.

The kokanee salmon is a landlocked form of the sockeye salmon. They are the same species, just two different forms. It’s the same as the differences with rainbow trout and steelhead; one goes to sea for part of its life (the steelhead), the other does not. Kokanee salmon (and sockeye) are native to the inland Pacific Coast drainages from Idaho and Washington and northward, rimming around to Japan. Kokanee salmon also have been found in the cold, deep waters of Eagle Nest, Navajo and Abiqui lakes.

Wolfley steers his boat over deep waters, and we course slow, trolling with down-riggers to get the bait deep — but only

30 feet deep where the fish were showing themselves on a fish finder. We troll slowly, and at depth; a flashy lure wobbles drawing attention to itself from the light above.

Wolfley has fished around the country, but mostly in New Mexico. He came to the state some years ago to earn his Ph.D. at The University of New Mexico. He retired from Albuquerque Public Schools, but while still working full time, he guided part time. That part-time endeavor is now a full-time vocation.

The mixture that reminds me of tortillas and cookies near flashy pink and yellow steel proves its worth. A bending rod shivers and shudders under the pull of a fish. Carson hollers “fish on, fish on, fish on!”

The taut tug and lunge at 30 feet is transmuted to his forearm. In moments, the sun radiates silvery from the flanks of a fine fish. This 18-inch kokanee is white on the bottom so predators from below can’t see it. It’s olive-green and speckled from above so predators can’t sink their talons into it.

I’m not one to keep score, necessarily. But since we kept all the fish we caught to eat, we fished until we creeled 15 kokanee and had released a 30-inch lake trout.

I can’t tell you why I think this way, but in my mind it seems counter-intuitive that an animal that eats microscopic things grows fat. Whale sharks do it; they top out at 40 feet long eating things that won’t cover the head of a pin. So do kokanee salmon, converting the green murk of chlorophyll to fat orange filets for the grill.

Fishing pressure is light on Heron Lake. One does best from a boat, rather than from shore. Heron is a sailing and fishing lake. You won’t find party boats or jet skiers. Stone House Lodge had boats for rent; call 505-588-7274 or visit stonehouselodge.com. Wolfley can be reached at 505-588-9653. For a complete listing of area services, see chamavalley.com.

(c) 2007 The Santa Fe New Mexican. Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning. All rights Reserved.