Chum Salmon Showdown: November Fishing in the PNW

November 6, 2025

November has arrived in the Pacific Northwest, bringing the familiar rhythm of falling leaves, steady rain, and those ever-shortening days. For most anglers, fishing season is wrapping up—rods stowed, reels cleaned, and daydreams of next spring already brewing. But up here? We're spoiled. Year-round fishing is basically a perk of PNW life. If you're game enough to brave the elements, you can chase world-class bites nearly every month. Last week, I scratched my Alaskan rainbow trout obsession on the Kenai River—a mind-blowing late-October gem.  This week? I headed up to the Puget Sound region for a showdown with the mighty chum salmon. It's one of those underrated November fisheries that lights up a handful of Washington and Oregon rivers, delivering non-stop action if you time it right.

It all kicked off with a simple text from my fishing buddy, Kenny G. On Monday, he dropped this bombshell:

Kenny G: Chum fishing was really good today—hooked 20 fish!!!!!

Me: Oh dang!! I'll look to see if I can get up there later this week.

Kenny G: Sounds good.

Me: Thursday morning?

Kenny G: That sounds great. I'll be there at 6:30.

Me: C U there.

And that was it. No back-and-forth drama, just pure trust. We met at our spot on the Green River near Auburn, WA, like clockwork. I knew Kenny would beat the dawn to claim our prime real estate, and he knew I'd haul my butt up from Camas through whatever Mother Nature threw at me. That's the magic of a true fishing partner: When the bite's on, they're there—geared up, on time, and unbreakable. Kenny's one of those rare gems, and I'm damn grateful for it.

Cue Thursday: 3:30 a.m. alarm, black-as-pitch skies, and a biblical PNW downpour hammering I-5 the whole 2.5-hour drive. If you've ever white-knuckled that stretch in the dark—semi-truck spray blinding you, hydroplaning paranoia on high alert, and post-Olympia traffic turning it into a demolition derby—you get the agony. It's a gauntlet that tests your soul, but damn if it doesn't make the payoff sweeter.

Beautiful November morning olong the Green River

I finally stumbled to the riverbank at 6:30, soaked but stoked. There was Kenny, holding down our spot like a boss, already hooked into a couple of chums. I unpacked my stuff: two rods, a tackle box stocked with extras, and—lesson learned from last year's net-less fiasco—a good landing net. (Nothing like wrestling a thrashing 10-pounder bare-handed.)

I stashed everything in the blackberry thicket behind us and grabbed my go-to setup: a 9.5-foot medium spinning rod, spooled with the new ProBraid OG 8 Orange braid in 30-pound test, and a float rig topped with a Steelhead Scampy jig from B&R Tackle.

NEW ProBraid OG 8X 30# braided line held up to the toughest conditions.

Here's my foolproof chum float rig for this fishery—simple, but deadly.

1. Bobber Stop: Slide it up your braid, remove the plastic sleeve, cinch it tight to your desired depth, and trim the excess.

2. Bead: Thread one right below the stop to protect your knot.

3. Bobber: Add a 3/8-ounce Beaumack slip bobber next.

4. Second Bead: Slide another one under the bobber for a clean stop.

5. Torpedo Weight: Tie on a swivel-ended sinker (I like the inline style) to keep things snag-free.

6. Leader: Connect an 18-24-inch section of 20-pound Maxima monofilament to the weight's other end.

7. Jig: Tie on your jig of choice—Steelhead Scampi or a 1/4-ounce VMC pink-and-white twitching jig for me.

My Chum Setup

Pro tip: The real secret sauce? Tip that jig with cured shrimp. You can hook chum on a bare jig, but a chunk of cured shrimp turns good days into legends. Lucky for me, Kenny's got his proprietary "magic shrimp cure” Looks like victory and a little voodoo—don't ask for the recipe; I know it involves Pautzke, but the rest is classified.”  Kenny G has his shrimp game on lock and he always hooks me up.

Ken doing battle with a November Chum

Rod ready and jig shrimp-tipped, I fired my first cast. Eyes glued to the float, I barely blinked before—BAM!—Kenny's rod doubled over. He'd stuck a purple-bronze bulldog, all dogged muscle and spawning fury, peeling line off the reel.  I reeled my jig in quickly, snatched the net, and sloshed down the muddy bank into the current. But this fish? It had other plans. It was a full-on rodeo: head shakes, runs, and pure chum attitude. I cracked up watching Kenny pour everything into it, until he finally surrendered to the stalemate. "I guess I'll Just wait it out," he muttered. Minutes later (felt like hours), he steered it my way. One smooth scoop, a few quick hero shots, and we sent that beauty back to the spawning grounds. Chum in full color are straight-up stunning—iridescent bronze/copper fading to deep purple and green hues, with a fight that humbles you every time.

Ken with another nice Chum Salmon

I caught on a few with the Scampi, but Kenny was smoking me 3-to-1 on his smaller steelhead jig. Time to adapt: Switched to the VMC jig, and holy hooks—it was the ticket. Cast after cast, I was into 'em, landing six or seven solid fish. The highlight? A absolute tanker that bulldozed across the river, dorsal slicing the surface like a mini hammerhead. That battle tested every ounce of my setup—the rod bending double, braid screaming—but the 30-pound ProBraid OG held rock-solid, and that orange color? Super visible in the murk, zero stretch, all power.

The frenzy held steady until 10:30 a.m., when reality (and sales calls) yanked me away. We packed up, fist-bumped by the trucks, and plotted our next hit: spring Chinook, baby. Another unforgettable PNW grind in the books.

Thanks for reading.

Bill