True North’s Odyssey

Well, here we are back in Elfin Cove for a two-day break, along with 95% of the folks fishing in the area.  Two separate weather fronts back to back have made for some interesting conditions, so most everyone felt it a good time to  come in, take a shower, do laundry, and sleep good for a night tied to a dock rather than worrying about your anchorage. 

As I said last post, the trip over was long – one can hardly imagine the immensity of the land until you travel 130 miles at about 7 miles an hour, watching the scenery go by.  I’ve talked before of the the course thru Peril Straits, which we did without a hitch.  We anchored the first night at Poison Cove, just at the mouth of Hoonah Strait.  A seiner was already there, so we dropped the hook and got ready for the night.  As darkness fell, there was a continual tiny splashing – the cove was full of some sort of small bait fish, feeding in a frenzy.  I later talked to a guy here at Elfin who anchored at the same spot one fall a couple of years back, who woke up in the night to find a sow and cub brown bear on his deck, attracted by the smell of the elk steaks he had grilled the night before!  A warning shot got the sow overboard, and a second, closer shot finally dislodged the cub!  He encouraged me to  get a larger gun than the .38 we carry, in case we ever get washed ashore.  Fishy boat, on shore – free meals, bears!

The second day, by getting fortunate with tidal flow, we made it into Hoonah harbor for the night.  Sixteen bucks, no toilets, showers, and a couple of grumpy dudes to make sure you tied up with plenty of room for the luxury yachts from Juneau.  Guess our little fishing boat should have docked out front!  Next time.

We left Hoonah with the tide washing us along Icy Strait toward Cross Sound.  If you look at a chart, all the waters of Glacier Bay, Juneau area, Northern Chatham Strait – all exit to sea at tide change via the North and South Inian passes, around Inian Island.  This is the dividing line between Cross Sound and Icy Strait.   The chart notes that currents in the passes routinely exceed 10 knots over and above normal current flow, so use caution.  We had been warned to only try to make our way thru South Inian Pass at slack tide, turning to ebb – our boat would only be able to go backwards at best if we missed it.  We fished Idaho Bay, at the entrance to the pass for a few hours (2 fish) while killing time.  Just as the tide turned slack we entered the Pass.  Our navigation program indicated a tidal current of 0.0 knots; wind was low, but in our faces, with about a 2 foot swell.  Two minutes into the channel, I looked at the indicator – 2.5 knots.  Two minutes later, we were flying along at 8.5 knots – a drastic and frightening change of speed, and we still had about a half hour to go.  Midway, we got some sideways wind gusts thru the islands, creating a sideways chop, and the whirlpools and strong current eddies began to whip us this way and that.  Ahead we could see the mouth of the pass, and what I saw scared the liver out of me.  As the current flowed out of the inside waters, it met the sea swell, about 6 feet at the time.  The clashing of the two waters made waves about 9 feet tall, standing straight up – not gentle swells.  We were being swept into this cauldron at almost 11 knots by now, and had no choice but to keep the motor running hard to maintain steerage.  Just as we hit the mess, a large charter boat, much faster, passed us on the right.  I was grateful to see him just off our bow, since it gave me an idea of how to hit the waves to get thru them.  The stretch lasted about a 10 minute eternity, and I could finally see smoother water ahead.  Once past the choke point, things got better in a hurry.  We picked up all the things that had been dislodged and thrown to the floor – a few dishes and our ice chest, but no great damage had occurred.  We came around the corner, and found our way to what so far, has been the neatest corner of Southeast Alaska that we have found. 

Elfin Cove.  No cars, no streets, -- just boats, basic services, and a boardwalk that connects everything, winding thru a rain forest from harbor to seafront.   What a place – the picture below is the wheelchair ramp on the boardwalk – about 30 feet high,  a 45 degree angle!  Yeah, right! Someone had lots of time on their hands! 

