This is a log of my adventures fishing around Kodiak Alaska during the summer of 2000. It's been five years since I've done this, but when Adam, my little brother, bought his own boat (pictured below) and needed a hand, I figured I could do it again. Working as well with Zak, my other little brother, and Ron, a friend of Adam's from Canada, we head off to purse seine salmon.
Left port that evening. Gave Kristi (my sweetie) many hugs. Beautiful weather out. Sat out on deck and modified a small hammock to store my gear in bunk. Fun cut and splice and tie, classic maritime line work entertainment.
Was awaken by Adam at 4a to do wheel watch. We're around the Barren Islands, it's as dark as it gets in the summer, and the sea is calm (which is extra nice knowing how bad it can get in the area). Watched the sun come up around 6a I think, and handed it back over to Adam around 7:30a.
Nice sleep in. We're anchored up in Foul Bay, so named for the many places to run a boat aground. Mostly mellow, doing projects all day, I cleaned all connections and grounds for the radio, and it works much better now. Good fajitas cooked up by Ron for dinner.
Boy does Adam like fishing! We all took the skiff up the head of the bay, seeing if we couldn't get a better look at the fish we'd seen jumping. Adam's up on the bow of the skiff like a hunting dog, sharp eye out for any action that may be fish. We can't even fish for them yet, they haven't opened the area, but you can't take the fishing out of the fisherman. We saw them swimming around, Ron for the first time. Saw seals and otters enjoying the bounty. Zak practiced his skiff skills.
Fire up the main so we can suck the skiff up, and notice a burning smell. Look into the engine room and there's a light smoke drifting out. Kill the main and spend an hour trying to figure out where it's coming from. Finally find that the alternator (which charges batteries when the engine's running) is the culprit. Try to conserve electricity and figure out what we're going to do. We disconnect the alternator from the engine (which will make for a pain in the ass when we replace it) so we don't keep smoking. Oh the tribulations of a boat owner... The weather is getting nasty, so we hunker down for the night.
Call Mom up on the radio and have her ready the parts in Kodiak, and head on out. The weather is nicer that we thought it'd be. It'll take us about 7 hours to get into town.
The sea was a little bumpy, and I felt a little ill. No puking though, so hopefully i'll be used to the see in short order.
We got into town around 9p and tied up the the APS (our cannery) dock. Couldn't find anyone to check that it was copacetic, but we're here until we hear otherwise. Got out the engine manuals to see how we're going to get the new alternator belts, and the only thing we could figure is it's going be a pain. With some fresh perspective from Ron, we finally decide to wait until morning, and give Rob, the previous owner of the boat, a call for some advice.
Woke up and tore into the engine, taking the pieces off that we need to get the alternator belts on. A lot of monkey business in a cramped space. Have Zak pick up the part that Mom had ordered for us, and phone around to find the belts we need. Nobody has them! So we have them sent up from Seattle, Gold Streak, to arrive 7p. When they show, we find they're the wrong size! Adam gets on the horn and they send us the right ones, to arrive either 10:30p or 7a the next day. Adam calls and they say they've arrive on the 10:30p, so he and Zak get a cab out to the airport, a $26 ride. When they get there, they find no part, the info on the phone was wrong! Needless to say, Adam is quite irate by this time. We huddle in the engine room and smoke to chill out.
We get the belts we've been waiting for, and begin to put things back together.
There was an opener (a time when we're allowed to fish) coming up today at noon. Fisherman had talked about striking, but word was successful negotiations had taken place, so the fleet was going to fish for a guaranteed $.85 for Reds (Sockeye), $.12 for Humpies (Pinks). After all the problems we'd been having, our making that opener was looking pretty unlikely, not a great was to start the season.
Well, noon has gone by and we still don't have things back together. It's come down to a bitch of a problem. A clutch mechanism that connects the engine to the hydraulic pump, consists of a inside geared wheel, and clutch pads with gears radiating out to meet them. the unit ways a good hundred pounds, and we can't access the parts we need to align because they're in a bell housing. We call and find out our approach is basically what needs to be done, so we keep at it. By 4p, we're finally back in business. Boy, what a bunch of trouble, just to replace an alternator!
We fuel up and head to Kitoi Bay Hatchery, probably be there around 10p. There may or may not be fish there, but at least it's close to Kodiak if anything goes wrong as we get the net wet for the first time.
We make our first set around 10:30p, in no where particular. The seine goes out okay, but we catch a couple snags, luckily getting off them without ripping the net. Because Ron is green, he just has to find out the hard way, and begins hauling gear with a ski jacket on instead of is raincoat. You only make those kinds of mistakes once. The haul came up with nothing but a bag of jellyfish. We laugh about it, and are relieved we made a set without anything breaking. We head south through the night.
