Opening Day Snow Goose Hunt

  Snow goose season in Idaho kicked off with a bang... well, lots of bangs.
  Some of the boys helped me set up for opening day and it appeared like it was going to be a good one as we shot 5 snows while setting out the decoys the night before. We were legal to shoot snows just could not use unplugged guns or electronic calls. That made the next day our official opening day.
  Larell, Terry, Luke, and myself packed batteries, sound systems, and decoys from pitch black to the brightening of the morning skies. We were still racing around with last minute set up when legal shooting time sprang upon us.
  "Hey guys, get some shells in your guns," I said while connecting battery terminals to the vortex machines. "Any bird in now can be shot at."
  I crouched in a tulie (cattail) patch near the blind with my new hunting puppy, Halibut (Hali). I had been working for a month in Alaska trying to get her comfortable with gun shots, but she was still a little too nervous for me to stand in the blind and start banging away over her head. I wanted the first day to be a break in for the pup.
  "Peep." The morning stillness was broken by a single peep of a snow goose.
  "Single! Coming right in," I whispered to the guys in the blind. "Get this one."
  I watched holding Hali as the grey colored goose dropped down to just above the decoys and swooped right over the blind..
  Not a shot.
  What the...?
  "You guys need to shoot the goose," I said above a whisper with a little frustration in my voice.
  "It's a speckelbelly," one of the guys whispered from the blind.
  "No, it can't be. It is peeping like a snow goose," I whispered back, "Its coming around again. Shoot it!"
  The little goose once again swooped right over the blind and not a shot fired. I really wanted it to happen as Hali was glued to the bird peeping and soaring right above us.
  The little goose made a circle out past the pond and dropped right into the decoys just a stone's toss away from myself and Hali. Hali was glued to the bird. I did not move as we were right in the open to the goose now.
  "Someone bring a gun over here and shoot this goose," I whispered in desperation as loud as I could without spooking the now very wary bird.
  It wasn't long until I heard shuffling in the tulie patch behind me. Luke came sneaking to me with his gun.
  "Are you going to shoot that goose?" I asked, still holding Hali tightly.
  "It is a speck. Can't shoot those now," He replied.
  Larell came sneaking through the tulies as well. With him was his trusty pair of binoculars. He handed them to me.
  I cranked the focus on the goose. It sure did look somewhat like a speckelbelly goose. But... it totally peeped like a snow goose.
  "Ok, I see what you guys mean. It does look a lot like a speck," I whispered to Larell, handing back his binoculars. "Maybe it is a cross?" Meaning one parent a snow goose one parent a speckelbelly. We had never heard of such a thing, but in nature you just never know,
  Luke and Larell crawled back into the blind and it was not long before a flock of snow geese dropped out of the brightening sky and into the decoy spread. I held Hali tight and was happy to see the doors drop open and guns come out blazing. The boys even managed to shoot a goose for Hali.
  I was a little dismayed to see the grey goose jump out of the decoys and fly right past the blind as the boys blasted away at the snows.
  Hali was not sure of the bird on the ground. She sniffed it and nibbled at the wing feathers but would not try to pick it up. That would come in the next few days.
  We had a good snow goose shoot the rest of the day, but that first bird still bothered all of us.
  I was in bed later that night when my phone chirped that a text had come in. I rolled over to see Larell's name.
  It was a picture of the little goose that had landed in the decoys... I mean it looked like the very bird.
  "This is a juvenile blue goose," Larell texted to me. "I think we passed up the only juvy blue goose in the history of Idaho!"
  A blue goose is classified in the snow goose family and is legal to shoot during any snow goose season.
  I laughed to myself as I forwarded the text to Luke. I knew he would get a kick out of that as well, as he has the only mounted blue goose from our group hanging on his wall.
  "At least I was not loosing my mind hearing a snow goose sound out of that goose," I texted back to the guys, "I told you to shoot!"
  I was just ribbing them. I'm thankful to hunt with a group of guys who would rather pass up the first shot of the season to stay within the law then to jump quickly at a maybe situation.
  The season was officially under way. I would hunt for the next 17 days straight and the little brown dog would amaze all of us with her quick learnning skills.

