Memorial Day Weekend

Fishing was stellar this week.  The anticipated catch for Monday was around 93,000 with the actual catch about 240,000 sockeye salmon.  Or there abouts for the 12 hour opener.  That’s an average of 300 fish per boat.  With escapement right on target Thursdays opener is a 36 hour one.  Or so I’m told. But me?  I’m in Ohio.  It wasn’t a planned trip, but a necessary one.  You see, my mom was just diagnosed with stage IV kidney cancer.  It has a more technical name than that, but I can hardly remember it let alone spell it.  I just know that you never know about these things and it was time to get home to see her.  So, a ferry ride, a red eye flight and an eight hour drive across 3 states and I showed up on her at her door.  

My sister, my mom, and I are trying to take it all in stride.  But it’s hard.  And overwhelming.  And too much.  And did I mention hard?  Well, it needs to be mentioned twice, because it is.  There is so much to digest and to do.  I tried to prepare myself but I didn’t know what to prepare for.  Turns out the things I was prepared for didn’t happen and I wasn’t prepared for what did happen. Funny how the universe likes to throw those curve balls. The things I thought would be hard aren’t and then the hard things catch me off guard.   Like taking her to her chemo.  We pull up in my out of state rental car and the free hospital Valet parking guy says “Welcome to Ohio.”  We are still giggling at his sense of humor when we walk into this nice, well foliaged building.  My eyes automatically start scanning the place as I walk through the door.  I see brick, plants, a coffee shop, stairs, and all things you would expect to see.  I see people walking around………in head scarves and hats or bald.  That was one of those unexpected moments that hit you like a ton of bricks ………. “I’m in a chemo ward”.  I had to muster all I had not to cry right then and there.  “Be brave for your mother, she needs you now” was what I heard a voice in my head say. 

There is so much to do.  The paper work, financial aid applications, medicines, check lists, nutritional diets, support groups, more paperwork………the dreaded will. We are still trying to process that cancer part.  It’s all too much and all I can report this week.  But, one bite of the elephant at a time.   

If anyone would like to send my mom a card, I’m sure she would love it.  You can mail it to:

Jeanne

c/o Jen Pickett

PO Box 1135

Cordova, AK

99574

A real rip-snorter.........Revised Edition

Well, it's Friday and we have 2 openers under our belts for the week.  The first opener was on Monday, May 16th.  The weather was decent and sunny, though there was a bit of a lump out there from a westerly swell.  It was a low water opener, with a minus tide.  So, big tides and lots of water running through there.  Rumors were the river was low and colder than normal and the ocean was warmer than normal, but no one knows what that means.  Anyhow, we started inside and targeted kings.  We got a handful, including one 50 pounder!  My job was to scoop it up with the dip net and bring it aboard.  With the high price we get at the beginning of the season, that makes that king about a $300 fish!

Me & and $300 50 lb King Salmon

  After that, we jumped outside of the barrier islands and fished in the open ocean. 

The Copper River Delta

I "borrowed" this image online, but it shows the fishing grounds well.  The red word says "Cordova".  We commute out through the light blue water.  If you look close into the grey, kind of where the blue letters are, you can see barrier islands.  In between those islands are big swells and breakers caused by the shallowness of the water.  Fishing "inside" means inside those islands and fishing "outside" means out in the open ocean.

It has been along time since everyone had such a good first opener.  There were fish around, decent weather and good price.  I'm not exactly sure what the price ended up being, but I heard $6.50 for kings and $4.00 for reds.

It wasn't all roses, though.  One boat had a leaky through hull fitting and was taking on water in the bow.  Boats were standing by and the Coast Guard Helicopter came out and dropped him a high volume pump so he could keep up with the amount of water he was taking on.  We was able to limp back to town.  Out plight was much less severe.  Coming in, I got us stuck.  We were following boats and was off my track line on the GPS.  It was a new area for me and I didn't know it.  I looked away for one second to ask where to go and we ran out of water.  It's all sand bottom here, so it's not a huge deal, well, it can be if you get stuck in the wrong spot. But it was low water and the tide was coming in, so all was OK.  Still, Skipper got pissed and yelled.  I got pissed and yelled back, like we were this old married couple or something.  I think it has something to do with spending more hours together than the length of the boat.  48 hours on a 32 foot boat changes you. We could see two other boats high and dry.  That made me feel better.  And on the way in, I saw about another 10 boats dry. 

