La Sonrisa Sails

Seiner Tzoonie River in Metlakatla Pass, July 09

Coming north to Prince Rupert, a highlight has always been sharing waters with the fishing fleet. One of the first books Elizabeth read aboard was FISHING WITH JOHN, Edith Iglauer’s captivating account of fishing with her husband John Daly on his salmon troller MoreKelp. Published by Harbour Publishing in 1988, you might think it’s about a time gone by. But the fishing fleet is still an important and colourful part of life on the coast.

“Salmon are the lifeblood of the coast.” This familiar quotation is witnessed all around us. Yet along with all the intertwined ecosystems that depend on them, salmon are endangered. The days of magnificent abundance are over. Can we humans learn to coexist with the wilderness? Can seafood continue to be the healthful, abundant food that has traditionally been available on all the seacoasts on Earth? And can humans be part of the solution to the problems we’ve created through “reap and run” and the stubborn assumption that bigger is better? These are the questions that plague us even in the midst of awe and delight of life on the ocean.

There are many ways to learn about what’s happening to the health of salmon and the health of the ocean. We’ve been following the work of Alexandra Morton on her site http://www.adopt-a-fry.org The latest posting deals with the Pacific Salmon Commission’s downgrading of the Fraser sockeye run. As juveniles in 2007, these fish were infested with sea lice from the Campbell River fish farms.

Visit Alex’s site to learn more about the ongoing efforts to restore the health of wild salmon. Sign her letter asking that the Fisheries Act be applied to fish farms. Here is a link to Alex’s video explaining this situation: http://www.adopt-a-fry.org/wp-content/uploads/Adopt-a-Fry-100.mov.

Another helpful website is http://www.callingfromthecoast.com This site offers links to wildlife, the Salmon Coast field station, stories and documentaries.

http://www.raincoastresearch.org is dedicated to “using partnered science to unleash Salmon Forest’s capacity to renew itself.” Species of interest include orca, humpback whale, white-sided dolphin, herring and salmon.

All of us who love the ocean and marine life have the opportunity to learn more about it. Over the years La Sonrisa and her varied crew have learned and grown. We enjoy sharing wildlife on this blog.

There is something wondrous, too, about the way of life, the skilled craft, of those who make their living from it: the salmon fishers.

Billy Proctor's troller, Ocean Dawn at her dock

Gillnet fleet in Sointula, a Finish fishing community

“I wonder what the sea will bring!” is often heard on La Sonrisa. One surprise find this season was a copy of the 1995 David Suzuki Foundation study entitled “FISHERIES THAT WORK: Sustainability Through Community-Based Management.” It contains success stories from Alaska where government and fishers together addressed the extreme decline in salmon stocks. From the disastrous 1970 catch of 30 million fish, by 1994 the catch had increased to 194 million. The government supported regionally based projects, relying on local knowledge and regional enhancement associations. “Fishermen were seen as likely to be the wisest and most dependable decision-makers for these kinds of projects.”

There are other success stories, including a village in Peru, a Japanese co-operative, the Skeena watershed committee, the Gitksan and Wet’suwet’en Watershed Authorities interface between chiefs and DFO, a Shuswap watershed planning group, and a clam management board on the Sunshine Coast. In all of these the various parties worked together for the well being of the fisheries. What happened to this knowledge, we want to ask. Who’s talking to whom on this coast?

One of the helpful insights in this sustainability study is what they call “human capital – what individuals and communities build up over time in the way of knowledge, skills, experience, attitudes and values about how to solve problems.” This human capital is one of the aspects of coastal life that we celebrate with awe and wonder.

Sointula boat ways

Ocean Dawn on Billy's boat ways

Getting ready for the fishing season in Lax Kw’alaam

Fishers’ knowledge and care is year round. And sometimes involves the whole family

Daughters adapt to life aboard Sea Legs, a gillnetter from Sointula docked in Prince Rupert

Seiner Tzoonie River, with skipper Billy Griffith

mending the net after a set

bringing in the fish from the net

I remember our delight in seeing the seiner Tzoonie River when son Cosmo was part of the crew. We learned to appreciate some of the skills involved – find the fish, catch the fish, enhance the fishery by careful release of bycatch.
Here are some little videos of the process, from 2004:

Haul in the Net

Seine Net Aboard

Free the Bycatch

Salmon Catch

Sharon and gillnetter, Ganhada, at Dodge Cove

Tidal grid Robert built for Ganhada, accessed at high tide

Cousin Robert Green was a Prince Rupert gillnet fisher all of his life. He adapted to the changes of the fishery, did what was needed to make a fine living on the coast, supporting his family, caring for the resource.

Billy Proctor on the dock

Billy Proctor’s Ocean Dawn

Billy Proctor is a troller. He’s retired now, and ever available to share his wisdom with those who stop by. He’s even made it easy for people to come around; they can visit Billy Proctor’s Museum and the craft/book shop right at the dock. Sometimes DFO is wise enough to consult him, to recognize his “local knowledge” as important input for decisions about the fishery. Billy can tell by looking at a fish what stream it comes from. He’s lived and fished in the Broughton Archipelago all his life. With his experience, new learnings and extensive volunteer conservation efforts, Billy has become a local environmental expert.

July 31, 09 gillnet fleet protest at Prince Rupert DFO

For years there has been strain and distrust between fishers and government authorities. “Made in Ottawa” is the phrase used to describe anything that doesn’t work on the coast. Despite the fact that all involved agree on the need to protect salmon, there is a serious disconnection. Of all the complaints that the gillnetters brought to this gathering, the most serious was DFO won’t listen to us. They have refused all meetings, ignore communications. Here the local DFO representative has come out to listen.