Start the day with wheel watch from 5a to 8a, and get an hour nap afterwards.
We slap a set out south of Uganik Bay. It goes much smoother this time, and we catch one lonely Red salmon. Hooray, now we're fishing! And just enough to fulfill one of Adam's many light hearted superstitions. You see, it is good luck and proper that the first Red of the season be eaten and celebrated. Talk to a nearby fisherman, and he's getting the same show. So we slap one more out for kicks, come up with nothing, and head in to Uganik Bay.
Haven't been here since I was 15! There's a cannery at Port O'Brien at the head of the bay. We pull in and it's just as I remember it. Established in 1927, it's a collection of newer and older buildings with their supporting plumbing, walkways, and docks running every which way off the side of a mountain. There aren't may folks there, it's still early in the season. When the cannery in full swing, there's still only about 150 people there.
Hit the cannery showers. Nice old fashioned, hot, buckets of water per minute showers. And on our way back pick up what our childhood minds would not let us forget, self serve soft ice cream cones for (even now) only a quarter. Earlier we would have stacked a huge dollop of ice cream on those cones, balancing the bargain prize like a broom on a finger tip. But these days we're more conservative.
Find out there's a closure for a few days, so no fishing. We decide to go through the seine, to patch any holes we find and make some modifications to the way it fishes. To Adam's surprise, as he was told it was a practically new seine, there are a bunch of little holes, so we spend the rest of the day mending. It takes me a sec, but web sewing skill comes back, and I enjoy it.
There are four other boats tied up, all from Homer, so it was easy to party and relax that evening.
Mellow day, Ron cooks up a phat breakfast. We finish our seine modifications, primarily moving the king ring back 7 rings to purse less of the huge seine we have. I take advantage of the free cannery laundry, and write letters while I wait.
That night Adam and I hit the banya. Situated near a waterfall at the end of the dock, it a rough but functional sauna. We stuff broken pallets and old dock pieces into the 55 gallon drum stove covered with loose bricks. Cold mountain water is piped in to throw on the rocks and yourself. Boy does it feel good!
Head out of Uganik pretty early.
Through Uyak Bay some Doll's Porpoise start playing on our bow. Ron's never seen them, so he's freaking out. I think they're pretty damned cool myself. We hang over the bow and talk to them, waving our arms above the water. The swim up on their sides, eye looking right at us, checking us out. They're a lot of fun.
A bit later we notice the whole bay is full of spouts, the sign of whales. We can see their backs as they swim around, I think maybe they're feeding. We make a slight detour to check out a pod of them. We throttle back and they don't notice us creeping up. We get to within ten feet of them. They're huge! We can see parts of them underwater, their mouths and fins. There were about eight real tight together. We look them up and find they're Minke Whales, averaging 32 feet long. It's real live National Geographic out here sometimes.
We start our cross of the Shilekof Straight, heading towards the mainland district of Igvak. Adam has fished many years in Chignik, just south of there, and thinks we should do well. The weather is fair by Shilekof standards, but there are some rollers. I feel much more comfortable that I did last time in the swell, so I'm hoping my touch of sea sickness will be a thing of the past. The cross will take us ten hours.
Sleeping much of the way, a shallow, dream active kind of sleep. The fishing summer is abundant with such sessions. I'm not sure it's possible to get a similar experience under any other conditions. Maybe a midday nap would be close. The dreams stick with you longer after you wake, maintaining their vividness, a great treat to take the subconscious into the light.
It's a rolley anchor, but we chill for the day. Fishing starts at midnight today, so we'll be fishing through the night and morning. How do you plan your slumber to gain maximum benefit for the graveyard shift work session ahead? I think I'll hit the bunk at 5p.
Finished The Mezzanine, by Nicholson Baker. Enjoyed it's similarity to my own thoughts, yet I remind myself to find my place somewhere more on the "middle way". Thanks for the book Kristi (without whom I'd read even more rarely).
Adam's ready to go. His energy boarders on annoying, but I wouldn't want it any other way in a captain. Bills and loans hang over his head, but more than anything he's just thinking about getting the net wet and killing some fish. He's talking smack, ready to rage on this season. I'm ready to bust my ass too, it's time get this party started.
We were the first ones to Iyuma Bay where Adam was excited to get the first set. We watched as boats came throughout the evening. About an hour before fishing was to commence, Adam hears over the radio a lineup starting for the set he'd been waiting for, but he wasn't included! So we pull anchor and ask around. Seems somebody thought our being on anchor forfeited our place in line, even though we were there first. Adam is pretty mad, but what can he do. There are no official rules for such things, they just coalesce amongst those involved when need be. With Adam being the new guy he wasn't in a place to argue, so disgusted, looks for another first set.