 

We pulled into the inner harbor, and were met by Kurt from the Jager – a welder/machinist fisherman from Sitka that I had only met once thru Steve of the Point Amelia.  He has fished here for years, and made us very welcome, showing us the facilities and giving us tips on how to keep in areas that were safe for newcomers.  (If you are a troller, please skip the next sentence. )  He even let us follow him on Saturday, charting a couple of nice drags, and the way thru the rocks (!!literally) into Hoktaheen Cove for the night.  The picture shows us following them – yes, the anchorage is on the OTHER side of those rocks! 

The next shot shows what it looks like from inside.    

 

We find the fleet here to be very down to earth, capable people that don’t seem to be as angry and intense as some of the other areas we’ve been.  More a sense of community here – I know I sure feel greatly relieved fishing here, knowing there are at least 5 other boats I can call on for help or advice – that’s a bonus I haven’t known in Sitka.

Saturday, our first day to fish here, was beautiful.  The ocean was calm, and the sun shined on and off throughout the day.  I had Lovie at the wheel while I set gear, and I no sooner had my first line down than she yelled, “Fish on!”.  I continued to set my other three lines, all instantly jerking and bobbing with the strikes of fish.  I pulled them in, getting a mixed bag of pinks(humpies) and silvers(coho).  Pinks we can sell for about a quarter a pound, so we kept them in a separate bag.  Not real money makers, but 60-100 bucks a day pays the gas.  I quickly learned what they were hitting and removed those lures, so we would catch more silvers.

I kept putting out gear, pulling in gear, conking fish, cleaning fish, all day.  I was exhausted!  I’ve since learned to let the lines go for a while after you see fish hit – you don’t wear out so easily,  and the fish already hooked seem to attract others, so the hooks tend to fill up better.  We learn! 

Fog is a common item here, and it is THICK!  Thank goodness for radar.  I have added a couple of shots here – one of the radar screen – the black dots are boats; the next is the view from the front of the boat, showing you what you see with the naked eye.  Quite a difference!    

 

 

One thing happened during the day that was special.  This borders on the delusional and mystical, so if you have a problem with that, sorry.  This is how it was to the two of us.  It was my dad’s birthday, so he was on my mind more than usual.  I was tired, realizing how close to the edge of the known world we really were, and wondering where the point was that you fall off, as I’ve wondered a lot during the last months.  Back in the pit, I had a moment to look around between activity, and I saw a brown, furry head directly behind the boat about 50 feet.  Sea lions are hated here, because they rip salmon off your hooks, taking gear and all, causing lots of dollar loss.  I first thought it was a sea lion, and yelled at it.  It swam closer, and I realized it was a small brown seal, curiously raising it’s head out of the water and examining me.  It came up to about 1o feet from the boat, looking us over, then using its flippers, smoothly flipped out of the water a couple of times, as if for fun.  For almost 5 hours, it followed us, swimming close to the boat contentedly.  Looking eye to eye at it, I felt a sense of comfort that I really needed.  It seemed that my dad, gone from us for almost a couple of years now, was there with us, reassuring us in some way.  Dad always loved to swim with flippers, and this little guy did, too.  With tears streaming, I told Lovie, “PawPaw has come to cheer us up!”.  Later, I told her how I had cried alone in the pit, and she said she had to go inside so I wouldn’t see her weep also!!  Small or large miracles, believe what you will, that’s the way it was.  Thanks.

At the end of the first day, we made our way behind two other boats into Hoktaheen Cove, a small, exposed cove that offers anchorage in moderate weather.  A fish buyer from Excursion Inlet is there every other night, so we were able to sell our fish and get fresh ice.  75 coho, 65 pinks – not bad for the first day!  The check for over 700 bucks didn’t hurt my feelings any, either – first positive cash flow in a long time!  We took loads of Advil, slept 5 hours, and headed out at 5 to fish again.  Same story, second day.  Monday, same thing.  Fish, fish, fish. 

