Fishing Frenzy----A Guest Writer Post

Nelson, my husband, loves to fish.  He has enjoyed every minute of being in Alaska, and we have a freezer full of fish in PA and AK.  Here is his story about his experience dip netting, a method of fishing for salmon that only AK residents of at least one year are allowed to use.



                                                       Fishing Frenzy

Summer is the fishing season in Alaska and it tends to be intense.  Of course, I’ve been out fishing for halibut several times, which is always fun, and have begun fly fishing on the local rivers.  But the big event this year is that I got to go “dip netting.”  Okay, that term may be unfamiliar, so let’s step back a bit.  Dip netting is an ancient practice, beginning with the native Alaskans who have lived here for over 10,000 years.  A typical modern dip net consists of a circular aluminum frame either 4 or 5 feet in diameter, with a gill net attached that looks sort of like a huge sock full of holes.  A 6-8 foot aluminum pole with a handle of some sort at the end is attached to the circular net frame.  Except for the net, the entire thing consists of 1¼ inch aluminum pipe and weighs about 15 pounds.  Dip netting permits are issued to Alaska residents who have lived here for at least one full year, which now includes me.

Not surprisingly, the cost of living in Alaska is much higher than in the lower 48 states.  Groceries and fuel average about 25% above what we are used to in PA.  (One of our favorite pastimes is to take visitors to the local grocery store and watch their eyes bug out when they see the prices.  What fun!)  However, there are some compensations.  For example, there is no state income tax in AK, and residents receive a modest dividend each year from the state’s oil extraction royalties. Imagine, the state government does not immediately SPEND all its money and more besides.  Also, residents are allowed to harvest fish by dip netting or other netting methods for their family’s use, which is called subsistence fishing.  Each head of household is allowed to take 25 salmon by such methods, plus 10 more for each additional family member.  So, for example, Sue and I are entitled to 35 salmon.

One of the well-known characteristics of salmon is that they return to their river of birth to spawn at the end of their life cycle.  It may be less well-known that the five salmon species do not return haphazardly but in concentrations known as “runs,” which generally last for several weeks each.  One of the foremost runs in Alaska is for the Sockeye salmon (a.k.a., red salmon).  They return each year in the last 3 weeks of July to the Kenai River, located about 80 miles north of Homer.  The fish do not enter the river uniformly over that period.   The number of salmon is counted by a sophisticated sonar system located 19 miles upstream from the river’s mouth.  This counting system not only gives an accurate count, but can distinguish between species.  The run may begin with 2000-4000 salmon per day, but then it rapidly builds… 10,000, 15,000, 25,000 per day… at which point it explodes suddenly… 100,000 to 200,000 on the peak day, followed by an immediate reduction to 50,000, and then 10,000-30,000 per day until the run ends.  Fishermen by the thousands are intensely interested in tracking the daily counts of fish online so they can head for the mouth of the river where dip netting is allowed at the exact right time.  Entire families come by the hundreds to net, clean, filet, and process their fish for the coming year.

So, now that you have the background, here’s my own story.  It’s Sunday morning and we’re sitting in church participating in a wonderful time of worship.  Suddenly, the cell phone of our friend, George, goes off.  George is in his 70's and has his phone’s ring volume set very high.  It’s his young friend, Matt, who has called to say that the big run of “reds” is underway at the Kenai River, and he needs another guy to help man his 24-ft boat for the dip netting frenzy.  You see, one man needs to drive the boat, while two others operate their dip nets from either side.  Matt has a wife and five boys at home; so he’s entitled to dip net for 85 salmon.  He runs his own excavation business through much of the year, but like many men in Alaska, he’s often under-employed during the winter months and depends on this source of food to help feed his family.  So, here’s George excitedly talking on the phone with Matt in the middle of worship while his dismayed wife is hitting him smartly in the ribs with her elbow.  George says he’s not able to go but maybe Nelson would be able to go in the afternoon after worship.  I’m skeptical it can work out for me, but Sue – now a true Alaskan gal – says, “Go, go!”  Later, I found our pastor and several others from our church netting up on the Kenai River too.  It’s a wonder the whole church didn’t empty out right in the middle of worship.

