I hate catching fish one at a time

 “I hate catching fish one at a time” says Fisher Poet Dave Densmore casually last winter at a dinner party following the Astoria’s Fisher Poets Gathering in Astoria, Oregon. 

Dave (www.davedensmorefishermanpoet.com) is one of the highliners at the event and has been commercial fishing and performing at Fisher Poets for years. I was pretty intimidated by him, with his larger than life stories, poems, persona and eyebrows.   Every time he would come up to me during the weekend to say “Nice poem” I would shoot off my quickest “Thanks” and scamper away.  That is, until we bonded over our mutual hate of catching fish one at a time.

I had once, mistakenly, stated that I hated catching fish one at a time to a guy who evidently enjoyed sport fishing.  He acted as if I had just defaced not only his very existence, but also everything he had ever held sacred, ever.  I was vilified from that moment on.   And, kind of started to feel bad about it.  That is, until I heard Dave Densmore, commercial fisherman and fisher poet extraordinaire,  make the same declaration.  The moment I heard it, he was my new hero and best friend. I slapped him on the knee, much to both of our surprise and shouted “Thank you!” I gave him a quick rendition of my vilification which vanished at that very  moment.  I all but swooned and cooed as his words of detests for catching fish one at a time washed over me and I felt like I had been saved!  Here, I thought it was just me.

I mean, I love being out on the water, be it a river, creek or the big open blue.  I love being on a boat or skiff.  The cold slimy bait isn’t my favorite, but I can handle that,  (however wiggly worms are right out). Its just, I cast, I wait, then nothing.  I reel it in.  Cast, wait, nothing.  Reel it in.  I cast, wait, oh, this time I have a bobble, no, it was just the bottom.  I reel it in.  I cast, again.  Wait, again.  Nothing.  I reel it in, again.  Sigh.  By now, I’m bored, cold, and half pissed off.  I have plans for this fish I haven’t even caught yet.  There is this scrumptious top secret recipe I’m privy to that I’m dying to try.  I have all the ingredients, I have it all mapped out in my head, I can even taste it.  I’ve told all my friends about this great dish I want to make, I’ve all but planned a party.  But the main guest, the only guests that matters,  is a no show.

So, I replenish my egg bait, cast again and wait.  Oh, tug, tug.  “Fish on!” I cry.  That’s right bitches, stand aside.

I’ve been out here on the Eyak River casting away for about 15-20 minutes or so, wishing I had a gillnet.  Granted, its fall time in Cordova and a nice fall day, overcast and in the low 50’s.  We are in a nice 20-foot drift boat just outside of town. The scenery is quite pretty with the trees and mountains.  The day is pleasant. There are tons of other drift boats around all full of sport-fishermen all drinking beer before noon.   Folks are lined up on the beach in chest waders, standing in cold fast moving water for their chance at a fish.  They look cold and miserable through my eyes.  I feel sorry for them.  Poor bastards.  At least I’m in a boat. I shiver for them.

As I pull up on my rod with my left hand and start to reel it in with my right, I am reminded of all the aches and pains I’ve accrued this season commercial fishing.  My left hand cramps up under with weight of the rod.  My right elbow screams in protest as I reel in this fish.  My left shoulder joins in on the protest, seemingly, just because it doesn’t want to be left out. 

As the fish gets closer, our guide grabs the cutest little dip net that you ever did see.  It's so small, it can be handled with one hand, unlike the 2 foot in diameter dip net we have on the gillnetter attached to a 10 foot pole. 

With all his grace of a guide he swoops his cute net into the water and scoops up my catch.  A Dolly. Varden.  A little 2 pound Dolly, which, though I hear they are good eatin’, I’ve never actually met anyone who has sunk their teeth into this little trout type fish. I think great, now I have bigger bait to catch a coho with.  But no, the guide says we don't do that and let it go. That doesn't even compute.  All that waiting and pain just to let it go.  Poor thing still had the hook in.

I go through these motions a good 20 or 30 more times.  My wrists is killing me, my elbow is about to disown me.  And in the matter of a few hours I manage to catch that exact same damn Dolly another seven times before it was finally time to go back to town and put me out of my misery. 

For 3 hours on the water, I had nothing to show but my own pain, which wasn’t even visible.  And the whole time I was thinking, ya know, if I had a gillnet, I’d be eating by now!

An ass kickin’ silver season

Which has really been more of just an ass kicker,  than ass kickin.  This past week especially, when not one but two storm systems swept through Alaska.  They gave the seas out west of the Aleutian chain 70-knot winds and 17’ seas.  They ripped through the Anchorage bowl earlier this week with 100+ MPH winds tearing out trees, flipping small planes and left 30,000 people without electricity.   Three days later, some 4000 homes are still without power (http://www.adn.com/2012/09/06/2613732/thousands-still-without-power.html).