 

I love to look down into the crystal clear water, 50-60 feet down, and see hook after hook with the grey-green torpedo shape of the coho trailing along.  We travel at about 3 knots, so they just swim along for the ride, waiting for me to try to gaff and land them.  We caught one that was twice the size off the others, about an 18 pounder.  Most are averaging just under 6 pounds now, but they will grow at a rapid rate as the season progresses.  By September, the weight average is projected to be almost twice what we see now.  Or so I’m told!  Guys here have really encouraged me, saying this is only practice for the real season – get a broom to lash to the mast if you clear $100,000 – a number of boats do that every year here.  If I do a quarter of that, I will think things were a rousing success for the first year!  There is hope!

We went up the mouth of Lisianski Inlet to escape some Southwesterly weather a couple of nights ago, and sold our fish to the Shoreline scow. 

It is manned (??) by a bunch of tough young ladies who live and work on a big floating scow that’s anchored in a little cove.  You tie up to either side, and they offload your fish, resupply you with ice, and give you money!  Nice.  They are a pleasant group – I saw similar qualities in them that some of our Montana gals have – tough, capable, and good-looking!  The place has some basic supplies, a free shower, washer/dryer, sauna, and cupcakes!  Pretty cool.  I’ve posted a shot or two of the scow – sign on the door says “Scowgirls Kick A__” .   Says it all, eh?!

Well, that’ll do for now.  Sure nice to be here in harbor – some old guy in a boat just down the way is playing a fiddle – better go see what that’s all about!  Should have brought the guitar! 

Fish On!

Elfin Cove

Wow.  What a week!  A whole new phase of life has evolved for us in the last few days.  This will be a short post, as we only have a couple of hours in the Cove before the tide goes so low we can’t get out, and we need to get back to the fish.  We have been in here twice – anchored in Hoktaheen Cove on Yakobi Island for the other nights since it’s closer to the fishing grounds. 

Elfin Cove has phone service, fuel, post office, store, and showers, but we haven’t been here during business hours yet!  Got to get a few things in the mail and at least get tokens for the shower so we can clean up next time we are in.  A week is a long span between…!

The trip was long – 3 days of traveling – and had some interesting moments.  The trip was worth it so far – about 200 cohos in 3 days, and the same number of humpies (pinks).  The picture says it all – our first delivery to the fish tender, a big boat that comes out to where the fishing is and buys fish and supplies ice to us – Lovie was glad to get them sold!   This is only half of them.

The work is a bit intense – up at dawn (4 am or so), anchored at 9 or 10 pm, setting gear, checking gear, conking fish, cleaning fish, icing fish over and over.  I’m beat! 

Well, lots to take care of. Better info next post.

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Darkness falls late at this time of year in Sitka.  It was Friday, July 9, at 11pm, and we gathered along the banks of the channel between Japonski Island and the main harbor area of Sitka with hundreds of others waiting to see the fireworks display that had been delayed several days due to weather. 

An unusual silence fell over both sides of the channel, and on the far shore, as well as our own, we began to see little lights appear, eventually stretching as far as we could see down the docks and wharves.  Candles, and silence.  Fifteen minutes – unusual for any amount of people anywhere to be quiet.  Then, from the far end of Japonski, across from Tomsen harbor, three parachute distress flares soared into the low-hanging clouds, slowly descending with their brilliant red light creating eerie, glowing spheres.   

Three flares, three lives.  We lost three of our most respected and valued people on Wednesday in a tragic helicopter crash as they returned to Sitka from Washington state.  The pictures you have seen here of the Coast Guard helicopters – one of those, quite likely the same people who were piloting them – gone.  Those we count on to save us in our distress, victims of time and chance.  I weep as I write, not knowing the men, but mourning the loss, the pain their families must know.  Peace to them.

Another few moments of silence, the Coast Guard cutter Maple anchored nearby gave two long, sonorous blasts of their horn, and the fireworks began.  The rockets and starbursts, mortars and glittering fountains, all familiar to most who have seen fireworks, somehow made magical by their glowing in the clouds and over the stillness of the waters of the channel.  The concussion of the mortars and the screaming whistles were heard once, then twice, three, four times as they echoed off the warehouses and and hills of the far shore.  The finale shook with multiple booms reverberating all around us, and horns honked, people yelled, and we began walking back to our little boat in the harbor. 

