2022 Salmon Recap

Light and color, rain and winds, people and salmon: These are the elements of our summer lives, ever moving and flowing as all the world does. Our existence during these months is intertwined with salmon, and since we each operate in separate but overlapping orbits during the season, here are our recollections one at a time below.

June

Tollef: After a slightly crazy month of May with skiff welding and a kelp harvest and a run to town and back, June should have been easier! But sort of not really, because we had two sites to open up without crew and then had to be ready to fish my site together, Broken Point, on June 9th for the first short opening. All doable but we were busy, fueled by the lengthening daylight. We had tossed around the idea of not fishing Broken since I was again heading off to Bristol Bay to crew there, but I stubbornly wanted to be at my site. For one, it catches a lot more reds than Trap 6 does, being on the south side of the bay, and two, I wanted it ready to go for my return, having the fishing set ready and waterline hooked up and everything basically woken up. It worked out - we highlined the bay for that opener and then I took off in a small float plane to Bristol Bay. What a transition, from beautiful green Kodiak mountains to low gray Naknek in a dusty boatyard prepping a whole different kind of fishing operation. But it’s really interesting to learn and be challenged in different ways, like living on a nice 32' jet boat with three other guys and picking 20,000 pounds of reds in 4 hours with covid-like symptoms (so frigging sick!). In one way, it was like my vacation to not be a skipper making decisions and be able to just put my head down and work picking fish like mad - literally you get covered in blood and scales from popping a red out every couple of seconds. For some of us that's relaxing!

Adelia’s up and coming crew members, Cecilia and Juliet, celebrating the first fish of their season

Adelia: After Tollef left, June was the sunny month, the solstice month, with calm weather, many bright skies both night and day, and beautiful warmth that brought our outdoor gardens of leafy greens to fruition early. What a smooth ease into the salmon season. We were allowed many days of fishing due to the healthy salmon escapements in the Karluk river, our mainstay, and I was so thrilled to share them with my family - my three nieces, my sister, and my mom - the six of us operating as “Team Trap 6” during that month (Trap 6 is the name of my fishing site - you can read more about that here). I’m looking forward to the day my oldest niece will be big enough to truly fish alongside me. It was an honor to have mom back out again in this place she and dad spent so many years pouring their energies and love into, and I can’t really think of anything better than fishing with my twin sister. We especially loved the 6:00 am picks, when we’d leave everyone else on shore still sleeping and get a precious dose of sister time, interrupted only by the occasional blue-green backed sockeye salmon coming over the rail. June is always a mellow time of year for my fish site, and this season proved no exception - fishing was actually really slow - but it felt perfect in that it allowed my family time to truly enjoy the month.

The ladies of Trap 6 - Mom, me, my sister and nieces - at the drizzly solstice party

July

Adelia: Kicking off the month was a July 4th bay-wide celebration of the 100th birthday of the most magical homestead I know, enchanted with gardens, pocket greenhouses, guesthouses and a banya adorned in stone and mosaics, all handmade and gently placed in a protected corner of the wilderness.

My family switched out with my two brand new crew members for the beginning of our busier fishing season, July 6th, and I put back on my teacher’s hat. It’s been quite a while since I had green crew and I enjoyed the process of remembering what tips and tricks to impart, how to inform without overwhelming, and how exactly to teach all those actions we do unconsciously - how to extricate a salmon from the web with speed, how to tie all the variety of knots we use in a hurry, how to keep an eye on the motion of the water and force of wind while focusing on the task at hand, how to deal with jellyfish in the face or eyes, all not only when it’s calm but also in big waves while boats are bucking up and down, we’re tired, and lines are under pressure. What I didn’t have to teach was the joy of living in this beautiful place, the desire to work hard physically, or the skills that build a strong, supportive team. Megan and Nell brought those qualities to share, and as a result we had a marvelous time with laughter, grace and grit permeating our experience.