We fish on through the night to morning. It's the first real fishing we've done. Everyone slept in yesterday, so the all nighter is pretty easy. The weather is a bit bumpy, but it's rarely otherwise on the mainland.
In the afternoon, an alarm sounds. We check the gauges and find the reverse gear oil pressure is down. Ah, another mechanical problem. Adam and I bust out the manuals to see if we can't figure how to fix it. We announce that we'll be passing up our chance to set because of the problem, and some fisherman are kind enough to offer up some suggestions. Afraid of making things worse, we have Zak tow us in and we tie up to a tender.
We unload our fish, then start with the easiest fix we found. We climb back in the fish hold and remove the hatch through the bulkhead to gain access to the reverse gear, then take apart the oil strainer and clean it. Seems to have done the trick thankfully, so we eat dinner and head back out.
We fish until after midnight, and we're feeling it. So we anchor up and take a nap.
We sleep for an hour and a half and head out again at 3a. It's getting tough, but once I get past morning I found my body coming to. That's on the sleep end anyway, physically I know very well how weak I am. Ron's even worse. But there's only one way to fix that, to keep working and get buff. So we do, well, work so far anyway.
Zak's steering in the skiff had been declining steadily for the past couple days. During a set in the evening, the steering was so bad that Zak couldn't tow hard, the outboard would turn under the high load. He could drive it too, as it took over twenty turns of the wheel to get the outboard from full right to full left. But it just so happened that this set was our best yet. Zak was very frustrated, being tired didn't help, and it's hard enough to do his job when his equipment is working properly. We talked him into doing one last set though, figuring we could always stern haul if the skiff completely failed. The set was okay.
So, we've had how many mechanical problems now? We aren't sure what we're going to do with the skiff, and we can't fish without it. The area might have closed that night, but was extended. Sell our fish, a good day for us. Plan on sleeping for a few hours.
We overslept and were down for six hours, so the day starts off bad. Have to figure out what we're going to do with the skiff. Adam calls Mom on the radio and has a new part ordered, but we need a temporary solution. We brainstorm and decide to bleed the hydraulic line. This works, we go fishing.
Fishing is good, but by evening the weather has gotten too gnarly for us. We sell to the tender. By the time we're anchored up, the other area boats have come in as well.
Get up at 4a and check things out. Still bad, so we go back on anchor.
This area on the Alaskan Peninsula is really quite beautiful. The wind has blown off the usual cloud cover and the sun reveals an impressive landscape of beaches, green hillsides, a myriad of waterfalls, steep rock faces, and ice fields.
That afternoon the weather comes down some so we make a set. Get a water haul and the sea comes up again. Don't need that, so we play a bit, snapping pictures of the boat in the weather.
The area closes today at midnight. Anchor up and load the seine into the hold for travel in the high seas. On our way the end of the pucker string found its way to the propeller. A real dumb thing for us to let happen, but luckily none of it stayed in the wheel.
At the anchorage we spy a brown bear beach combing on a small island. We get up close and check it out. He or she is a big one for the mainland, blonde and shaggy. It searches through driftwood, batting pieces around looking for something worthwhile. Another one for Ron's Alaskan wildlife experience.
It's dark by the time we head out. We idle out into it as we secure things on deck. The Windigo is an unfamiliar vessel for Adam, it's dark, and we don't have a traveling partner. When we take a solid wave over the bow before we even get to full speed, the decision is made to turn around and wait until morning.
Wake up at 4a, we have ten hours of travel ahead. There are big waves, but the wind's down and they aren't steep, so the ride is pretty nice, considering.
We arrive at my family's old stomping grounds, Ayakulik, in the afternoon. We pull the seine out of the hold, fixed the pucker string, and modify the length of the purse line.
Ron pulls us aside to voice some concerns on his mind. The past few days of fishing were taxing, especially so early in the season with things so new. People got tired, expressions were far from tactful, and feelings got hurt. Ron's never seen work like this before, but his attitude is strong. He just wanted to let us know that he was struggling, but trying his best, and that maybe a couple small things could change so that he doesn't burn out. It was a good exchange, I'm sure we'll all do fine.
It's still pretty tough on the fishing grounds, so we decide early to bed, early to rise.
First few sets are pretty good making outside sets off shore. Adam chased some tide rips looking for the fish, but all we found was kelp. After a few sets of that, we tried some inside for not much. Later we find we did pretty well compared to many. Scary, we didn't do that well.