the juvy blue goose

Tribute to One Of the Boys

                     
  I hung up the phone and felt a little lost. Wayne had just informed me that one of our running partners, fishing friend, and just a great guy to hang with had given up the fight for life, after battling a long time with physical complications which turned to gangrene, and that the fatal end.
  Mike also grew up in Idaho. He worked on the family farm near Lewiston. He was proud to be a farmer and felt his life would always revolve around dirt and tractors.
  Mike dreamed big and was into debt big time during the skyrocketing interest rates of the Jimmy Carter administration. Mike went from Millionaire farmer to broke overnight and fled to Alaska.
  Mike set himself up as a trucker hauling winter freight up the "Haul Road" now called the Ice Road. He invested in other trucks and made quite a businesses until four boys came along to fill up his life.
  Mike gave up the trucking and went into sports programs around the Anchorage area and was known as the one starting the Great Alaska Shootout basketball tournament.  The college program was seasonal so Mike came to South East Alaska in the summer to follow his outdoor passion and took up summer Troll fishing in Sitka.
  I am not sure where I first met Mike, but it was probably at some other persons house during the college basketball playoffs. All the fishermen would find invitations to someones house for a day of fun cheering on our favorite teams.  Mike loved basketball. He coached the Sitka college team, and several high school teams.
  Mike fished an old wooden boat named the Albo. It was on its last legs but mike found creative ways to make the old girl keep chugging along.
  Scotty Miller and I were running the ocean in our boats and it didn't take long for Mike to find a way into our little group. We would find ourselves in town during a quick turn around and would always find ourselves at some restaurant. With Mike there was always fun stories flying and lots of laughter. We would all be so exhausted from days and days of pounding the ocean 19 to 20 hours a day, but would find ourselves laughing and laughing at the crazy things we would catch each other doing.
  I remember sitting laughing over a meal with Mike so horse of voice he could barely talk. We had been fishing South of Sitka near Biorka Island and Mike had decided to anchor up behind Biorka instead of running the three hours back to town, even though the wind was predicted to blow. He snuggled the Albo in tight to the kelp in the back of Simon's Bay and sacked out for the night. The wind began to howl and his little anchor began dragging across Simon's Bay. Other boats were anchored nearby and Mike was in danger of smashing into them. He quickly raced to the bow of his boat with his engine running to pull anchor. In his dragging across the bay his anchor had picked up a huge ball of kelp. The kelp made the anchor too heavy for his winch to bring the anchor off the bottom. Mike was in trouble. All he could do was to grab the anchor cable and start pulling with all his might. People in the bay that night swore there was a sea lion bellowing its lungs out in the dark storm that night.
  We found out at that supper that it was Mike Bellowing at the top of his lungs to help heave the massive load of kelp and anchor off the bottom. It took him a week to get his voice back. Every time I go near Simon's Bay I think of Mike that night.
  Another friend, Donnie Zimmerman came along and was quite an addition to the group. Along with Mike, Donnie was a barrel of fun. We ran the ocean fishing hard but also finding time to enjoy the company of each other. We worked our way up the coast to towns like Pelican, Elfin Cove, Hoonah, and soaked in hot springs in Tenekee, at White Sisters, fought off the nasty sea lions of Khaz Bay, We would scatter each day across the ocean fishing for ourselves, but always in radio contact. Many nights we would anchor with our poles up and our boats tied together for a meal together. We would send our laughter across the dark quiet hideouts.
  It was a wild time for all of us. We worked so hard, but also enjoyed so much each other company, even if it was just voices over the radio waves.
  Donnie passed away some years ago and now Mike has joined him to fish the crystal Sea of Heaven. For Scott, Wayne, and myself our days at sea are still being lived our stories still being told, and belly laughter still shared around the tables.
  My friend Mike, may the winds blow lightly and the seas always be calm as you sail through eternity. May your lines be filled with fish and most of all, may your anchor hold each time it is set.