Never thought my bride and I would be walking in the rain at midnight, along the docks of a fishing town, holding hands and enjoying the light drizzle of rain on a 50 degree summer night in Sitka.  Life takes some interesting twists and turns, not all enjoyable, but somehow most seem to fit together to weave the complex texture that is our individual world.

The summer king salmon opening was over at midnight, Thursday the 8th.  Most of the trollers have returned to the harbors, offloaded, and holed up waiting for the weather to improve.  We’ve had a fair stretch of large swells, wind, and fog for much of the opening period, and the general question I hear from everyone is “Where are the fish?”.  It seems we were in the only spot that really produced anything on opening day – the Cape was a bust, North wasn’t good, South was marginal.  People chanced into pockets of activity here and there, but I am led to believe that the “typical” summer king run isn’t happening.  Opinions range from global warming to Obama as the cause – whatever it is, I don’t feel so bad for the relatively small number of fish we caught in our bumbling, beginning efforts.  Some of the best fishermen around only caught twice as many as we did, so that’s acceptable in my book.  Of course, they didn’t release 25 cohoes thinking they were undersized kings like I did – a couple of hundred bucks worth, until I realized what they were….!  Lovie will never let me forget it!

After the last post, we went back down to the Biorka/Hot Springs area and explored some of the twists and turns between the islands.  Monday, the weather turned snotty, and we holed up all afternoon and night with 15 other trollers in the anchorage at Hot Springs bay.  I sat and watched the trees swaying and the wind whipping ripples across the sheltered waters of the anchorage.  A couple of small open skiffs came in from somewhere, deposited people on the shore to go up to the tubs, then anchored close enough for their shore lines to retrieve the skiff when time to leave.  As the wind turned us this way and that, I noticed one of the skiffs seemed to be slowly moving toward the main channel.  As it progressed, it became obvious it had dragged anchor, and was adrift, heading out with the wind and tide to the rocks on the entry side of the bay.  I got Lovie to fire up our engine, went forward, hoisted the anchor, and gave chase.  We caught up, snagged it with a boat hook, and attached a light line to tow it away from the rocks.  Looking back at shore, we saw a figure swimming toward us.  The owner had a wetsuit, had seen it drift off, grabbed a paddleboard and gave chase.  We got a “thanks” when we towed it back to  him, and that was all, but we felt good about it!  Back to anchor, read books, and listen to the wind and rain singing. 

The next few days were spent exploring some of the island passages and bays in the general area.  We sneaked thru Dorothy Narrows at high tide, with inches to  spare under our keel, fished Windy Bay for a big zero fish count, and squeaked back thru with even fewer inches to spare!  We tried to work our way thru the Necker Islands, but the combination of wind and swell from the southwest was too much for my timid blood.  I get really nervous about being in a cauldron of waves and cross swells, with tide running, rocks on both sides, and not knowing the area!  The fact that no other boats were in sight makes me really puckered up, too –no help if it all goes wrong.  I really don’t want to be a brick on the memorial wall at Sitka…!

Now, we’re planning our next move – we can fish Coho or chums – no more kings for a while.  Looks like we may head north with a couple of other boats and try our hand at some Coho fishing in the Cross Sound area.  The trip up is sort of intimidating – a couple of days, depending on weather, off the outside coast of Chichagof and Yakobi Islands.  The charts show a bazillion rocks, but according to a friend, there are lots of places to pull in and wait out bad weather.  Once there, the fishing sounds good – I’m just sort of a scaredy cat, easily intimidated by the unknown.  Must be nice to be a person of undaunted courage, not letting your overactive imagination conjure up wild visions of disaster and failures!

Lovie scared the boots off of me on Tuesday – we were running slowly back toward Sitka with a nine or ten foot swell boosting us along.  I put her on the wheel (she loves to be there!), and I sat in the door reading a book as we worked our way along, well above the random rocks lining shore side of the area – something awe inspiring about being a couple of miles offshore, and seeing the huge swells break on submerged rocks, soar 20 or 30 feet in the air, and subside, leaving a frothy white foam on the surface. 