By mid-afternoon, we were on the Kenai River taking turns steering the boat, while the other two men operated the dip nets.  The method involves driving the boat slowly down the quarter-mile-wide river close to the banks where the fish tend to concentrate.  The nets are held under the water perpendicular to the flow so that a salmon rushing upstream might swim directly into the net.  They generally cannot see the net well because the water near the mouth of the river has a lot of plankton, making it rather murky.  When a salmon slams into the net, the fisherman has to twist the net quickly to the horizontal position, lift the mouth above the water, and swing both net and salmon on board the boat before the fish can escape.  This can be tougher than it sounds.  It takes strength and agility.  Since these salmon weigh 6-10 pounds, a very large torque at the end of the long pole is created, and then there's the weight of the circular aluminum mouth of the net.  Once the fish is removed, the net is shoved back over the boat’s gunwale (side) and under the water again while the boat continues downstream.  A marker indicates the limit where dip netting is allowed.  At the marker the boat is steered back upstream for about half a mile, following the middle of the river.  Then it’s swung back to the bank for another pass down the river.  During the return upstream, fish captured on the last pass are gathered up and stored in large coolers.  An average trip down the river may yield 2-3 salmon, but when the big schools arrive it can get crazy.  As many as 10-15 fish can be landed in 15 minutes.

Here’s what it’s like on a typical pass downstream.  I was using Matt’s big 5-ft diameter net, which has an extra long pole, while Matt drove the boat.  He’s a big, very strong guy, while I’m a skinny, 65-year-old who has never done this before.  So, you can see where this is headed.  There I’d be, standing at the boat’s gunwale, holding the net several feet under the water, when WHAM a 10-lb salmon hits the net.  Rotate!! Lift!!  Wrestle the net and fish into the boat, which by now is very wet and has several salmon already sliding back and forth in its bottom.  This puts me off balance and I slip on the wet bottom, falling backwards with the net’s mouth above me.  The salmon is badly tangled in the net by this time and is thrashing around madly, while I’m desperately trying to grab it and untangle it from the net.  Meanwhile, the fellow on the other side of the boat has also nabbed a salmon and this madness is being repeated alongside me.  At this point I’m down and the fish is up.  I think the fish is winning!  Matt, at the boat’s wheel, is laughing uproariously like his sides will split.  I’m laughing hilariously, too, because of the shear ridiculousness of the sight.

We fished until 11:00pm----7 hours through the long summer evening.  This period later proved to be the exact peak of the salmon run. Over 194,000 fish were counted that day by the upstream sonar. Altogether, we took 150 fish, each of us reaching his full quota.  At an average of over 7 lbs apiece, that’s 1000 lbs of salmon, a microscopic dent in the 700,000–1,000,000 fish successfully passing upstream each year.  It would have been well worth the trip just to see the look on Matt’s face during the middle of the evening when as many as 2 or 3 fish were being netted at once each time a net was lowered over the side.  He was like a great big kid with a wide grin, eyes gleaming brightly, and happy laughter.  After returning to the dock, we divided the fish.  Alaska is probably one of the few places in the world where this fishing method is still used.  What an experience!

                                         The grandkids holding a dip net

                                                   Fire up the grill!

Family Visit

Summer arrived, at last.  It  happened during the last two weeks of July.  It was touch and go there for quite awhile, but finally, we could declare, summer arrived.   The lupine bloomed for an extra long time because of the colder than normal temps, but finally the fire weed bloomed. The sun appeared day after day, the temperature rose to the high 60's----maybe even low 70's a couple of days, and people's spirits soared. 

Happily, summer got here just as my daughter and her family did.  We enjoyed every minute of the visit and were very busy showing them all the things/places we've grown to love here.  We toured Homer and shopped on the Spit.  We visited the Lowell Gallery.  The kids really enjoyed a particularly creative and extensive new playground that opened recently.  We went to Seward for a couple days.  We visited the Sea Life Center,  cruised on the Bay of Alaska,  visited  Exit Glacier, and experienced dog sledding sans snow.  Some of the family went fishing numerous times and for the most part, were successful.