Then there was the second opener........There were still fish around but the price dropped in half, about $2.25 for reds.  It blew and there were big tides, making it pretty sloppy out there.   We anchored in Grass Island, about in the middle of the river.  That wind just came screaming down the river all night. We hopped out the bar around 5 AM and things didn't look too bad.  The forecast was calling for Gale Warnings, SE 40 and rain.  The forecasts almost always calls for rain.  Anyway, we made a set when it opened at 7 AM and it had gotten kinda lumpy out there.  As one guy said "A little bit more and it could really get ornery out here."   We ran west a bit and was nestled, more or less, in between the Grass bar and the Pete Dahl bar were its wasn't too bad.  But it was blowing about 35 knots and a 10 foot swell.  It wasn't nice. Guys were running east to set back out and you could see half their boats at a time.  One guy put it well, "You need some kind of bullet proof operation to get though this."  A lot of guys just staying inside or on anchor.  A valid choice!

Just as we were setting the net, I looked up and about 200 feet away was a hump back whale breaching all the way out of the water!  A little bit of beauty amongst all the snotty weather. Though not if it went through our net.  By the time we picked up our net, we were sailing 2 knots with the current and it was blowing about 40-45.  That's a real hair parter.  One guy was calling for help on the radio.  He had lost his hydraulics and couldn't pick up his gear. His boat had power, just no way to get the net in.  If it's nice out, you can pull it in by hand.  But it wasn't nice out.  I never did hear how it panned out for him, but I'm sure he's fine.

We picked up just before wrapping the Pete Dahl can, a metal marker buoy that likes to collect nets.   We went in as did the rest of the group.  Too bad, too there were fish out there.  But, when it's blowing like that, one little thing goes wrong, and things go down hill fast.  Plus the tide was about to change and then the current was going to be running against the wind, making it a real rip-snorter.  That's a technical term. 

Last night, there were several MAYDAY calls to the Coast Guard. One was from the Warhawk, but I heard he made it to Shag Rock later (which is almost to town) and was OK. I heard through the grape vine that he rolled it then it righted itself, still running.   Another boat, the Wanted (which is my old boat and the one you see in all my pictures) also made a MAYDAY call. Four souls on board, they had lost their anchor and were almost out of fuel.  Another boat, the Knee Deep sunk coming in the bar.  Sounds like the Coast Guard plucked them out of the water.  At 10:00 PM last night, the ambulance took three people to the hospital, where they prepped for hypothermia. Another guy, the Accelerator took a wave over the cabin and swamped the boat.  I guess the only thing that saved him was the fact that his fish hold was full of fish and it acted as a ballast. Otherwise, it could have launched him.  That happened to Skipper, ironically,  he used to own the Knee Deep.  He took a wave over the cabin and went ass over tea-kettle in Pete Dahl.  His anchor was tied on and when he flipped, his anchor set him in the breakers.  He was there several hours ducking under his swim step every time a wave came until the chopper came a scooped him out of the water.  That was in the late '70's. 

Those are all the details I know, but will update you if more trickle in.  But I got to hand it to the Coast Guard.  Those guys and gals sure earn their keep around here, risking their lives to save the lives of others.  I salute you! 

A real rip-snorter.........

Well, it's Friday and we have 2 openers under our belts for the week.  The first opener was on Monday, May 16th.  The weather was decent and sunny, though there was a bit of a lump out there from a westerly swell.  It was a low water opener, with a minus tide.  So, big tides and lots of water running through there.  Rumors were the river was low and colder than normal and the ocean was warmer than normal, but no one knows what that means.  Anyhow, we started inside and targeted kings.  We got a handful, including one 50 pounder!  My job was to scoop it up with the dip net and bring it aboard.  With the high price we get at the beginning of the season, that makes that king about a $300 fish!  After that, we jumped outside of the barrier islands and fished in the open ocean.

The Copper River Delta

I "borrowed" this image online, but it shows the fishing grounds well.  The red word says "Cordova".  We commute out through the light blue water.  If you look close into the grey, kind of where the blue letters are, you can see barrier islands.  In between those islands are big swells and breakers caused by the shallowness of the water.  Fishing "inside" means inside those islands and fishing "outside" means out in the open ocean.