Suddenly she let out a scream, obviously panicked.  I leaped up to see what we were about to hit, and she blurted out, “Huge whale! Right in front!”.  Well, it was gone by the time I looked – we never saw it again, but a whale twice the length of our boat had surfaced, blown, and submerged about 50 feet in front of us!  She wasn’t expecting anything for miles, and suddenly, there it was, dead ahead and huge!  We both woke up for a few more minutes!

Well, we’ll be sitting out the next few days with everyone else – nasty winds and bad fishing are keeping everyone pretty close to home.  Hopefully it will get nicer as the week progresses, and we can begin the next phase. 

Stay tuned!

The Big One

Well, it finally came  -- the big King opening.   Fish and Game says 6-10 days, and we are on day 4.  How do I have time to write this?  It’s Sunday, and we came back to Sitka last night to unload, re-ice, get a shower, and recharge for 24 hours (us, that is, not the batteries)!  More than half the fleet is back in town for the same, and  the  weather is cooperating fine – blowing 25-30 knots last night when we came in, and is supposed to continue into this evening.  Not impossible to fish in, just tiring.   We plan to go back down among the little islands to the south this evening, and see how many more we can coax out of the nooks and crannies.  Ever look at a detailed chart of this part of the world?  There are lots of little bays and islands, and fish all around.

We were one of the last boats out of the harbor for the big one – Tuesday and Wednesday were frenetic around here, big beautiful boats and old scabby ones with bilge pumps running non-stop, all getting ready for the big lottery of finding the mother lode of fish.  Being new, I had no real plan, other than to go to Cape Edgecumbe or Salisbury Sound, or ??? wherever…

The charter fleet and the commercial fleet both look down their noses at the other, but we have made friends with a really nice charter guide.  He made a comment about the large number of fish they were finding out at Biorka Island, so we decided to try it for lack of better knowledge.  After a couple of hours sleep Wednesday night, we headed out at 2 am for the hour and a half cruise to the island.  It was beautiful weather, hardly any swell, no wind or chop, just radar driving since it was the darkest part of the night when we left.  As we neared the grounds, we saw about 40 or 50 anchor lights – seems like a lot of other people had heard the same report, and all went out and overnighted in Symonds Bay, on the Island.       As soon as you could see your hands, we were all putting gear in the water, trying to fish the same contours, depths, and speed – what a zoo!!  I put Lovie on the wheel, told here where we wanted to go, and to not hit anyone!  Boats were cutting in, cutting across, guys trying to run their gear alone, a regular madhouse.  To top it all off, we all were immediately catching nice fish.  No sooner would  I get a line in the water than Lovie would yell, “You have a fish on your port wing line!”, and I’d pull it up, conk a fish, re-bait, and drop the line again.  From 3:30 am till 1pm, I raised, lowered, conked, gaffed, gutted and gilled, washed, and packed fish in ice in the hold.  Lovie, bless her heart, had a baptism by fire about driving in a cut-throat fleet all trying to maximize their catch.  Cutthroat is a harsh word, these are 95% nice folks, but so are the guys who crowd you out on the freeway!

I learned so much about managing my gear – being efficient and keeping gear in the water to fish at all times is really important when you are in a big bunch of fish.  Ok, before you all get to thinking we sunk the boat with thousands of pounds of fish, we sold 34 kings when we landed.  I was hoping for 100, but would have been glad for 20.  Prices have dropped, as I figured, so this first jaunt just paid a couple of monthly bills, not even all of them!  We hope the season is the 10 day one, as it would give us amateurs a bit more chance to find more,  but we’ll see. 

We fished our way along thru some of the many small islands and bays south of Sitka, including an anchorage in Hot Springs bay – we have to go back and soak in the springs there.     This time, we were too involved in trying to catch fish while the kings are legal, so had to pass.  Friday was nice weather, so we ventured out in the big water outside Biorka – mostly caught cohoes there, but it was fun to get out off the coast a bit in nice water.  I wouldn’t want to be out there tonight!

Well, we’re off again this evening, so stay tuned…!