NOAA's weather graph for 9/4/12

By the time these storms got to us on the Central Gulf Coast, Prince William Sound and the Copper River Flats, it was merely blowing a steady but relentless 40 knots or so.  Of course, this was Monday and there was a silver opener so guys and gals were out fishing.  Most fishing boats faired without too much harm, just tales of close calls of sailing down the channel while picking up the net, catching trees, snagging down and ripping up.  Most guys stayed inside the protection of the barrier islands instead of fishing out in the open ocean where seas were probably over 10 or 15 feet, at least.

The tenders, on the other hand, don’t have the luxury of staying inside.  Their deep drafts prevent them from running all the way to the east end of the fishing grounds inside so they are forced out into the open ocean.  Also, once they have fish on board, they are pretty much committed to getting those fish back to town.  So, come hell or high water, or both at the same time, they usually go. 

Tender Alaskan Pacific

 

One tender, the Alaskan Pacific can attest to that. Coming out of the Bering River, the east end of the fishing grounds, they took a “30 year wave” one that ages you 30 years in an instant.  That wave that broke out both front windows and knocked both guys out of their helm seats.  Their windows must be about 12 feet or so above the water line and they said two-thirds of this wave completely washed over them.  It probably would have flipped a bowpicker like a toy in the tub.  I don’t know what electronics it knocked out, but I know they were lucky enough that it didn’t drown the mains so they were able to come in under their own power.  A 65 nautical mile run in big seas and 40 knot winds with no front windows.  No thank you!  They made it to town all right patched themselves up with plywood and Plexiglas and went back out, in still shitty weather, to buy more fish for Thursday’s opener.  

Usually, it’s the little bowpickers that get their asses kicked, this week it was the bigger boats. 

bowpicker

The Sound Pacer, an 80 foot tender with a green skipper was following fellow tender Tamar into Soft Tuk on the east end of the Flats this last opener, a place where this skipper had never been, with this boat anyhow.   The boat hadn’t been there either this year so the GPS didn’t have any current track lines.  These channels change on an annual basis, so there are no current nautical charts and track lines need to be changed every season.

tender Sound Pacer (picture by Chris Salmon)

After a snotty crossing on the Flats they finally duck into Soft Tuk, missed the channel and promptly ran aground.   They dented in their keel coolers and over heated an engine while getting pummeled by breakers.  Breakers that ripped off their rudder and caused them to start taking on water.  Hopefully, this all happened to the same engine so at least they would still have one engine and could limp off the sand bar when the tide came in. 

View from Sound Pacer (picture by Chris Salmon)

Last I heard, which was last night, everyone was OK and the pumps were able to keep up with the incoming water. They were able to limp in under one engine and were up on the grid last night! 

But fishing boats weren’t the only ones getting their asses handed to them this week.  The Chenega, our 220’ ferry on the Alaska Marine Highway took a pounding last Sunday crossing Prince William Sound from Whittier to Cordova, with 50 Girl Scouts on board.  Evidently, everyone was seasick and they didn’t slow down while getting hit with wave after wave.  They took such a pounding that structural damage was caused!  As of yesterday, September 6^th, inspections reveals that further welding to the framing will be required to meet regulatory standards.  The vessel has been out of commission all week and the soonest estimated date of service is Monday, September 10^th.  We rely on the ferry for transportation of not only people, but also cargo (such as salmon) in and out of town, produce and groceries. 

You can keep posted on that at https://www.facebook.com/cordovabuzz?ref=ts

Lets just hope next week will bring better luck.  And weather. 

Once in a blue moon/ the Labor Day editon

Tonight is a blue moon, which is the second full moon in a month.  We won’t be seeing it in Cordova, raining and blowing here.  Guess we are getting some leftover typhoon from Japan that had winds up to 120 MPH.  The mountains are barely out let alone anything in the sky. Someone else will have to take a picture and report back. 

This weekend is also Labor Day weekend, a day of celebration of the social contributions of workers.   Labor Day is traditionally celebrated on a Monday with parades, picnics and whatnot.  Mondays are the days we typically fish here on the Copper River.  So it’s always been a strange holiday to me, mostly because of its non-existence in my world.  It does make me think of the contributions fishing brings to small towns like Cordova.   Between fishermen, the canneries, gear shops, net hanging, mending, fuel docks, grocery and liquor stores, even in the bars, fishing brings a lot of money to a town.   You’d think it would be highly celebrated.  Maybe because I’m usually out fishing, I miss it, but I don’t think its much of a big deal up here.   We aren’t without celebration though.  The Trident Fisherman’s appreciation party was a few days ago.  And, they threw down!  Free!  Salmon lox, king crab, salmon, halibut, shrimp, and scallops, oh my!  The best part?  Free booze.  That’s right.  No 2 free drink tickets.  Free. Drink. For. 6. Hours. That’s almost a full workday.  It was tough, but we managed.  It wasn’t as good an idea that next day either, but again we managed, barely.  Some better than others. But it was sure fun that night!  I got to see a lot of my fishing buddies.   Also ran into Louie, who I seined herring with back in ’98.  Funny how different our memories are of the same event.  Like him accusing me of faking that fat bloody lip and cracked front tooth just to hang out with our spotter pilot when he had to fly me to the dentist in Kodiak. HA! It’s all good though. 