In the wild we saw moose, otters, whales, porpoises, seals, sea lions, cranes, eagles, puffins and more.  In fact, we even saw a yow!  How many people can say that?  The kids and I were on the beach one day and along came two women, one with a huge, white, long-haired, long-horned animal.  It had a saddle on its back and was being led on a leash!   Of course we had to inquire about it and were told it was a yow, which is a cross between a cow and a yak.  Who knew?  They also had two small goats on a leash.   What a sight!  It was like something out of  Dr. Seuss.  I guess everyone and everything likes the beach.

One of the sweetest days we had though was a boat trip into many of the coves and fjords across the bay.  Our dear friends borrowed a boat and motored us around for hours in and out of half dozen inlets so we could see "the real Alaska".  What a treat.  We saw scenery that was simply breathtaking.  The mountains, the glaciers, the snow fields, the water, the rock formations, the sea life----all of it just amazing.  Around every corner the view was more gorgeous than the last.  And since the captain of the boat has lived here so long and spent most of his life on the water, he could narrate the tour for us with skill and personal knowledge.  It was awesome.  We all loved it.

I think our family now understands that though the scenery here is magnificent and seeing the animals is exciting, it's the people who really make this place so special.  We have made a remarkable number of friends in the relatively short time we've been here.  People are so open, accepting, and generous.  They are not judgemental.  I feel spoiled and pampered but most of all, grateful.   The people we know here have warmly taken us into their hearts and shared their lives with us.  We have repeatedly been offered  the loan of things we might need and even places to stay when we return.  We have been in homes time after time for meals and gatherings.  They have answered endless questions and been willing to share their life's stories.  They have taken us places and taught us things. They have shared their time.

Our family has left.  It was hard to see them go not only because we will miss them, but also because their leaving was a time-marker.  They had been planning this trip for several years once they knew we were coming here.   We were so eager for them to come and yet, their visit means we have only a very short time to remain here.  We look forward to returning home and catching up with folks.  Our house there will be demanding much of our attention for some time, I'm sure.  But I'm also sure we'll be coming back here.  We have two homes now.

                                                   China Poot Bay off Katchemak Bay

                                                           The harbor at Seward

                                           The fam in front of  Exit Glacier near Seward

                                                            Otters--Gulf of Alaska

                                                 Humpback whale in the Gulf of Alaska

                                                  Yow and goats on the Homer Spit

                                                        Beauty on the Katchemak

Summer At The Fifty-Nineth Parallel

Summer is here, I guess. It gets light at ........well, come to think of it, it never really gets totally dark.  The sun rises now before 5AM and sets about 11:30PM.  We need no lamps lit in the cabin until midnight.  The stores and restaurants that  closed for winter in Homer are open again.  Cruise ships have arrived.  Tents and RV's have sprouted on the beach like colorful mushrooms.  The Spit is crowded and busy.  Boats are coming out of dry dock.  The fishermen are doing their thing.  Nelson has been fishing numerous times with great success on the Bay catching halibut but not so much success on the rivers trying to get king salmon.

There have been abundant bear sitings reported, but none by us.  On the other hand, we see cranes everyday.  They have matched up and presumably laid their eggs by  now.  So funny to watch, they step through the yard like they're tip toeing, afraid of putting their feet in the wrong place.  When they come in for a landing their great wings are open wide. They tilt this way and that to position themselves just right. Their long, thread thin legs, normally tucked against their bodies while in flight, are hanging down.  They float down out of the sky like they're using a parachute, landing with a great harumph.