It has been along time since everyone had such a good first opener.  There were fish around, decent weather and good price.  I'm not exactly sure what the price ended up being, but I heard $6.50 for kings and $4.50 for reds.

It wasn't all roses, though.  One boat had a leaky through hull fitting and was taking on water in the bow.  Boats were standing by and the Coast Guard Helicopter came out and dropped him a high volume pump so he could keep up with the amount of water he was taking on.  We was able to limp back to town.  Out plight was much less severe.  Coming in, I got us stuck.  We were following boats and was off my track line on the GPS.  It was a new area for me and I didn't know it.  I looked away for one second to ask where to go and we ran out of water.  It's all sand bottom here, so it's not a huge deal, well, it can be if you get stuck in the wrong spot. But it was low water and the tide was coming in, so all was OK.  Still, Skipper got pissed and yelled.  I got pissed and yelled back, like we were this old married couple or something.  I think it has something to do with spending more hours together than the length of the boat.  48 hours on a 32 foot boat changes you. We could see two other boats high and dry.  That made me feel better.  And on the way in, I saw about another 10 boats dry.

Then there was the second opener........There were still fish around but the price dropped in half, about $2.25 for reds.  It blew and there were big tides, making it pretty sloppy out there.   We anchored in Grass Island, about in the middle of the river.  That wind just came screaming down the river all night. We hopped out the bar around 5 AM and things didn't look too bad.  The forecast was calling for Gale Warnings, SE 40 and rain.  The forecasts almost always calls for rain.  Anyway, we made a set when it opened at 7 AM and it had gotten kinda lumpy out there.  As one guy said "A little bit more and it could really get ornery out here."   We ran west a bit and was nestled, more or less, in between the Grass bar and the Pete Dahl bar were its wasn't too bad.  But it was blowing about 35 knots and a 10 foot swell.  It wasn't nice. Guys were running east to set back out and you could see half their boats at a time.  One guy put it well, "You need some kind of bullet proof operation to get though this."  A lot of guys just staying inside or on anchor.  A valid choice!

Just as we were setting the net, I looked up and about 200 feet away was a hump back whale breaching all the way out of the water!  A little bit of beauty amongst all the snotty weather. Though not if it went through our net.  By the time we picked up our net, we were sailing 2 knots with the current and it was blowing about 40-45.  That's a real hair parter.  One guy was calling for help on the radio.  He had lost his hydraulics and couldn't pick up his gear. His boat had power, just no way to get the net in.  If it's nice out, you can pull it in by hand.  But it wasn't nice out.  I never did hear how it panned out for him, but I'm sure he's fine.

We picked up just before wrapping the Pete Dahl can, a metal marker buoy that likes to collect nets.   We went in as did the rest of the group.  Too bad, too there were fish out there.  But, when it's blowing like that, one little thing goes wrong, and things go down hill fast.  Plus the tide was about to change and then the current was going to be running against the wind, making it a real rip-snorter.  That's a technical term.

Last night, there were several MAYDAY calls to the Coast Guard. One was from the Warhawk, but I heard he made it to Shag Rock later (which is almost to town) and was OK.  Another boat, the Wanted (which is my old boat and the one you see in all my pictures) also made a MAYDAY call. Four souls on board, they had lost their anchor and were almost out of fuel.  At 10:00 PM last night, the ambulance took three people to the hospital, where they prepped for hypothermia.  Those are all the details I know, but will update you if more trickle in.  But I got to hand it to the Coast Guard.  Those guys and gals sure earn their keep around here, risking their lives to save the lives of others.  I salute you! 

1st Copper River Opener of 2011!

This is a PSA.  Due to technical difficulties (my blog host was down yesterday) this blog is a day late and a dollar short.  Must be a Friday the 13th thang.  My apologies for any inconvenience.  With that said, let's get started.