Duck Hunt South East Alaska Style

  My text read, "Looks like no rain on Saturday. We should take my son and try to get a duck."
  Matt and I have hunted ducks for several years up here and I don't think we have had an easy hunt yet. I was a tad bit skeptical about taking his nine year old son. Could he make the hike into the lake we usually hunt.
  "New spot. Easy walk," came the next text.
  Ok, now my interest was really on high alert.
  "I've got my zodiac skiff on Mike's boat but we can swing by in the morning and get it," I wrote back.
  "Won't need it. We'll take my big boat. I've got a kayak on top," Matt answered back.
  "Ok, see you at daylight in the morning," I quickly replied.
  Darkness was still heavy on the mountains when I met Matt, his son, and his Father-in-law next door. They were busy getting breakfast... doughnuts and coffee.
  We chatted our way to the end of the road boat ramp and then had to wait our turn as it seemed the entire island had decided the weather was good enough to get out hunting. Most of the others were hunting deer as the rut had began last week.
  Mat piloted the boat in the grey of the morning through the maze of islands and water channels. He did a great job of staying off rocks and sand flats... not an easy task in the area we were to hunt.
  We pulled into a nice sheltered cove and Matt idled the big boat to the shore. As the nose of the boat reached the beach I jumped off to catch the boat and immediately filled both of my boots with cold ocean water.
  "Wow, It's deeper here than it looks!" I exclaimed to the others. "let the boat get in a bit closer before you jump off!"
  The guys unloaded our gear off the boat as I dumped my boots and wrung the water out of my socks.
  Matt pulled the big boat out to the center of the cove and dropped the anchor. You really don't want to return at the end of a days hunt to find your boat high and dry on the beach when the tide ebbs out.
  Matt paddled back to the beach in his kayak and we dragged it high into the trees above tide line. "Just hope the bears leave it alone," our thoughts echoed.
  Now the work begins. We will have to make a hike into the underbrush and up a small mountain to find a little lake Matt had saved onto his phone GPS. None of us had hunted in this area so it can be like looking for the needle in the haystack type of deal.
  Every so often we would stop to let Matt bring up his GPS to see if were on the right course. We were kind of wondering around looking for a muskeg that would lead us to the lake.
  After topping a brush covered hill we made our way down into the muskeg, and from there easily found the lake.
  According to Matt, one of his friends had hiked a little pram skiff into the lake and stashed it out. It did not take us long to find it.
  Mallard ducks flushed off the lake as we neared, a good sign for sure. I tried to build excitement in Matt's son by telling him that all these ducks should try and come back to the lake as the day progressed.
  We turned the skiff over and launched it into the lily pad covered lake. We had carried a paddle from our boat and with the one in the skiff started making our way to a little island in the lake.
  Water began spurting into the skiff.
  "Matt, we are taking on water quickly from under your seat," I quietly informed Matt.
  He stopped paddling to look. Water was gushing in through a hole that looked about like a bullet hole. Hmmm...  It was a race to get to the island before the little skiff filled with water and sank out from under the three of us.  We made it with a little free board to spare.
  We dragged the skiff onto the island and turned it over. The hole was not a bullet hole, but rather, a bite hole from a brown bear. We could see where its ring of teeth had bitten into the aluminum boat.One of its big canine teeth had punched right through the hull. Matt found a stick and jammed it into the hole. Problem solved for now. The hole did not leak enough the rest of the day to warrant any concern.
  Not only had Matt's friend stashed the boat on the lake, but he had a couple dozen duck decoys stashed on the little island as well. A real treat for hunting a hike-in lake. Matt and I usually hike in two duck decoys, one tail vibrating, and one wing spinning decoy. Even that few of decoys can become very heavy on a several mile mountain climb.
  Matt's son had never shot a duck so the order of the day was to see if we could get him his first duck.
  The first flock that came in did not present him a shot. Ok, the old men got jumpy and shot them before he could get his safety off and find a duck.
  The next one was a single duck and Tyler made a great shot and got his first Mallard duck. We were all proud of him. It was so special for him to have his grandpa there to wittness it.
  A few more flocks came in and we managed to get some more, but the day was made when Tyler got his duck.
  Darkness comes so early here that by noon we had to start picking up the decoys and begin the whole process of boating, hiking, boating, and then anchor pulling and back to the beach to load everything.
  We pulled crab pots on the way home to finish off a great day.
  Nothing comes easy in South East Alaska. In the lower 48's a duck hunt is spent mostly in the blind hunting. Here, most of the day is getting to and from the blind and just a small amount of actual hunting.
  To be able to see some of these little out of the way places that even most Alaska residents will never see, is worth all the effort.