So, have a good Labor Day everyone.   And don’t forget to thank a fisherman!

Oops

In fishing, its not a matter of if it will happen to you, its a matter of when it will happen.  We all make the mistakes at some point in time or another and most of us all make the same mistakes.  I've made a few of these myself, but, its always funnier when it is someone else this time and not you (or me!)

getting ready for Xmas early by decorating the Whistler

Wonder if the Egg Island can needs a permit

The dogleg in the stick channel.  Yeah, I know this sandbar

Hey, its me.  Is it green right return or red right return?

You're asking me?

We got what you need!  Gas, ice, cigarettes, chew, ice cream.  Just give us a few and we'll be right there

You're in my set.

Reluctant fisherman or just reluctant to write

Until today, I have been a reluctant fisherman, or at least a reluctant writer.  As you may or may not have noticed, my blog has been nothing but photos the past few weeks.  This started out innocently enough, lack of sleep or time to write due to copious amounts of fishing time, cool photos seemed the perfect solution.  But, now that I am back on land and the storm of the season is over, I am still tempted to just post photos, again.  Then I decided to roll my sleeves up and try to figure out why.

I can’t deny there have been some rogue waves the past few months.  As some of you may know, my mom past away back in April after a yearlong battle with cancer.  Two days after the funeral, I hauled my ass cross country from Ohio to Alaska, some 4000 miles, driving 14 hours a day for 7 days straight to make the 1^st fishing opener in Cordova.

Fishing took off like gangbusters and it was full fart from the get-go with 48-hour openers and shitty weather to boot, kicking all of our asses the whole time.  (There were some fish caught, though.) This was about the time my now ex but then current boyfriend check out of my life so fast he left skid marks.  After getting our asses kicked on the Flats for a month, we heading to the Sound where we proceeded to put in 20-hour days, fishing over 500 hours in 32 days.  It takes you normal folks about 4 months to put in 500 hours of work; we did it in a month!  Again, we caught some fish and made some money but I won’t say it weren’t hard earned cake.   That last week I tweaked my low back the day before our biggest. Set. Of. The. Season!   Honestly, our net was sinking.  I took near fatal doses of Vitamin I (Ibuprofen) and moved around like Mr. Roboto to get through the pain.  I had to dose myself at each change of time to get through.  High tide, take two.  Low tide, take two more. 

But, now I’m back in town, my back is on the mend, and I’m back to mending gear.  Having weathered those storms, the forecast is looking good.  V10.  After 2 days of sunshine and 4 trips up the ski-hill, the tide has finally turned! I met self discipline (SD meet Jen, "nice to meet you" Jen meet SD, "grumble, grumble")  but I lost 5 pounds, I’m going to a Poetry Workshop in a few weeks held in my most favorite place in the whole wide world, McCarthy Alaska.  (Gearing up for Fisher Poets early this year!) I’m having fun flirting with a hot man from Anchorage, I’m applying for Writer’s Residencies and looking into going to Bali then hiking in Nepal and inquiring to be on some T.V. program I know nothing about (wish me luck!)  So, finally, I have something to write to all you about.  I couldn’t quite make myself do it until the tide had turned.

But hey, when a fisherman gets a water haul, she just turns around and sets the net out again. 

Boats of the Fleet

The North line

Tender extraordinaire, Aquanator

James Baby on the Exodus

Curly and the Savonia

Guido on the Night Owl

Old WW II powerbarge turned tender the Robert S

Peter Pan tender the Victory.  Ain't she a beaut?  From 1942

Erosion AKA Ketchup

 Roulette It's a Russian boat. Get it? 

Russian Fleet waiting for a turn at the North line

I'm taking a poll.  The past few weeks I've only posted photos and not much story.  What do we think?  More photos or more writing?  Put a comment in box and let me know what you think!

Faces of the fleet

Leo & Curly

the Blackster aka Bill Black

Fishing is still in full swing here on the Copper and Prince William Sound.  We start fishing Thursday morning and fish until Sunday morning.  Then we fish Monday morning and fish until Wednesday morning.  Then we start all over again Thursday morning.  But its been fun and I'm having a blast taking photos.  This week I wanted to feature some of the faces of the fleet.  There are more for sure but this is a taste.  Hope you enjoy!

Fisher Poet Buck

Vince on the Pasak

Ian, pickin' up a frenzy

Bill loading up

Phil & his fish pickin' daughter Marina

Salmon Slayer Dan

Skipper Danny

Thea sunning herself on the North Line

Crew Quicksilver, Danny & Me

setnetters snoozing waiting to deliver

beach crew

JP, setnetter extraordinaire