Update 1: Josh joined us for the first part of the tide - he found that he can operate the skiff and pick fish left-handed. But he went in at high water, thinking it was time for some healing rest. Yes, it was. Day 2 of the 10 day convalescence down.
Update 2: my beloved Ambi-Fisher is back in service. Yippee!! Bob spent half of today's tide replacing the throttle cable (and actually, it was the shifting cable that needed the replacement, so that's what he actually replaced.) The poor man - he had to put up with me grilling him to be sure that the other cable didn't have to be replaced as well - did they work as a team? Why did Bayside Marine send two? Was he sure it would be OK only to replace one? I'm so glad he's patient. So - yay! The Ambi is working again.
And it's still early - our total catch yesterday was 1424 lbs and today it was 1189 lbs, bringing our total so far to 4149 lbs. The good thing about having had some disastrous seasons in the past is that it isn't long before we can say "well, at least it's better than in 1972 (when we caught something like 400 fish, roughly 2000 lbs." Soon I think we'll be able to say, "At least it's better than 1997" (8705 lbs - it was HOT all season long and NEVER rained). One friend said he measured the temperature of the water under his boat down and Pedersen Point in 1997 and got a reading of 70 degrees. Darned hot.
The fish just haven't arrived in big numbers yet, though the numbers are building. The ADFG website tells us that 28,000 salmon have passed the tower in the Naknek, 150 have passed the Kvichak tower, and 36 have passed the tower in the Alagnak. They must know the fish are coming, or they wouldn't let us keep fishing on the few that are here. They told us that the total catch estimate for June 24 was 3000 sockeye. If the average is 5.3 lbs and we got 1424 lbs yesterday, then we produced almost 10% (actually, 8.96%)of yesterday's catch. Hmmm, I'm estimating that we have about 0.3% of the gear in the water - I wonder if someone made a mistake somewhere. Either that, or we are darned good.
We all got carded today. It's good to get that over with. We had licenses for everyone except for Trina who hadn't had the chance to get her license yet, so she was on observer status. Before long, though, we got her four-wheeler certified and sent her in for her license. She hasn't forgotten how to pick and just needs to get in the rhythm of fishing from a skiff. She is a very quick study and is better than most at reading my mind, a skill that is really beneficial when working with me in this context when stress and urgency tend to render me not anomic but worse, misnomic when I say the wrong thing and expect crew to do the different right thing. That's asking a lot, but they're getting it.
Lucky news today. It's like running out of gas uphill from the gas station. Erik, Jeff, and Jake had more fish in the nets they were pulling out of the water than I expected. After we pulled in our second net at the end of the tide, Chris took in our catch while Trina and I cruised by the Graying skiff to drop off a crate to use for their final fish, and to check on whether they needed anything (which they didn't), so we just anchored the Ambi and came in. The Grayling crew finally made it in, carrying a heavy crate. I went to check in on them and found that they had to leave some fish in the boat - and they were irritated that Trina and I came in from our boat empty-handed
without coming over to offer to help them. So I decided that instead of asking them to knock themselves out by going to get the other fish on foot, we would do the inevitable and take the ranger out on its first trip, even if only for a few fish. I was feeling a little pressure because the beach gang was waiting for us and in the past, it's been hard on them to do that. They may not be feeling that now, but I imagine it so I rush. That's a photo of The Friendly Ranger, not the killer ranger, Christine, that tried to eat Josh and years ago tried to kill my brother. Twice. As I drove the ranger into the mud, it immediately started to die - too high a gear. A little worried, I shifted down and it bucked its way through - almost like a horse trying to keep its head above water crossing a river. We struggled the 1300' out to
the skiff, loaded up the remaining salmon and headed back in. The photo is taken from where we need to deliver the fish. Note the thickness of the mud that we walk through, carry stuff (including fish) through, and when needed, drive the ranger through. The ranger gets to pick its path because we steer it by pulling the left or right brakes to turn it right or left, respectively. But when I pull on the brakes in this thick mud, or even run it without the brakes at high speed, it starts to lug. In this mud, whether on foot or on ranger, it's best not to stop or even slow down. So as much as possible, I let the ranger pick its path until we get on harder ground and then I start to steer. To make it in at all through the thickest mud, I had to lean as far forward over the engine as I could reach, to try to balance out the weight of the fish and Erik in the tote. You can see the path it went out - follow the orange line. And the green line shows part of the path on the way back. (I couldn't get the whole return path in the photo.)I always heave a sigh of relief when we're headed back in, thinking that at least if something goes wrong (and the list of possibilities seems infinite to me, though it's probably just short and deadly) and we have to tow it in from here, it'll be pointed in the right direction. And I began to wonder about the gas supply - we haven't really used it yet - it couldn't be low, could it? I wish I'd thought to check it before running it way out here... Maybe we could rob gas out of the boats. At least we're pointed in the right direction. [A little farther along] At least we're in range of the inside site - if we have to carry gas out here, it won't be so bad... It was hard to get through the mud even with that little bit of fish, but after taking the zig-zag route (the only route it was willing to take) we made it to the truck to deliver. Then, about 150' into driving it back the 400' to the stairs to wash it down, it died... out of gas. Oh my! Usually, a person doesn't feel lucky when running out of gas. But if we'd run out of gas, say 1000' earlier? Major huge bummer. I was so glad it held out running out of gas until we had finished with all that mud and were onto the hard sand, that I considered it yet another stroke of good luck. This way we could just hop onto the the four-wheeler with a gas can and drive it over to the ranger.
And just to make everyone envious, I wanted to mention that our fast food here is... grilled king salmon. Our grocery store is the nets - we usually get at least one 7 lb king and since Bob sharpened our splitting knives and made a pump work to bring water 600' from the pond behind the cabin (the one where the pair of swans visits) to the cliff, it's an easy matter to fillet them. Then I just pop them on the grill and... well, we can still go through about 10 lbs of salmon a day. That's filleted. Yum. King salmon: Alaskan fast food.
Next, I know I'll have to wait till the end of the season to give the definitive word on this, but I know many women... of a certain age... have noticed that it's harder to lose weight because of changes in metabolism, as in "I just can't eat as much anymore." But so far, each season my metabolism gets a shock and thinks it's running a 25 year old's body (who else would be fool enough to do this?) and it remembers how to burn fuel. I think I eat like the guys - and you should see how high they can pile their plates. So I'll tell you at the end of the season whether unrelenting physical activity shocks a 55 year old metabolism out of its expected sluggishness. For years, people have said we should abandon fishing and run this place as a fat camp.
Finally, David is coming in tomorrow!!! I think some John Philip Sousa music is in order.
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