              Kayaking from the big boat to the beach

 

setting decoys

A Deer Hunt Turns Into a Fishing Trip

  I often tease my wife, who loves hockey, that she is just watching a fight, and suddenly a hockey game breaks out! I kind of had something like this happen to me this week. 
"You interested in going on an excursion deer hunt on Monday?" A friend asked me.
  With a lead in like that he had me hooked before he paused for me to reply.
  "Let me think... Yes!" I exclaimed, without even trying to get the details.
Jim is one of our local hunting guides. He guides for bear, goats, and deer. A hunting trip with him is a learning experience I will never turn down.
  We loaded a skiff onto Jim's big boat and headed out Monday morning early. We headed South to Redoubt lake and tied to the mooring buoy. We then unloaded the skiff and rowed to the beach. At the beach, we hauled two loads of gear up over a hill to the lake we would be hunting. Jim's Son-in-Law packed the heavy outboard motor as he is the youngest of the bunch. Jim and I lugged the skiff up the muddy, rock piled, tree root infested trail to the lake. We were both puffing as we arrived.
  "Look at the salmon jumping!" Jim said.  Big Coho (Silver) salmon were launching out of the calm water into the early morning air in silvery sheets of spray.
   "I've got a couple of fishing poles and some spinners, if we want to try for some fish," Jim said.
  I'm never one to turn down a good tussle on a fishing pole, and quickly dug into the boat for the poles. Jim dumped water out of the spinner tackle box... hmmmm I thought to myself. He handed me the box and I looked at a rusty mess with a little bit of orange color mixed in. "We call them rusty orange," Jim smiled.
  The first spinner I took out of the box had no hooks at all... rusted clean off! The next one had no color on the spinner blade, just a rusty chunk of metal. The next one had a blade and one very rusty hook of the treble hook.
  "I guess this will have to do," I commented while tying it on.
  My first cast was blasted by a big Silver Salmon. Nothing. I cast back and immediately hooked a big fish. With only one rusty hook of the treble, I eased the big fish to the side of the skiff. "Wow this is going to be tricky," I told Jim. I fought the big fish for a long time to make sure it was very tired, as we had no net, no gaff hook, or any other means of getting a slimy fish over the side of the skiff.
  Jim worked his fingers carefully into the gills of the fish and slid it into the boat! "Wow, look at that beauty!" we both exclaimed, "It is as bright as an ocean silver.
  Once salmon run from the ocean into fresh water their bodies start deteriorating.They grow a huge hook nose and jaw, their flesh turns dark and their skin starts turning dark brown to reds.
  This fish looked like it was still swimming in the ocean.
  Now we were excited. These are eating fish! The deer hunt went quickly onto hold and we blasted the water of the little lake with rusty spinners.
  After a few more fish, Jim suggested we stick to our plan of looking for deer. We ran to a muskeg he had hunted in the past and made a hike through it. No deer but one of the most spectacular places I have witnessed in Alaska. Morning frost laid thick on the muskeg and a haze of fog lifted revealing high mountain peaks capped with snow in the background. It was stunningly beautiful.
  We saw fresh deer tracks in the frost and called a bit on the deer call but they played smart and stayed hidden in the thick forest surrounding the muskeg.
  At about 1:00 pm we decided we had better work our way back to the lower end of the lake and start portaging our gear back to the big boat. Darkness comes early in the winter and non of us wanted to take the big boat through the rock piles back to town in the dark.
  The temptation of the salmon soon overcame our good judgement and we were back to casting for Silvers. We managed to catch a few more before leaving the lake and had a blast doing it.
  We were nearing town when we started spotting whale blow spouts. Jim, being the good guide he is, eased the boat near the whales and cut the engines. We drifted in the beautiful sun setting calm water with whales blowing all around us. There was not a ripple on the water and the whales sounded like huge bulls bellowing their breath's as the enormous spouts of water showered the bay.
  We slid into the harbor at dark and had to agree that this day was nothing short of spectacular!
  Very few places are left in the world where you can go catch salmon as fast as you want, hunt deer, and watch whales, and never see another person! Oh sure, there is some work involved in getting to these places, but the end result is more than worth it.
  Yes, we went on a deer hunt and a fishing trip broke out.

