September's rains have begun to wash the summer doldrums ...
from Great Lakes tributaries and raised water levels enough to send the first wave of chinook salmon slamming upstream on their fateful spawning run. By month's end, nearly every mature chinook still waiting off creek or river mouth will join the party.
When on the move, migrating chinooks 
are oblivious to anything but their mission. A wading angler gets jostled, bumped and showered when a fleet of these live torpedoes rips upstream through a riffle. The chance to tango with a 20-pound king on light tackle in close quarters can easily become addictive. Mercifully, it is short-lived.
By the end of October, their eyeless corpses will litter stream banks, and scavengers from gulls to coyotes will feast on their rotting flesh. For now, though, full of life, they forge onward against the current in response to that timeless urge that draws these denizens of the deep into the shallowest of trickles, tails flailing and stout, dark backs humping along toward their doom.
Chinooks run up nearly every stream that feeds Lakes Michigan and Superior. Some are crowded with anglers, others virtually unfished. On Lake Michigan, the Root River and Oak Creek are hit hard. The Milwaukee River offers more elbow room, especially if you avoid the dams at Estabrook and Kleztsch parks. The removal of a concrete drop structure and 1,400 feet of concrete on the Menomonee River has opened up 16 more miles of stream to migratory fish all the way to Menomonee Falls.
Heading north along the coast, the Sheboygan, Manitowoc, Kewaunee, Ahnapee and Oconto rivers all sustain good runs of kings.
On Lake Superior, Fish Creek, the Sioux and the Brule are the best-known salmon streams, but the Cranberry, the Flag and a short stretch of the Iron are also worth fishing.
[Side Bar: Timing the Run]
Chinooks are so big, you'll usually spot them in most streams and sight fishing is the rule. You can fish "blind" in deep holes and runs, but if they are full of fish you may foul-hook more than you catch legitimately. When resting en route or once they've reached their destination, chinooks often hold at the tail end of a pool, run or hole. Stationary fish spook easily if the water is low and clear, so approach them cautiously from downstream. Like steelhead, they may stubbornly refuse to hit a bait, or they may strike with abandon at the first thing that drifts past. Aggressive males that try to drive intruders out of spawning redds are the easiest fish to catch, but "easy" is a relative term here.
Most spinfishermen use meat or hardware – spawn, spoons and spinners. Some let wobbling plugs swing in the current in front of holding fish, a technique developed on West Coast salmon rivers. Berkley Power Nuggets, yarn and single eggs also take fish. Go with a sturdy seven- or eight-foot spinning rod, a reel with a smooth drag and a full spool of 10- or 12-pound test line.
For more fun, though, try a fly rod. You'll need at least a 9 1/2-foot rod in eight weight or heavier. Fish yarn, spawn and wobbling plugs on monofilament spooled on a multiplying reel (a Martin 72 is standard). To fish flies, you'll need a reel with a good drag and a palming spool. Choose a floating line and add as much 30-pound test backing as the reel will hold. "Lead links," lengths of lead-core line with a loop spliced into each end, get flies down to bottom and cast better than split shot or twist-ons. Add a saltwater tapered leader or six feet of 10-pound test leader material and tie on a fly.
Bright-colored attractor flies and egg patterns work well on aggressive fish, but later in the season, black, brown, silver or white patterns may be more effective. Woolly Buggers, leeches and traditional salmon flies all take chinooks.
Swing a fly, bait or lure repeatedly right in front of a holding fish until it takes. In dark water, you must present an offering within a few inches of a fish to get it to strike. In clear water, a salmon will sometimes come 10 feet across a pool to nail a bait or fly. Spawning salmon have stopped feeding, but they still strike out of instinct or aggression.
Fighting a chinook in a river is a hook-'em-and-hang-on proposition. One may take off downstream and strip your reel, the next may just charge around a deep hole like a little bull. Either way, you'll have your hands full. Hook and land five fresh kings in a morning and you'll be exhausted, but smiling.
To simplify casting and fighting fish, pare accessories to the bare minimum. One box of lures or flies should suffice. Hang a short-handled net with a deep bag out of the way in the middle of your back or land fish by tailing or beaching them on shore or a sandbar. Polarized sunglasses help spot fish in deep or murky water.
Brown and brook trout also spawn now in some streams, while later in October and November, cohos make their run. Some spring-spawning steelhead also come into the streams in fall and winter. All these species will hit the same offerings, providing a parade of great salmonid fishing that can last all winter if the weather stays mild.
None of these fish can match the brute strength of a fresh-run chinook, though, whose brief inland journey coincides with the peak of this perfect season. The kaleidoscope of red and gold against a sky so blue it hurts to look at it, the bite of brisk autumn air and the surge of a fish the size of a half-grown Labrador retriever make a sensory feast too rich to resist.
If it weren't for its brevity, it might kill you.
.gif){kind=small}