Sometimes we shut off the engine and just float a bit, to hear the radios better (the engine alternator generates electrical noise), or to just enjoy the silence. Upon starting we notice it takes a few seconds longer for the engine to crank up. Don't think too much of it at first, but then we notice the oil pressure gauge is pegged out. Another problem. Can't we just fish? We start paging through manuals, racking our brains as to what it might be. Ron makes a suggestion that seems unrelated, but it turns out to be the problem. There are some fuel valves that need to be opened and closed for different operations, and we forgot to return them to their proper place. If only all mechanical problems were that easy.
Since the fishing was so slow many boats found lines to wait for a set in. At Bear Rock, we saw sixteen boats, an eight hour wait. What fish that were running would do so in spurts. Zak thought the daybreak set was consistently better. So we plan on getting up around 2a to get in line at Bear Rock, then we'll go off shore so we can slap some out without the wait.
Adam sleeps through his alarm, he is not a morning person. This is the second time it's happened, and he's pretty mad. We'll use Adam's cell phone alarm as a backup in the future.
Fishing is slow, we take our time waiting for some inside sets.
We did catch a salmon shark though. They're pretty big, but this one was smaller, 6 foot, probably 275 pounds. It was great to see, swimming around in the seine like a clip from Jaws. We roll it out of the net while it's still in the water, which affords a very close look at the frightful beast. It really is a classic looking shark, with rows of skewed teeth, big black eyes, and a mean disposition. Damn it though, I didn't get a picture.
Adam did a lot of networking, and decides we should try the east side. We travel with some other Homer boats, to hit Barnabas for the noon opener.
On wheel watch much of the night. Travel is fine. Sleep in, up at 11a.
Start hauling the first set and notice a funny smell, kind of smokey. A sheen on the water, is that from us? Now I can feel something on the corks I stacking. Hydrolic fluid. I look up and see it raining out of the block. It must have rained five gallons on me and the seine by the time we finished up the set.
We didn't too hot that set, but we see things picking up for others as we figure out what we're going to do. This is driving Adam mad, litterally. I'd forgotten how much of a whiner he can be. In between the cursing some work gets done. In the end, a friend of Adam's saves the day, providing gear puller and hydraulic motor so we can replace ours. A long trip to town is avoided, and we're able to continue fishing. Four hours up in smoke.
Fishing ends up spotty with the Red mix poor, about fifty percent. The area closes tomorrow at 9p, so we had planned to fish all night. The weather has gotten pretty nasty though, and the fishing isn't enough to keep us beating around. We anchor up in Boulder Bay late that night.
Head out and make a couple sets. Same scene as last evening, but now the weather is bad enough to send us in for the day. Work on miscellaneous boat projects in Santa Flavia Bay.
Tied up the the Quest, a boat from Homer with crew we knew. They were on anchor and we just hung off them. The weather picked up through the evening. We get reports back that nobody is going anywhere, the weather is real nasty all over. It gets to where the Quest can't hold us both, so we untie and deliver the day's catch to a nearby tender.
With time on our hands, we eat well. I made a cake and Ron cooked up a fine dinner.
Our anchor just won't hold in the 60+ mph winds. We're getting frustrated now having picked up and move the anchor a few times. Adam kicks himself for not bringing a weight we can put on the boat side of the anchor chain to increase the anchor's holding power. He and Zak head off to the beach in the skiff to get a stone that we can sling as a substitute. They return without one, the swell is too much to land the skiff on the beach. Desperately racking our brains for heavy objects that will do, the C hook is the only thing that comes to mind. Maybe a little stupid since we need it to fish, but not being able to sleep has worn us down. After all that, the C hook still doesn't help, but at least we got the C hook back.
We're left with no choice but to idle around all night. I take the first couple hours, and wake Adam up at 2a. Adam hasn't gotten much sleep lately so I don't feel comfortable handing the watch over to him. I wake up Zak, and they both keep each other up for another two hours. Then Ron and I take the next shift. I'm glad I was all right on sleep, because I kept loosing Ron. On Adam and Zak's next shift the weather's come down a bit and they anchor up.
Boy was that a long night. Every step outside you'd be drenched if you weren't wearing you Grundens, so the engine room is full of wet clothes. We'll be getting a new anchor ASAP. I guess Grandpa Rudy saw a picture of Adam's boat and spied the anchor, telling Adam, "Get rid of that, they're worthless!" If only the young would listen to their elders.
Late in the morning we talk with some fishing buddies and we all decide to head for Kodiak. It's actually not much further to hit Kodiak on our way to anywhere else, there are some things we could get there, and fishing is slow all over.