The moose are dropping calves here, there and everywhere, including downtown.  Apparently, a mama birthed twins by the side of a downtown street snarling traffic recently.  We had a calf born at the edge of our yard a week ago.  The calf was up and walking about like a drunken partier within seconds.  Recently I saw a mama moose crossing the street with her calf in tow.  The calf looked all of a minute and a half old.  The mama went across in a very no nonsense way, not waiting at all for the calf.  The calf, however, was not so sure about this adventure as cars backed up, waiting.  The calf wobbled part way onto the road, hesitated, retreated, then started out again.  Mom came part way back to offer encouragement then proceeded back to the far side, down into and back out of a ditch and on into the brush.  The calf took courage and followed her as fast as it could.  When it got to the ditch, it fell in.  All I could see was the water splashing, but soon the smart little thing found his feet and a way out of the ditch by walking inside it to the end where it was easier to get out.  They have to learn fast.  Apparently a mama moose does not baby her babies.  She will defend them though.  People have to be very careful when near a mama moose.

Certainly one can't determine the presence of summer by the temperatures.  Two days ago it was 30 degrees when I got up at 6:00.  There was frost on the grass and car, and the plant I had set out was very unhappy.  Our daily temperatures have been in the high 40's to somewhere in the 50's with a burst of 60 one day!  A local friend told me when she used to go fishing at this time of year there would be ice in the eye holes of her rod.  Regardless of the chill the plants have greened completely.

Neither can you determine the season by what people wear here.  Tank tops, shorts, sandals, flip flops are on many brave bodies, but jeans and long sleeves prevail.  Of course even in winter here, one can see an occasional rebellious soul wearing flip flops or shorts.  I have learned not to gape and shake my head.  But honestly if  you want to wear shorts and tank tops,  you just have to do it at your own chosen time because you'll never have to wear them as a solution to the heat.

Oh yes, one more sign of summer.  The farmers' market opened Memorial Day weekend and will be open on Wednesday afternoons and Saturdays until Oct.  At this market you will find all the fresh produce produced here-------radishes, carrots, rhubarb, beets, rhubarb, blueberries, and rhubarb.  The beets are the size of ping pong balls and decidedly not sweet.  The rhubarb is good though!  And the carrots and blueberries are very good.  It's a small market.

I flipped the calendar to June; so I know summer is here.  With that flip of the calendar comes our one year anniversary living here.  Hard to believe.  It's been an exciting, fun, blessed, interesting, educational year.  We have loved every minute.  But flipping the calendar to June also means there's only six more weeks until some of our family comes for a long-awaited visit.  The pull of home and family is irresistible.  Nelson and I talk daily about all the things we want to show them while they're here.  Have you ever noticed that when you love something so much, you want those you love to love the same thing?  Can't wait.  It's finally summer!

The Homer Mystique

I heard an amazing story recently from a new acquaintance.  It seems her husband needed to change careers for a variety of reasons.  They lived in the mid west.  They decided that since he was looking for a new career, the family may as well change where they lived as well.  Never having been to Alaska, they made a big, bold decision to come here to the Kenai Peninsula.  They sold everything, landed in Anchorage and started driving south.  They had no job. Their plan was to drive all the way to Homer, the end of the road, just to scope out the Kenai and then head back north looking for the town they thought would be a good place to live.  They got to Homer and never left.  That was three years ago!

That's how this place is.  It sucks you in, blesses you mightily, and won't let you go!  At least that's how many of we newcomers feel.  If I've heard one person say we won't be able to leave, I've heard dozens.

There is so much NOT to like here.  The winters are long and dark, the summers very short.  The spring is messy, muddy, cold.  It's very expensive to live here.  It's a long way to/from anywhere.  Beyond objects of art and souvenirs, there is no shopping available.  Traditional entertainment is extremely limited.  The place is overrun with tourists in July.  Gardening is next to impossible.  Animals eat your grass and any semblance of a garden you might struggle to eke out.  Your car is never clean longer than two blocks away from the car wash.  In some places the water is horrible.  You cannot swim in the ocean.  You must guard your small pets from many predators.  Often you can't get from here to there in a car without driving hundreds of miles out of your way.  Heck, sometimes you can't even get from here to there by car at all because there's literally no road!  You get my drift here.  This list is not exhaustive.

