ROGUE HOGS.

Byline: Mike Stahlberg The Register-Guard

GOLD BEACH - Fishing may not be an Olympic sport, but salmon anglers on the lower Rogue River covet gold, silver and bronze nonetheless.

Only here they're not after medals, but "buttons" symbolic of victory in battle against really big fish, not to mention sea lions and other anglers' gear (more about that later).

For more than a half a century, Jot's Resort has been issuing pins to any angler who catches a salmon weighing more than 30 pounds - as indicated by the certified scale just outside the back door of Jot's tackle shop.

Any fish weighing more than 50 pounds warrants a gold button. Forty pounds or more earns a silver button, and bronze buttons go to those who weigh in 30 pounders.

The pins are football-shaped, just like the deep-bellied chinook they represent.

On most rivers, such big salmon are referred to as "hogs." On the Rogue, they are simply "button fish."

And Jot's has been handing out buttons at a rapid clip this summer.

The log book lists 319 buttons issued through Aug. 1, according to manager Sam Waller, compared with about 230 at the same time last year. Among the 19 buttons issued Sunday was a gold pin presented to Hap Flynn of Gold Beach, whose 55-pound fish is the biggest caught so far this year.

"And fishing's not even red-hot yet," Waller said. "July is always spotty. August is a really big month, and September - our biggest fish often show up at the end of September. The ones that stay out in the ocean and feed can put on a third of their body weight in the last month ... they just go on a feeding frenzy."

This year, some of that feeding is occurring in the lower 1 1/2 miles of the Rogue River. Huge schools of anchovy have been carried into Rogue Bay on incoming tides. And hungry salmon have been following them.

Such was the case Sunday afternoon, when flurries of tiny anchovy jumping out of the water - probably in an effort to flee salmon feeding nearby - sounded like a rain squall pelting the surface of the river. The moving storms of splashes were loud enough to be heard above the putt-putt-putting of boat motors and the drone of traffic on the Highway 101 bridge.

And sometimes it seems that the boat traffic beneath the bridge is heavier than the vehicular traffic on it.

Upwards of 300 boats at a time have been counted on the bay, which is only about 150 yards wide and a mile and a half long. Car-topper aluminum boats, six-passenger jet sleds and craft of every description in between mingle in daily parades that peak just before high tide.

"It's a show within a show out here, I'll tell you," said Bruce Craviotto, one of the many fishing guides who work the lower Rogue. He and another guide, Ted Burdett of Fishin' Accomplished Guide Service, fished with a Register-Guard reporter/photographer Sunday afternoon and Monday.

Ten hours of trolling over two days produced plenty of show-and-tell moments and six salmon "hook-ups," including a bright hen that looked like it might be just big enough to earn Craviotto a bronze button. A trip to the Jot's Resort scale, however, proved it to be a couple pounds shy of the mark.

The other excitement included two salmon that got away, one that should have gotten away but didn't and one that was let go after an exciting 15-minute battle that included a half-dozen long runs.

The latter acted as wild as a bronco with no bit in its mouth - which, in essence, turned out to be the case. The fish was "foul-hooked," having bumped the back of its head into the treble hook on a trolled green and yellow spinner. Craviotto was eventually able to get the hook out of the fish's back and set it free.

The fish that should have gotten away, but didn't, attacked that same spinner a few yards above the bridge. While Craviotto was trying to maneuver the boat upstream, the fish made a run that carried it between two closely-spaced steel columns supporting a temporary work platform for bridge repair crews.

With the line wrapped three-quarters of the way around one of the steel columns, the fish was moments away from fraying the line apart and going free. But - with Burdett at the back of the boat shouting directions and Craviotto at the helm - the guides somehow were able to maneuver the boat in a way that allowed the fish to be extracted from between the pillars and, eventually, netted.

In the Rogue Bay, the excitement isn't necessarily limited to fish hooked by an angler on your boat.

With boats jockeying so close together, Craviotto said, anglers have to be wary of their lines being entangled by someone fighting a fish from a nearby boat.

"If that happens, we just cut the line," he said. "A lure is not worth causing someone to lose a fish."

A few hours later, Craviotto was doing just that after a big fish hooked by Roy Chandler of Salem made one last run just as Craviotto's boat passed by. Chandler's fish crossed the lines of three rods, and all three lines were cut.

But it was worth it. Chandler's fish weighed in at 37 pounds, good for a bronze button.

A little while later, an elderly couple in a small aluminum boat wasn't so lucky. After fighting an obviously big fish for 20 minutes or so, they suddenly found themselves being towed across the river - a sea lion had grabbed their salmon and was swimming off with it.

"They'll end up with just the fish's head, if anything," Craviotto said.

No wonder fishermen don't like seals and sea lions.

"Especially on a tough day like this," said Burdett. "You know, you fish all day long and just can't buy a bite, then you hook into a dandy like that - that was about a 40-pounder he had there - and a sea lion relieves you of the burden of cleaning it."

Such happenings are not uncommon, says Waller, the resort manager who also works as a guide.

"I've lost two to sea lions in the last three days I fished," he said. "We've got three or four of these big aggressive Steller sea lions, alpha males, that are not afraid of anything."

Waller said guides have reported sea lions yanking salmon - net and all - right out of their hands.

"They're not a very nice animal when they get aggressive like that," he said.

A more common, if less dangerous, source of frustration for Rogue Bay anglers is moss. The bay has been full of the stringy green stuff this summer, and it clings to sinkers, lures and hooks. As a result, the amount of time actually spent fishing effectively is significantly reduced.

But, moss and sea lions or not, the anglers keep coming to the Rogue Bay. And why not, as the lower Rogue is Oregon's most-productive fall chinook fishery, hands down.

According to Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife records, the average annual harvest on the Rogue during one recent three-year period was about 8,000 chinook.

The next best fishery was Tillamook Bay, at 4,900 per year.

And the Rogue has drawn international attention for the big fish it has produced in recent years - most notably the 71.5-pound fall chinook that set an all-time fly-fishing record when it was landed by Grant Martinsen of Grants Pass in October 2002.

Look for the lower Rogue to be most crowded on Aug. 21. That's when the 11th annual Rogue River Salmon Derby Round-Up will be held. Sponsored by the Curry Sport Fishing Association, the event features a boat show and a barbecue dinner and auction, plus a fishing derby with a grand prize of $1,000 for the biggest fish. Rods, reels and other fishing equipment will be awarded to first, second and third place finishers in the men's, women's and children's divisions.

Children, by the way, have won the grand prize in two of the past five years, which shows you that nobody knows when a button fish will strike.

"I've seen a 17-year-old who has never gone salmon fishing before come in here and catch a 57-pounder," Waller said. "And I've had some customers who fished for years and never got a button."

- Bruce Craviotto can be reached at [phone]; Ted Burdett at [phone] and Jot's Resort at [phone].

CAPTION(S):

Boats troll Rogue Bay in Gold Beach, which produces more fall chinook than any other Oregon coastal fishery. Most anglers troll spinners of various colors or combinations of spinners and anchovy or herring. Mike Stahlberg / The Register-Guard Fishing guide Bruce Craviotto hoists a 27-pound fall chinook, which he landed Monday near the Highway 101 bridge. Anglers (from left) Don Foght and Scott Brose each got bronze buttons, but Ray Brouette's fish (right) fell short. STEP biologist John Weber (center right) caught no fish.