                          One of the dark Silver Salmon Caught on the trip

Diving for South East Alaska "Gold"

  I look at the weather report; Storm warnings. Winds 45 knots gusting to 60 knots in coastal areas, One hundred percent chance of rain, with up to one inch in twelve hours!
  It must be dive season.
  Last Monday and Tuesday was the opening of the South East Alaska Sea Cucumber season, or as some of us divers refer to them... Gold!
  It is money laying on the bottom of the ocean. All one has to do is swim past and pick it up.... Simple enough... Yeah, right.
  Mike and I met at the store next door at 5:00 am for coffee and doughnuts. After eating, we headed to the boat and off to our local dive area.
  I have not really been excited for this dive season. The cold water, stormy weather, and last year's rock crash episode has tainted me a bit.
  We made the half hour run to our dive area and began getting the boat ready. All the dive gear was stowed and packed from last year, and we had been running the mountains for the past week deer hunting instead of getting the boat ready.
  I wriggled my way into my woollies and dry suit as Mike scrambled to get the boat set up. Surprisingly enough, we were both ready at 8:05, just five minutes past the opening time.
  I slid off the back of the boat and into the biting cold water. Yes, I have forgotten how cold this water is from last year. My forehead felt like eating ice cream too quickly, my lips burned, and my hands numbed almost instantly. Oh the sweet feeling of diving for cucumber gold in Alaska.
  I found cucumbers instantly and began filling my bag, as I worked I could feel the cold trickle of water on my right arm. My thought goes to dry suit diving.
  Dry suit. Ha! Only those who have not worked under water in a dry suit could believe that a dry suit keeps you dry. Wearing a dry suit sure helps with keeping cold water away from your body, but throughout a day of hard diving and picking cucumbers you move your hands and flex your wrist enough the little burps of air escape and at the same time, burps of ice water enter your wrist. As you unroll a float to the surface when the bag is filled with cucumbers you will have a burst of cold water enter your neck seal as well. Over the course of an 8 hour day you will come up with your arms soaked and your chest wet with ice cold pacific ocean water.
  The cold water I was feeling on my arm was not coming in through my wrist seal, but rather from my zipper area.... it felt like.
  I had had the same soaking last season and sent my dry suit to a dive shop in another town in South East Alaska with the instructions that I was getting soaked down my right side. "It might be the zipper, or some where else," I told the lady over the phone. "Please check it out and get it repaired."
  "No problem, I'll have it right back to you," was her reply.
  Three months later I got the dive suit back and hung it in the closet for this dive year.
  Ah... the wonderful feeling of a flooding dry suit.
  I dove for a couple hours and could feel the water sloshing in my right arm. Cold was creeping into my whole body.
  I made my way to the surface and handed Mike a bag of cucumber "Gold".
  "Man, I'm freezing I told him. I've got to warm up a bit.."
  "If your too cold let's just call the dive day and head back to town," Mike said making sure he was not pressuring me to earn him more money and in doing so endanger myself.
  "Thanks, but I think I'm good for one more dive," I told him.
  After a brief warm up I headed back to the bottom. I was working at a depth of 30 to 50 feet. The deeper I would dive the more water would squeeze into my suit.
  It only took a few minutes down this time and both of my legs cramped tight with charlie horses.
 I dragged myself along on the bottom with my arms, my useless legs locked tight in throbbing cramps. After some time the cramps subsided enough to allow me to use my swim fins, and I carefully finned my way along the bottom.
  A half hour and I was back to the surface. "No can do!" I shouted over the roar of the hookah and the hauler motors. "I'm soaked into my right leg and cramping like crazy."
  Mike shut down the machines as I wriggled out of my dry suit. Water poured out of my sopping wet sleeves and my right leg. Great repair job on my suit, dive shop!
  I did get into my back up suit and made another hour dive before freezing completely out.
  Mike and I were the first boat at the tender. He asked if I timed out on my decompression time. Nope. Going back out after you sell? Nope.
  "I'm old, wore out, and freezing cold," I told the guy. "We are selling our catch and heading home."
  I grabbed the check out of the envelope from the processor and could only stare at the numbers. Gold. For sure these cucumbers are like picking gold.
  Now I'm sitting here watching this 60 knot storm blow through and thinking of my dive day tomorrow. No one in their right mind would go out in storm force winds to jump into freezing cold water... unless there was the glitter of gold!
  Oh, I did air up my dry suit and find a dime size ware spot under my right arm. It was not the zipper at all, just a tad bit of fix it glue and no more leak.  Oh well, only a few hundred dollars to some dive shop for nothing.... What is a few hundred to a gold harvester?