Travel's a bit bumpy as we ride the end of the storm.
Get into town, miss taking showers at Ernie's Laundromat by ten minutes. Splurge on Subway sandwiches. And I mean splurge, $9.00 for fast food, only in Kodiak. Buy some beer, socialize, and call home.
You'd think by now I'd be good at it, but talking with my gal Kristi back home is still hard. It's so easy for misunderstanding at a distance. Can't be miserable while apart, but can you be too okay, are you missing them enough? Got a wonderful care package from her, what a treat!
Take showers, do laundry, and not much else. It's sunday and Kodiak must be run by good god fearing christians, nothing is open.
Run in to an our old buddy Pete off the Advantage, a tenderman who's watched us Barker boys grow up fishing Kodiak. He let's us borrow his truck so we take a ride out to Safeway, get a nip of groceries, pork out at Pizza Hut, and get film developed.
Zak also tracked down a care package that had been passed from tender to tender trying to catch up with us. Mom put it together with a little something for each of us, mail, things to read, and a tin full of cookies. I was the luckiest though with bonus goodies from Kristi, the care package master. It means so much when you've been out for a while.
It's a nice ride out of town. Bad sign for fishing though, we see quite a few boats passing us going back to town. Beautiful sky, on fire with the sunset. Thoroughly enjoy the scenery of my wheelwatch.
The weather is pretty bad, but Adam is getting impatient having not made a set in so long. So we slap one out. It's a bit of a mess, and Zak's towline breaks. No fish either, so we take a nap.
Fix the towline and head back out. The weather is still bumpy, but better. There are a few other boats where we're at, so we have an hour break between sets. Get just enough fish to grind on.
Adam and Zak get into it pretty good. It's hard to be around, especially for Ron not knowing the family dynamics or how seriously to take such outbursts. It comes from Adam unintentionally treating Zak less as a skiffman and more a little brother while we work. Feelings escalate as Zak ambiguously rebels. No communication happened, nothing was resolved, it just blew over by the next day.
First set at 4:30a is bad, so we go back and nap for a couple hours.
Back out and there's only one other boat, so we just keep slapping them out, the most sets we've seen in a day. Barely enough to grind on, but the weather is the nicest it's been.
For fun Adam and I, then Ron and I switch jobs. We also catch a "slick skin lump sucker".
There are so few fish anywhere on the island the tenders are sparse. We travel down to Halibut Bay to sell.
Got behind on the log. Excuses abound, doing too much fishing, tired, doing other things with free time, or didn't feel I was capturing the moment. Something is better than nothing though, so here you go.
More calm seas and pleasant weather at Teachers. Sell.
Halibut bay lineup, one set for 50, next 10, off shore nothing. Went to Karluk Tanglefoot.
Grind at Karluk Beach 13 sets.
Karluk Beach mostly, flatten seine in tide rip at Cape Karluk that night.
Line at Cape Karluk. Outboard start sounding funny.
Sell, travel, party. Kodiak does a fair Independence Day firework show. Ron almost gets deported as an Israeli.
Take apart anchor winch, go through seine.
Send off anchor winch, comes back fine. Skiff looked at, pull off lower unit.
Outboard is not good. Decide we can get more done in Homer. Strange to return home in the middle of the summer. Get to spend time with Kristi as the outboard is replaced. Anchor winch valve is fixed.
Up at 4:30a for wheel watch. An hour and a half later we're at what feels like our stomping grounds thus far in the season, Karluk. There are a couple boats at the beach, and we join them for a few sets.
There is a lot of milling around by the boats in the area (one of the few areas open), but we keep our eye on the action on the cape. Folks have done well out there, us included, and we don't want to miss out. We made the mistake once before of slapping them out when there were more fish running near by.
A mechanical scare, the engine gets loud and puffs black smoke. Wee! In the end, Adam had switched Raycor fuel filters and forgot to open a valve, so the engine was starving. Easily remedied after a half hour of mild aggravation.
On the cape they are doing pretty well, with few boats and enough space to slap them out. Boy what ten days down will do, I'm struggling a bit, my body has not warmed up to the idea of working again. We are the last ones in, and I'm ready. At 12:30a, am ready for the rack (my bunk).
Up at 4:30a and everyone's still anchored, so back down for some more sleep. At 6:30a everyone's gone! Today at noon many new area's open for fishing. Where did they go, what will we do? We go back to the cape, making a set each way, and grind a few offshore northbound. By noon we've gotten enough to not feel skunked for the day, but are wondering if there are more to be caught elsewhere.
The already damaged manual hold pump finally gives out. Back to the old days of slopping up hold water with the five gallon bucket. There are many jellyfish out here to keep us cursing.