So what's up with the draw this place has?  What is the Homer mystique?   I've been thinking a lot about that.  Of course there's the obvious.  The scenery is beyond gorgeous.  Sometimes the air is so clear you can see a hundred miles distant.  Auroras are visible from September to April.  The fishing is incomparable, both salt water and fresh.  The extended light from March to September is amazing.  (at this point we have sunrise at 6:00 and sunset at 10:00 with very long predawn and post sunset light).  Seeing the birds and animals in your yard is very exciting.  The opportunities to ski, sled, snow shoe, hike, kayak, wind surf, snow machine, four wheel, hunt, boat, bird watch are abundant.  It is a nature photographer's paradise.  Great visual art of all kinds is readily available.

Then there are the people, and here's where I tear up.  When Nelson and I were planning this adventure we determined that one of our goals was to get to know the people here.  It wasn't hard.  They are generous, warm, open, and friendly.  If you have a need, they are there in a heart beat.  If they can't meet your need, they'll find someone who can.  They still have people in for dinner----frequently.  This habit has greatly diminished on the east coast, in my opinion, but is so ideal for promoting relationships.  They look forward to sharing their toys with you---snow machines, boats, four wheelers, etc.  They have skills that are unmatched and share them freely.  You need a plumber, no sweat.  You need a backhoe, easy.  
Because services are so hard to get, people here are very self-sufficient, and they look out for each other.

 For the most part, the residents here major on the majors.  How refreshing!  The houses are humble and so are the people.  The weather and terrain, it seems, are equalizers because both are so extreme and unalterable.  No matter the social status or income, everyone wears jeans all the time.  Everyone has to wear X-traTuffs much of the time.  Everyone drives a dirty car and struggles with keeping their house clean.  Everyone has a limited selection of overpriced food.  Life is basic here, and that's very exciting.
If you want to live in a place where you're accepted/welcomed unconditionally regardless of circumstances, income, housing, status or any other worldly entrapment, come to Homer.

Marching Forward

During March the amount of sunlight here in Homer, Alaska increased by three hours.  You read that right, Folks----three (3) hours of sunlight gained in only one month!  And there's still about ten weeks left before the solstice in mid June, the longest day of the year.

Never mind that there's still a foot of snow on the ground in our yard, or that the night time temperatures are still below freezing, or that the daytime temps are still straining to reach the high 40's.  It is sunny from 7:30 AM to 9:00PM, and whoa doggies, that snow is melting.  It is a mud bath out there on the road ways.  Driving anywhere results in your car looking like a rolling cave with mud stalactites adhered to all vertical surfaces.  A new level of head light intensity has appeared.  Now there's high beams, low beams, and barely perceptible beams because of a thick coating of slime.  Getting in or out of the car is an exercise in agility trying to avoid touching any surfaces.  The other day I could have sworn I saw something sprouting on the car floor, potatoes perhaps.

I'm getting the point of wearing X-traTuffs-----all the time.  You say, "But I'm going to church".  No matter.  The seniors, the young people, the toddlers, even the preachers and choir members all have on their X-traTuffs.  Heck, it's only the beginning of April.  We're still wearing corduroys and flannel.  Next week is Easter.  I may wear the one skirt I brought with me.  It will be the first time I've worn it since we got here.  That is, if I wear it.

With the big melt has come rivers, streams, ponds and canals galore on all paved roads.  It's almost necessary to take a water safety course just to drive into town.  The sun is brightly shining, but the wind shield wipers are going full tilt because of all the splashing.  Amazingly, road crews are even now in the wet and cold trying to at least temporarily patch some of the holes.  These crews are very busy.  Last week I thought I saw a Volkswagen floating toward Kachemak City being guided with a rudder!  And the first time we hit one big dip/canal half way to town, we put our arms up and screamed thinking we were in the front seats of a roller coaster.  We most likely will need new shock absorbers soon.

Do we still love it here?  You bettcha!  It's special, unique, fun, amazing, captivating, beautiful, ...............
I am most definitely not complaining.  Just telling it like it is.