         Mike working a bag of Cucumbers... "Gold!"

New Puppy

 I have a new character to introduce you to. She is just a little over 12 pounds, brown, fury, cute as a bug, but naughty as a puppy can be.
  She is a little 9 week old lab puppy. We have named her Halibut or Hali for short.
  I made a quick trip to Eastern Idaho with my parents to pick up the puppy. After flying out of Alaska to Idaho, I found the drive to be a bit long. A five hour drive to Eastern Idaho near the Wyoming border.
  Hali was not very impressed and made my dad's ride back home a bit unsettled. She wriggled, climbed, howled, and chewed on dad for nearly the full five hours. Dad's comment was, "This puppy sure has a strong main spring".
  I have watched the breeder's web sight for over a year trying to time a litter of puppies for the small window of time I have between my summer guiding and my winter diving.
  "We have a litter of chocolate puppies just born last night," the breeder told me when I contacted him. "I'll keep first pick of litter for myself but give you next in line," he informed me. I quickly sent him a deposit and the matter was settled.
  Now the work has begun. House training a new high energy puppy. I am sure it thinks its name is "NO!"
  This puppy is very high strung. We asked the breeder to make sure our puppy would make a great house dog, friend, as well as a good companion for our two other dogs.
  She does not want to be held at all, sleeps by herself across the room from my wife or I, and the other two dogs.
  She walked into the house and immediately dominated our 12 year old lab, Jaz. She tried to take on the boxer, Mav but we were encouraging him to stand his ground. This cute little puppy ran both of the old dogs up onto the couch for the first day.
  I took little Hali out for her evening potty time to find the neighbor's two dominate poodles racing at us barking like they always do. In just a minute this cute little lab puppy had them both pinned under my truck cowering in fear. Their owner came to their rescue, but we both shook our heads at the nice little, supposed to be mild 8 week old lab dominating these two seasoned dogs. Hmm.... makes me wonder what we signed up for.
  We texted the breeder kind of jabbing that he pawned off the alpha female onto us and he claimed he had two other females in the litter who were the alpha dogs.
  "At least you won't have to worry about some other dog taking a duck out of her mouth when she is old enough to hunt," my wife consoled me. I gave her a quirky little smile, thinking of all the bloody battles I might have to break up if another dog even gets close to us.
  The names I quickly though of for the new puppy... Tasmanian Devil, Killer, Satan. Then Shark, Killer Whale, or Snapping Turtle... just to name a few.
  My wife and daughter came with a little more reason and her name was to be Sweet Pea, Mild Jill, or some such.. Ha! Nice try.
  After three days we settled on Halibut. We wanted something with a good Alaska slant to it. Seeing this little puppy flop around on the floor sure looks like a halibut flopping around on deck.
  Hali is a very smart little dog. She learned to sit in less than an hour, lay down in about the same amount of time. In two days she has not touched most of the household items we have told her "No" to. I am amazed at how quickly she learns.
  Hali has settled in with our other two dogs as well. She and Mav wrestle for hours each day, and he will let her know when she is getting too bossy. It is nice having a dog do the correcting instead of us. We go for long walks and she is doing very good. she has no fear and we have to watch that she doesn't jump off cliffs or into deep water. Her brown coat blends with the forest floor and makes spotting her nearly impossible so we have to keep continual eyes on her. She does not seem to mind taking off by herself and expects us to come find her.
  I can tell this will be a very independent dog. She is going to be strong willed, but I can already tell this will probably be my best hunting dog of my life so far.
  If I can learn to train her, she will be incredibly. Jaz has been so good and so easy to train. Hali will be hard to train, but should become the best dog ever.
  So.... wish me luck. Here we go on a 12 year roller coaster ride of dog training.
  "by the way dear..." I'm looking at my wife,  "where is that add for the shock collar?"