Heading up the line, we make a set at Karluk beach for what we were getting at the cape. We continue on.
We find a good chuck of the fleet at Kuliuk and finish out the day there, but not without an unfortunate mishap. Ron forgot to clear Zak's bridal from the pinrail. When Zak came tight, Adam suggested faster than he should have, the pinrail was broke lose. A good section of cap rail, and the section of fiberglass rail where it was bolted were damaged. The pinrails were not meant to take a horizontal load. The pinrail shouldn't be missed, but it did provide a tie in for a lateral mast cable. Scary, but the A-frame will hopefully handle the increased load.
First couple sets are great here at Kuliuk, but damned if we can catch any during the day. Quite a few boats are still here, so maybe it's just spotty like that.
Can't work that scene, so we head back to Karluk. First set is great, and the next few aren't bad either, but we get jellyfish like I've never seen! A great test of Adam's rolling capabilities. We do get the snot bags aboard after quite a bit of monkey business; Zak smashing the bag with the skiff, spilling out jellies while grabbing fish on their way out. And hooray, we didn't even break the rigging.
Boy, the weather sure has been nice the past couple days. Not sunny or particularly warm, but no wind, calm and flat. Didn't realize how much stress the weather had introduced until we got this break. We turn in at 11p.
Up at 3:30a. Our tender is an hour away. Getting ready to sell, Zak accidentally loses a small stainless C-hook overboard. It was useful but not critical to our operation, though one has to cringe knowing $400 went sploosh. Not sure how much more of this Adam, or anyone, can take.
Travel back down to good old Cape Karluk. Only one other boat is there, at least we can be fishing. First set isn't so hot, so we set one the other way. Bam, our best set yet!
Game on. I don't know about the other guys, but it's the hardest labor Ron and I have seen so far. After the fish get dropped in the hold, we pitched them to the side bins, then bucket out all the water, jellyfish, and kelp since the hold pump broke a couple days ago. If we're lucky, we get done before it's time to haul gear again and we can get some water and a snack.
We get enough fish to fill the side bins, then we just start dumping in the middle. Since we can't get the water out, the fish slosh around, a safety concern as they can keep the boat from righting on a bad roll. It doesn't become a critical concern, the weather isn't bad, and the fishing drops off. By 12:30a we're anchored up waiting for out tender, tired, but stoked that the boat is riding low.
The tender doesn't arrive until 7a. We pump off our fish for the first time. Fine by me, sorting is much more mellow than pitching into a brailer from the hold. We end up being the highliner for the day. Spirits are good.
There's no replay. Fishing isn't very good, but we grind on until it closes at 9p. We're low on groceries, so we decide to go to Kodiak, and take our fish in for dock price.
Beautiful day in Kodiak. We unload our fish and scrub down the hold. The good fishing the day before and the sun in the sky must have gone to Adam's head, he takes us all out for breakfast. Nice!
Adam makes a list of projects, and we check them off throughout the day.
That evening me and the bros hit the social circuit. We visit our buddies Eric The Black and crew on the Judy Kay, and random other from other boats nearby. Libations are enjoyed, and fun ensues. Dave Mann gets his head shaved by Corey, the harbor master almost bust us because Eric blasts the Backstreet Boys on deck, and of course, the Barker boys are the life of the party. As our mom asked us to do, we "bathe in brotherly love". Adam and Ron hit the bar at 1a, Zak and I hit the bunk.
Late start as the crew recoups. Adam and Zak start on the seine, Ron and I get groceries. We continue on the seine then turn in early.
Work on the seine and do a few miscellaneous projects. The seine really needed some attention, we get only half way through it. Mending web can get tiresome, especially in the rain, but there's no rain, and after such a long hiatus, I really enjoy it. Got into a productive groove accompanied by old school Metallica.
Get fuel and ice and head out around 11p. Going to Kuliuk because it's centrally located and we're undecided where we really want to be.
Fishing starts at noon. Since we have time, we build a hearty breakfast of biscuits and gravy, and bacon.
Fishing stinks. To keep things interesting, Zak and I switch jobs. To be in the skiff again where my salmon seining experience all began, the memories. The skiff itself is quite a different machine that what I had used, but it wasn't hard to figure. I was surprisingly comfortable and did a good job, though that's pretty easy when the weather is tame as it was. It was fun, but not catching fish isn't, so by 4:30p, we're wondering what we're going to do.
We're at Kodiak's closest point to the mainland, so we jaunt over to Dakavak figuring any time wasted will be minimal. We make a water haul off the cape.
Make a some unenthusiastic hauls for a handful of fish, few of them.
