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!