                                          Halibut  "Hali"

                                             Hali with the two big dogs chased onto the couch

2015 Summer Guiding Review

 I have just finished one of the longest, toughest, but probably the most rewarding of all summer guiding seasons.
  We battled the ocean like never before.
  At the start of the season we had weeks of north west winds blasting us with 20 knots or more daily. In town, it was beautiful hot and sunny. The ocean, on the other hand, was rough, windy, and foggy cold.
  El nino was working its magic. Warm water flooded the North Pacific Ocean. Our cold water fish reacted in strange ways. They spread out and moved deep. Only on heavy rain days would the fish school up like normal years.
  Jelly fish moved in clouding the ocean in heavy slime. The salmon would have to position themselves either above or below the mass of stinging tentacles.
  It seemed the only normal was our halibut fishing. The halibut were thick and hungry day after day.
  On storm days we usually duck in behind islands and catch salmon. Not to be this year. The warmer water kept the fish out on open ocean, away from the reach of our storm day efforts.
  Year after year we have pounded the fish around Sitka with results non failing... until this summer. Clients who have been here for the past ten to twenty years found this unacceptable, blaming us as guides, for not finding fish every day. Nasty storm days was unacceptable for not filling out limits of fish. We found ourselves pushing weather we have never fished through. Late in the grinding season we fished on the edge of our safety, pushing our little boats to the limits of their design. I have to tip my hat to the skills of the guides in piloting our boats through such dangerous water and bringing clients back to the dock each day.
  Some lodges opted to burn fuel to find fish in calm water. They would make runs of three to four hours one way to catch a hand full of salmon. Hundreds of gallons of fuel burned for just a tad bit of fish. I think I would have offered to park the boat and use fuel money to purchase more fish, but I guess the experience is part of the trip.
  August found swarms of blue sharks moving into our area. Normally, they come through for a week or two, this summer they hovered around for more than a month. Many of our silver salmon and last kings came aboard with huge shark bite gashes on them.
  We would have to clean our salmon in ares where we did not halibut fish, wash out every bit of blood, and pour bleach in the bilge of the boat once anchored. We would get one free drop of halibut bait, after that it was like playing shark Russian roulette to get bait to the bottom before the blues bit it off.
  Many of our halibut came up with shark bite marks.
  Those who got careless with the blood draining out of the boat and into the ocean would be bitten off so many times that it would end the day of halibut fishing.
  All of the above was mixed with constantly swirling winds. One day it would blow 20 NW, then next day would be calm, only to ramp up the following day with SE 25. Around and around the winds chased themselves all summer. It made us guides nervous to even click on the weather link. One calm day would make us gun shy for the next day, knowing it would probably be blowing.
  Day after day, week after week, and then month after month the grind wore down the guides. By mid August we were zombies walking around in a daze. We performed our duties, to collapse at home in weariness. I could hear the numbness in the radio conversations, sometimes talking but not making sense.
  We smiled at the nasty jabs of clients unhappy with fishing conditions or lack of fish, we dodged the commercial fleet who were also struggling and looking for someone to take out their frustrations.
  We made it. We can hang up our hats with pride. We pushed through the toughest season on record and did our best.
  I'm glad it is over.
                                            shark bit halibut

                                           client with a blue shark