For lunch we take a cruise up into Geographic Harbor. A very unique place. Little islands, sections of rock with regular vertical striations that make it look like it was made of Legos, and mountains with small patches of snow, but large snow like patches of darker volcanic ash.
Watch one more haul on our way out and are not impressed. The weather is coming up, so we decide to head across while the getting is good. We sell on the other side and later find out that some fish did end up hitting where we left. Adam kicks himself for not giving the spot a full day's attention. We continue to east Afognak. Rumor says there will be another closure in a couple days.
We heard they got some outside Duck Bay yesterday, so we head there this morning. First set we get a few but the mix is bad, mostly pinks. We figure there's enough total to make it worth while, even thought there is a small line.
A little excitement happened when the picking boom line the we have the C-hoook on, broke. We chafed through another one earlier, the line is to fat for the drum and it chafes on the housing, but switched it out before it broke. Fortunately the sea was calm, nobody got hurt, and we didn't loose the C-hook or the fish. We strung through tail end of the picking boom topping line, all that we could find long enough and strong enough, through the picking boom block, and will pull on it with the deck winch. How's that for a jerryrig.
Yesterday one of the boats here did well after everyone left. So, we keep grinding on not much until the boat that did good yesterday even calls it quits and we're the last ones left. We had thought of getting dock price in town, but we don't have enough fish to justify it, so we look for a tender a Malina Light.
Outside on the flying bridge, listening to mellow music, taking a lunch break as I make this entry, you know the fishing has to be slow. Zak and Adam are cleaning up the flying bridge woodwork with scraper and sandpaper to prepare for varnish. Ron's cooking up nachos supreme. Earlier I took a ride with Zak in the skiff, then I took the boat and Adam went with Zak for a set. We don't know what to do next, but we do need to get rid of our fish, so maybe we'll just hunt for a tender.
In the afternoon fishing picks up. Week keep fishing until midnight, by which time the fishing has died off again. Hour and a half travel to the tender.
We threw the fish in the middle because we had ice in the sides. The ice was gone by now, so no bonus on the price. Although we could pump out much of the water from the center the sides were not draining. Informing Pete on the Advantage that we would have to pump off seven thousand pounds did not make him happy. Then when we started pumping the two day old fish were showing their age. Pete was very disgusted. It was a bad scene so we leave even before we're really done. We pump out an eight of the hold by hand and pitch approximately one thousand pounds of pinks from the hold, overboard.
I go on watch and travel two hours back to where we were. Seems we had more Reds than any other delivery, so the spot is better than most.
Calm day with drizzly overcast. Same two other boats we fished with last night, so we take turns with a half hour break between sets.
The weather gets pretty nice, but our sets deteriorate. We snag up and have to back haul one. The pucker string broke on another, though we were able to save a few fish. Adam had been talking about how it needed to be switched out next closure, only eight hours away. Finally, our last set was in the wrong spot, so we ended up catching not only our normal generous load of jellyfish, but the ones the guy ahead of us spilled out.
Somehow, we always do it, we catch rare sunny weather in Kodiak, and today is no exception. We find our buddies on the Quest at the transient float and pull up along side. The things to be done are few, so we dig right in. Ron and I clean out the fish hold, Adam and Zak hoof into town to replace the lines we've worn and broken lately. We move slow getting work done, it is just too nice outside. Evening brings social time, we hang with the Quest a bit, and later Ron will hit the bar. I give Kristi a call that lasts three hours, not a noteworthy length in our book. We had a real nice time, there's no other way I'd rather have spent that evening.
We had planned on leaving the beginning of the day, but when Eric the Black suggests we run together, or schedule becomes his, which is to say, late. Sure, little things got done, some groceries, clean out the cooler, some phone calls, but mostly, once again, we all enjoy the sun. In case our enthusiasm for the weather hasn't made it clear, Kodiak is generally a very wet island, making any break from overcast a treat not to be taken for granted.
Shirt off, shorts on, I head for a nearby park to take pictures and read. I almost get too much sun, putting on mellow pink hue that day.
After getting fuel and ice we head out of town with Eric. A pleasant out, we all chill on the flying bridge and enjoy.
Not many people have experienced weightlessness...
Something happens to Adam when he hasn't fished for a while...
We make one haul for two humpies. We travel and watch other peoples' hauls for a handful of fish. We get chatty with our other fishing buddies and find there's only more of the same, no fish.
So, we go on the scenic tour to the head of Uyak Bay, officially looking for jumpers, unofficially looking for flat water. We find a mighty fine spot and throw out the anchor. Adam sets in motion a lemon dill bake recipe for the halibut we caught yesterday.
Wake...