It's here!! It's here! It's almost here!  The 1st commercial fishing opener is Monday, May 16th at 7:00 AM!  The whole town is a buzz.  Everyone is scurrying around (or running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, depends how you look at it) gearing up for the season.  Last minute things like fixing broken valves on hydro's, repairing nets,  attaching out-drives, launching boats, or, simply even just arriving town. It's all gotta get done.  It seems every year this date sneaks up on us and there is never enough time to pull it all together. But, we usually all manage anyway and usually make it out there on Monday.  Though I already heard of two guys that just aren't going to make it.  One guy, his boat sat for a few years before he bought it.  A unused boat is not a good thing.  Things seize up, rust, break, etc.  In his case, I think it's a prudent move to wait.  The Copper River Flats is no place for a shake down cruise to find faulty equipment.  It's too dangerous for that type of thing.  But, I digress.  The other guy, and this has got to be frustrating, a store clerk dropped the ball on ordering his part and that delayed its arrival by 5 days..........so he'll miss the opener.  Sometime, its just not up to us.  Me?  I'll be heading out on this one.  It will be nice to get out on the water again.  I ran my raingear and survival suit down to the boat yesterday.  A strange familiarity came back the instant I stepped aboard.  I'll go fish and report back next week.

A good place to keep up with the excitement is Copper River Salmon on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CopperRiverSalmon. They even have a count down 'til the opener.  If you want to keep up with the official news you can check out the Alaska Department of Fish and Game (ADF&G) at http://www.adfg.alaska.gov/index.cfm?adfg=commercialbyareacopperriver.salmon.  More info here: http://aprn.org/2011/05/12/first-salmon-opening-of-the-year-starts-monday/.  And, if you are looking for ways to cook your fresh Copper River Salmon, check out this site.  I think the King Salmon with Lemon Caper Butter looks divine.   http://start.tastespotting.com/tag/wild+salmon.


The sun is shining here in Cordova for three whole days now The sunrise is 5:17 and sunset is 10:37 giving us tons of daylight (sorry to make you do your own math there, it's about 17+ hours of day). And...........SHOREBIRDS!  Shorebirds are here.  These little critters land here every year on their migration from some place like Chili to the Arctic Circle.  I think its the longest migration on earth.  Anywho, they land out at Hartney Bay and gobble up some bugs before taking off again.  I was lucky to catch them on a nice evening and got a few pics.

Shorebirds at Hartney Bay

Shorebirds

Until next week, eat fish!!

Cruiseship Part II

I speed up my hydraulics and pick a little faster.  I hear my buddies call on the radio. I don't have time for the radio but know they will worry if I don't respond.  I run in and tell them quickly that I see the ship and that I’m picking my net right now and have to get back out on deck.   I’m sure they were worried and could hear the panic in my voice.  I was 28 and it was my first fishing season. 

            I race back out of the cabin and back to picking my net.  I look over my cabin again and now, I’m alarmed.  But, on the other hand, there is still a little sense of denial, like maybe I’m over reacting.  Maybe I just look like I’m in his path but he’ll really go around me.  I think there is often a little element of disbelieve when bad things happen to us.  A moment of “this can’t be happening”.    Although, that moment was fleeting and in an instant I’m back to reality.  This monstrosity is heading right for me there is no denying it now.   No time to pick the fish out of the net.  I realize I need to get my net in now!  I consider my options while picking up my net.  My mind is racing. With more than half of my net still out, there is no way I can maneuver the boat anywhere. My engine doesn’t have enough horsepower to just tow the net out of the way.  Besides, this thing is so big, it’s hard to judge if I even could tow out of its path.  I make the split second decision to either get my net aboard or cut myself free of it.  I stop and think for a second where my in case of emergency knife is.  The one that is brand new and I don’t use in order to keep is sharp for instances such as these.  I look over and it’s hanging in its little case next to the steering station.  I thank my lucky stars that it’s there.  I grab it and set in next to me, just in case I can’t get the entire net in and have to cut it free.  I figure with me towing on one end it should be pretty tight and relatively easy to cut.  Especially if the cruise ship grabs the other end of the net, it will be tight as a drum then.  But, I’ll have to be quick.  If I linger too long, I’ll get sucked into the bow wake of the ship and it will slam me against its side.  And at $5000 for a new net, I want to get my net aboard. Looking back, I can’t believe I was more concerned about a lousy $5000 fishing net than I was about my life!  But, I think there was still that element of denial going on.  As if I hadn’t accepted anything else except best case scenario of getting me and my equipment out of danger.   The reality of having to choose between myself and my boat hadn’t sunk in yet.