Gillnetters talking to DFO

Summary of local DFO representative’s comments: “It can’t be done” and “We didn’t do it”

Where is the appreciation for “human capital”? And whatever happened to the Skeena Watershed Committee?

UFAW rep Joy Thorkelson and local reporter listen to gill-netters concerns

What are our options?

The commercial fishery has been reduced from 1,400 to 258 boats in a decade, reports Joy. They want to be able to fish the mouth of the Skeena when the fish come in, and don’t trust DFO’s fish escapement count. They want to do their own count, but aren’t allowed to put nets in the water to do it. The strict regulations are influenced by a strong up-river sport fishing lobby that seems to simply want the commercial fleet to disappear. This perception is echoed in letters to the editor, signs carried on boats, angry voices on the dock. And yet what might happen if directions were set and decisions made that included the skill, commitment and years of experience combined in this fishing fleet?

Gillnet boats rafted behind La Sonrisa

Earlier in the summer we were storm bound in Lax Kw’alaams, a First Nations village north of Prince Rupert. While we were there the gillnet fleet came in to wait out the weather. The couple on the red-trimmed boat have been fishing together for over 30 years. They call themselves subsidized fishers, their old age pensions makes it possible for them to loose $10,000 a year fishing salmon. It is their way of life; they love it. And they have learned to live simply, with abundance.

Gillnet fleet in Lax Kwa’alaams

These are the boats that are still fishing. They aren’t bigger and faster. It’s been a long time since the days of “making-a-killing.” Most are a one-person operation as there is no longer money for a deckhand. Though there are challenges--as in how to fish selectively in order to protect endangered stocks—the tradition goes back to Jesus’ day: a small boat with a net and fishers willing to work hard.

Fish for food

Abundance and sharing

Welcome aboard! See how we do it.

These things we know: Local knowledge matters. Working together to find win-win-win solutions is the only way to go. Habitat protection and rehabilitation is the key to the future health of the salmon. Enhancement must co-operate with natural processes rather than override them. Governments must become enablers rather than hemmed-into-a-corner protectionists.

It can be done, if we who love the coast will it!

looking towards the mouth of Toon River

eagle in mist

We often see grizzly on the Toon River estuary. It is a place of awe and drama. Our first grizzly we called “Miss Silver,” because of the silvery sheen of her coat. That was some years ago. She wasn’t very big. She was on the sedges, eating all day just beside where we were anchored. It was an unforgettable experience.

The next year we watched “Clam Digger” digging his way along the beach. He was huge, cracking the shells by banging them on his thigh. Another year we saw a mother and cub and wondered if it was Miss Silver grown up. The cub was learning how to dig for food, but mostly played and napped while his mother dug her long trench along the beach.

Once with son Cosmo we came upon a young bear swimming, who then climbed up on a log and made its way into the forest where another bear was looking out from the trees. We called him “Cosmo’s Bear,” and thought we saw him again the following summer, recognizing the blondish stripe.

Quattoon waterfall

nearby pictographs

We always carefully scan the beach and green areas as soon as we pass the waterfall near the end of Quattoon Inlet. After we anchor at the edge of the estuary, as soon as the tide is high enough, we take the dinghy up the Toon River. Here are some of our Toon River neighbours.

chocolate lily and silverweed

merganser females

capturing the warmth of Indian paintbrush

It is a wonderful experience taking a respectful peek at this grizzly home. Whether or not we see any animals, it is a glimpse of the drama of another species’ way of life. (I remember cousin Bill saying: “I don’t have to see a grizzly. Just to be where they are, to know they are there, is wonderful!”)

In the evening we saw this young grizzly on the smaller beach beside our anchoring spot. He kept looking over his shoulder at something we couldn’t see on the main estuary. “What’s he worried about?” we wondered. We called him Winnie, short for “Wee Winnie,” and enjoyed his presence beside us.

Next morning Thomas was about to pull the anchor in order to catch the current back out the inlet. He hadn’t seen any creatures stirring. One more scan of the tall grasses behind the main beach and there was a bear. Look again and there were two of them!

two grizzlies eating sedges by the beach

The darker grizzly is male - see the large hump on his shoulders

Then Winnie showed up back in his spot of the night before.

young bear digging for breakfast on the side beach

view from the kayak in shallow water

Likely that was his mother over on the main beach, with her new mate. The male grizzly is dangerous to a partly grown cub. He has to separate the mother from her cub/s in order for the mother to go into estrus again. It seems harsh to us as we watch poor Winnie, looking small and hungry, with his mother paying him no attention at all. Slowly he moves toward the big beach, keeping careful distance from the two adults.

Here Winnie is approaching the large male, staying well off the yellow seaweed between them.

The adult pair leave the sedges in the grasslands and walk over to Winnie’s beach.

large male grizzly

“Goldie” – Winnie’s mother

La Sonrisa viewing station

We said goodbye to Winnie as he headed for the sedges behind the big beach

Leaving Quattoon Inlet and back into Work Channel, we saw this grizzly mother and two cubs near the Ensheshese River estuary in Graves Bay.

Often a grizzly mother protects her cubs by keeping away from the main grizzly habitat. (Last year, with son Will, Anna and crew, we met a mother and very young cub on an island, a quite unusual occurance--probably chased there by a male bear.) This mother wanted her cubs away from our boat.