Start off with the Erics in the bay and catch a few humpies. After a few of those hauls we decide we can get that and maybe a few Reds out at what seems to have become our stomping grounds, Kuliuk.
The weather is georgeous, almost too warm. I don't remember a summer ever being this nice in Kodiak. Coolest thing about the sea so calm and the sun so bright is how well you can see in the water. The seine, jellyfish, and best, the fish, are all easily seen, almost like a giant aquarium.
Fishing is spotty, with hauls going from six hundred to nothing in one two sets. We do make a day out of it, as we must, rumor has it there will be, can you believe it, another closure tomorrow.
The slack canery tender didn't arrive until the morning, so it isn't until then that we unload. Fortunately, or unfortunately, we didn't miss out on any hot fishing. Back a Kuliuk we find six boats milling around, only one with their net in the water. Some radio contact conclude it is absolutely dead. We head off to a untried spot to catch at least a little something before the closure at the end of the day.
For three days is an island wide closure, except for the hatcheries of planted fish at Kitoi Bay and Telrod Cove. Telrod is close by, and after this last opener's poor performance, we've got to check it out.
Telrod is a tiny section, just barely wide enough for two seines to work the entrance, with some room to spare for a few round hauls in the cove. There are about a dozen boats here too, which adds to the stress of each set because of the long wait between each try, and the crowding of an already crowded set. On top of all this, the area is shallow, with at least one known good snag. Adam has a lot stacked against him.
At the end of the day Adam is frustrated. The few sets we got to take didn't generate much fish. The area is very spotty, and it happens that you can wait hours for your turn and come out with nothing. In our case we did that three times in a row, while we see that others had at least one good set. Are we making the set wrong, losing them while we purse, at the mercy of plain bad luck? Adam has hours on anchor to think about it.
When evening rolls around it's time for a cold one. Our buddies on the Quest are invited over and we party a bit. All is well, the day's frustrations forgetton socializing...
Back to Kuliuk, the Windogo's favorite spot. It was chosen this time for its central location and proximity to fishing spots out of the weather should it come up as forcasted. Nodbody's here when we make our first set
Wow. As we bring in this particular set the wind is calm. An orange pink spills over the water, a reflection of the glowing sky, itself a reflection of the setting sun. Ocassional beams break the clouds, rays streaming down, edges bright. Our oohs and ahhs subside for only a moment, a rainbow is soon seen painted over the cape oposite the sunset in a perfect semicircle. Comments are made on our being three quarter full of fish, our pot of gold at the end of that rainbow.
Our last set is in the dark...
We splash our way down and anchor up north of Kuliuk at 6:00a. Take a three hour nap then get ready off the cape for the opener at noon. The weather is pretty nasty. Make a second set out for not much, but it looks like the inside guy got some. We wait our turn for the inside, and find not much there anymore. We could fish the weather if there as something to get, but it's not worth it now. We head into Uyak bay where it is much calmer, and find a spot with the Santa Rosa to finish out the day. Kurt doesn't look happen, maybe because of our arrival. The couple sets are better than where we came from, something to work on tomorrow.
We jaunt over to Larsen Bay. Adam would like to phone Jenny about coming out a week early during a closure. It will be a bit crowded, but that way Jenny can ease into her job, when I leave I can catch a tender back to town so they won't loose fishing time, plus I can document the Windogo hauling gear for fun. Anchoring in Larsen Bay is just about impossible, the bottom being a kelp forrest, and after our failed attempt we tie up to the dock for the night.
Heading out around 5:30a. We get to our spot at 6:00a, but it's still pretty dark. That's a relief near the end of the season if you're getting worn down, unfortunate if you want to catch fish, losing five minutes of light daily. We set at 6:30a.
Work it until 1:00p. The fishing has died off, and I think Adam wants to get out of Kurt's way. It's blowing good where we are, gernerating some chop too in just the width of the bay. I bet it's real gnarly on the capes now, and that's where we're headed.
Scratch trying to fish out there, the seine is sliding across the deck with the roll of the sea. We arrange for a tender to meet us where we are, then decide later to hide behind Harvester Island where its calmer.
What to do? We decide to leave, which means traveling in the weather. It won't be as bad as it could be, we will have the swell on our stern quarter. We've got to do something with the seine and usually we'd put it in the hold, but we have ice down there we'd rather not move, and stacking it down there is a pain. We decide on something new. We set the seine out in a line and stern haul it, stacking it farther forward than we would normally to give it more space the stack is lower. For good measure lines are run across the seine and sinched down.
By morning we've splashed our way up to Raspberry Island. The weather is better as we work our way around, but still not exactly pleasant.