 Finally, I stop picking the fish out of my net and just drum it all aboard.  Everything is going on the drum, net, fish and all.  This is very poor quality handling of the fish and pretty much ruins them, but given the circumstance, I can't care about quality right now.  Yet, the idea of fish quality still flashes through my mind.  Nevertheless I remind myself that the quality isn't going to be very good if they are splattered all over the bow of a cruise ship and I’m at the bottom of the ocean, either.  But drumming fish aboard my boat is a risk, too.  If I have too many fish, they won't all fit on my drum.  Then my drum will be full and I'll still have net out.  In that case, I'll have to pull the rest of the net in by hand, which is doable but, takes forever and is not even an option this morning.

I look up again and now I am looking straight up at the bow of this cruise ship.   I bump up my hydraulics and put the boat in reverse so the net will tighten and fit on the drum better.  I wish I had thought of this sooner.  Otherwise, like I mentioned, my drum will fill up and I’ll have to pull the rest of the net in my hand.  This is not something I have time for this morning and neither is beating myself up for not thinking of things sooner.  I rev up the engine again to bump up the speed of my hydraulics, again, and am running them faster than they are designed to go.  I’m hoping I don’t blow a hose as I'm listening to them whine.   Actually, now I’m praying I don’t blow a hose. It’s funny; they say if you aren’t religious when you go out fishing, you will be by the time you get back.  I think there may be an element of truth to that.

 Looking up again, I realize now I’m seriously in trouble.  I have been out on deck about 7 minutes and awake about 15 minutes.  I am looking at this giant wall of metal getting bigger and bigger and as it gets closer it gets closer.   I am right dead center in its path.  If I don’t get out of its way, I will be run over. There is no longer any doubt, no longer any room for denial.  He is not going around me. He is heading right at me.  I throttle up again to speed up my hydraulics which are now screaming.  Fish are flying aboard and smacking the deck as they are going around the drum, thud, thud, thud.  Water, jellyfish, and fish blood are flying everywhere.  I grab my in case of emergency knife.  I am ready to cut my net in order to get out of the way.     It’s looking like I’ll have to cut my net after all.  Not my first option, it’s the last.  However, I am running out of options.   If I don't get my net aboard and this ship hits my net, he will suck me along side and I’ll be crushed against the side of the boat.  I’ve heard of this happening to guys down in Puget Sound. It’s a bad scene and right now, best case scenario.  If this ship hits me, well, let’s just say I won't be worrying about my net anymore. 

All the while, I’m thinking “This is it? This is how I go?  Really?  I don’t at least get the honor of being taken by a wave in Kokinhenik, the most dangerous bar on the Copper River Delta, like so many other great fishermen.  I have to be killed by a big, tacky cruise ship? How indignant.  I want a more honorable death.”

            Needless to say, adrenaline is running high, my heart is pumping and I am doing all I can to get my net in a get out of this guys way. I keep looking at how full my drum is, how much net I still have aboard, and back at how close the cruise ship is. I’m practically giving myself whip-lash just assessing the situation.  Finally, in comes the end of my net. I rejoice a small moment.  Never mind the fact that I’m not religious, I thank god I was able to get the whole thing in without blowing a hose or filling up the drum.  My buoy comes flying in and smacks down on the deck. Thud!  Quickly, I run inside to shut off my hydraulics because my outside switch broke. I don’t want to risk the hydro’s blowing when I got full throttle to get out of here.  I think to myself I really need to fix that switch. My net is aboard but my boat is still in the way.  I race back on deck and push the throttle into full forward, down as far as it will go. The diesel engine roars and I feel the bow rise up and the stern squat down as it picks up speed.  I run out of there full bore, as fast as I can.  I look back and see that I am clear of the boat, except for his bow wake coming at me.  I quickly turn the wheel and I get my boat turned around just as his bow wake is hits my bow.  Because I’m so close, his wake is steep and fast.  Catching it on the side would probably flip me.  My boat climbs up then slides back down each individual wave, about four of five on them in total, each one about six feet tall, but becoming smaller.

            Finally, I am out of danger, with only about 100 feet to spare.  I look up in awe as this white monster fills my entire field of vision.  I watch it go by me and I feel my knees go weak. The rush of adrenaline was gone and my eyes fill with tears.  My knees give out and I sit down on my fish hold and cry.  Through blurry eyes, I see this giant go past me.  I imagine the passengers having a lovely breakfast, gaze out the window and see me, sitting on my boat.   I give them the finger.  

I didn't take this picture.  My boat is that small dot under the dip net.