Tollef: I was bummed to have missed the 100th bday party of Mush Bay and all our friends but with some sleep deprivation and nets to haul I didn’t have much time to dwell on missed experiences. Focusing on the task at hand, we fished through some monster storms in the Nushagak district and jockeyed with other boats for position to catch fish. A blur of repetition, similar to commuting through rush hour traffic, but with the added thrill of salt spray blowing into my face and the satisfaction of feeling my body worked and challenged. Knowing it’ll all be over in 6 weeks helps sustain the madness of The Bay. Our season was cut short when our main hydraulic pump blew up, which controls everything from steering to the reel for hauling the net to the RSW for chilling. Instead of putting a feather in our cap for the last week, we got towed to Naknet by a tender and hope the mechanic could get us going soon. Nope, those parts and a new unit were not available in that part of the world. Season was over. A good one, but not the great one we had all hoped for. Still we had a good time and I’d fish with any one of those guys on deck and the skipper, a rare one who treats his crew very well yet still works the boat super hard. So many stories I could recount……like the tenderman on a crane broke the pin on the level wind by being careless swinging a bag out of the fish hold of our boat, or seeing belugas wild in their habitat, or hearing about friends’ epic seasons and the tragedy of other boats catching fire or having accidents. Happily, I got boots back in Uganik in late July, soaking in the greenery, the abundant wild berries and plums in our greenhouse, and the company of our Uganik community.

Reunited in Uganik! From left to right: Tollef, his crew Maddie, Adelia’s crew Nell and Megan, Tollef’s crew Chase, and Adelia. Thanks to all for their great attitudes and hard work!

August

Adelia: While the learning never ends, August gave us the opportunity to get more into a rhythm. We were fishing nearly the entire month, due, once again, to healthy salmon returns to their nearby natal streams. We had some huge Southwest winds that drove the waves high and wild on our side of the bay and kept us from fishing a couple of times for safety reasons, and the rain came down such that I don’t think I had to water the gardens at all during August! Our catching never amounted to anything spectacular, but we enjoyed the steadiness of the routine of being on the water daily, of picking fish, returning to shore for a rest and a meal, and picking more fish nonstop. By the end of the month our inside jokes were honed, our back and arm muscles were ripped with veins almost exploding off our biceps, and our dreams were filled with fish in the nets.

Tollef: August was the people month, back in the groove at Broken Point. My mom came out for her 3 week trip and some of my crew showed up at the same time. Indeed, time to teach and start running gear, fortunately Maddy had already learned a couple of knots and she was on track for success. About 10 days later, my friend and returning crewman Chase, also a MN-fella, showed up after Bristol Bay to help with the potential big hits of fish and stormy weather. But neither amounted to all that much so it was relaxing with an easy going crew and all the good food that accompanies having people with time and energy to put creative energy into cooking. Not like in the Bay where a protein bar of some sort would be your meal for a while.

Megan and Adelia and a skiff full of fish

September

Adelia: Normally we look forward to September as the time of the robust and acrobatic silver salmon paying us a call, of darker days and nights supporting us in reeling back our schedules to a more relaxed pace, giving us time to relish the season we’ve just put in. However, this year we were abruptly closed to fishing completely on September 5th due to low silver salmon returns statewide. This is unprecedented and causes are being sought. Since our fisheries are managed so well for sustainability in terms of the harvest numbers allowed, and since our Alaskan habitat is pristine, we suspect oceanic changes as the cause of the low returns. Fish and Game was still able to ensure a sustainable number of the salmon spawned, but commercial harvest had to be curtailed. Philosophically, of course, we are 1,000% in support of this kind of management, but it wasn’t easy on a spiritual level to have our season cut short. Instead of easing into fall, we had a speedy camp close-up so that we could get our crew back to town before another storm came in and prevented them from traveling. Things are put away but it just felt strange not to keep fishing for a couple more weeks. The early closure did, however, allow the two of us to reunite at our home earlier than normal, something we wholly look forward to, always. More updates on our fall are coming up soon on the blog.

Tollef: Adelia about covered it, an abrupt end and for sure. We skiffed the crew to town, but most of our people didn't get the memo about how it was going to be a 3 hour skiff ride and to dress accordingly. We did think it was a lot warmer than when we normally are making the trip in Fall/Winter/Spring, but it’s not like getting in the skiff to work hard fishing. It's a lot like mushing sometimes, out there exposed to the elements with a head wind hitting you in the chest and face for hours. We were all a little chilled when we got to the dock, and that stiffness plus adjusting our legs to pavement after a summer of beaches made our walk down the roads of Kodiak from the harbor to mom’s house look like we were a herd of arthritic Tin Men. So much for ending the season on a heroic high note!

Sunset at Trap 6 on the last day of our season, September 5th. Ah, it’s hard to leave this view!