Fireweed Signals The End of Summer

We are blessed in Alaska to have a beautiful wild flower (weed to the locals) which blooms during the beginning of August.

The fireweed blooms in a strange way. It starts with purple flowers at the bottom and slowly progresses to the top. Day after day

we can pass by the fireweed patches and observe the steady progression of the blooms.

  The sad part of the fireweed bloom is that once the purple blooms reach the top summer is over. It is kind of like the opposite

of the ball in New York dropping on New Year's night.

  Right now it is the second week of August and the fireweed has reached half of its march to the top. As August draws to its

close the fireweed blossoms will also reach their end and both close out as the weather of fall descends on Alaska.

  The weather forecasts start leaning towards more extreme winds, much more rain, and the front’s descend in much closer secessions.

  Summer is drawing to a close and the beautiful fireweed signals its farewell in a grand salute.

Surprises

  Every time I think I've seen it all the ocean throws another surprise at me. Today it came while fishing for king salmon.
I dropped the troll gear to 200 feet deep skimming the bottom, when the line snapped out of the downrigger clip. One of the clients raced to the rod and the battle began. The King made an aggressive run burning line off the reel. I was busy clearing the other side
and getting the downriggers out of the way. Jobs done I gave my attention to the struggling client. The big king was now fighting straight below the boat. It did not run, but rather, just seemed like a huge heavy weight bending the rod completely over.
  The client worked and worked on the big king. At last we could see a glimer of king salmon silver slowly coming out of the deep.
  I had the net ready. Something was not looking right. The king was coming up head first with its tail pointing at the bottom of the ocean.
  Kings normally run in long, line stripping lunges. This King just hung straight up.
  Suddenly I realized what I was looking at. A big ling cod had a death grip on the King's tail.
  "You've got a Ling cod hanging on your King," I shouted to the client.
  We all stood in amazement as the pair of fish came out of the depths and into net range.
 I knew I only had one chance to get both fish into the net. One touch of the net on the ling cod and I knew it would quickly release its death grip and head back to the bottom.
 I drove the net deep under the pair and surprisingly came up with both of them.
  We danced around the boat hi fiving each other.
  The King was a keeper but the ling cod was too large under Alaska law and had to be released, after some great pictures.
I love the great surprises the ocean gives to those living the wild life.

Tangled but Triumphant

Once again we were halibut fishing. I had the clients in deep water, over 500 feet.
We had a couple nice keepers on board but were still looking for one more to finish off the day's limit.
  One of the rods snapped down and bowed under the weight of a heavy fish. My youngest client was manning the rod and leapt into action reeling as hard as he could to set the hook.
  After the hook set he began the battle of inches to gain line back on the reel. He would crank a little and the fish would take a lot.
You can tell a big fish almost as soon as it is hooked. The throb on the rod tip is enormous. A little halibut bounces the rod tip in small dips. A big halibut will telegraph a couple feet pull down each time the big fish throbs his tail. I knew this was a big fish.
  The young client would reel the fish twenty feet or so off the bottom, only to have the monster burn line off the drag and race right back down.
The battle had begun.
  Quite some time later the big fish was nearly half way to the surface and things were going well. The young client was pacing himself so he did not burn his arms out reeling in the fish.
  I still had the other clients lines out, as most big halibut are not in our slot limit and must be released once we determine they are not quite over the 68 inches required to be a legal keeper halibut.
  At last the big fish was nearing the surface. I had the line in my hands and was slowly hand over hand bringing it up for our first look. I felt a big throb on the line and knew it was going to make a run.
  "Hang on, it's going to run," I shouted to the client. He braced himself on the rail of the boat and just held on to the rod for dear life.
Line was burning off the reel as the big fish made a run.
Pow! The 90 pound braid line parted. The client fell back as the strain snapped off the rod.
  "No!" I shouted, "It broke the line!"
  Very rarely do I ever have a fish break the line. I have the drags set so that does not happen.
 I was consoling the young man when the clients on the other side of the boat said they had fish on their lines. I went over to assist. Sure enough both rods were throbbing in the usual big fish pattern. Something did not look right. Both of their lines went toward the bow of the boat and merged together. There should be about nine feet between lines, not a triangle look of the lines coming together.
  I raced to the bow of the boat to see where the anchor line was. It was right under the boat where the two lines seemed to be heading.
  "Oh no," I moaned. "That fish ran around all the other lines, around the anchor line, and then snapped off." I grabbed the anchor line and could feel the big fish throbbing on it.
  I raced back to the clients to inform them.
  "We have one option here," I told them. "We are going to have to pull the anchor by hand until we get to the tangle. I'm sure the big fish will break the line before we get to it, but  we have to try."
  I took the young man and one other client to the bow with me and we began heaving the heavy anchor line by hand. We would, all three in unison, "heave" and I would cleat off the line gained.
The next heave and cleat.
  At last I looked down and saw the tangle of lines around the anchor line, and a huge halibut still hanging as well!
  I raced back to the deck and retrieved a shark hook tied to a long line, and my trusty gaff hook.
  Back up front I informed the two guys that once we tried to lift the big fish out of the water to try and shark hook it, it would go crazy and probably break the line, but that was our only option.
  We slowly heaved the anchor line until the big fish's head broke surface. Sure enough, he went crazy. The line held. I grabbed the line with the gaff and the big fish lunged ripping the gaff out of my hand.
"Quick, get the net and catch my gaff," I shouted to the young man. He retrieved the net and made a great snag on the gaff.
"Now I need a knife from the bait bucket," I pleaded.
I was lying on my belly reaching over the bow pulpit as far down off the bow of the boat as I could. When the knife arrived I lifted the big fish up and got the shark hook into its jaw. "Now the knife!"
 I cut all the tangled line and finally had the fish free of the anchor line.
 We battled the fish all the way to the back of the boat and then brought it on board. What a giant. Stretching a tape on it, it measured 72.5 inches, booking out at about 200 pounds.
  I had to go back and free the other three lines from the anchor line by cutting and splicing, but knowing we had saved the big fish for the young man was well worth it.
 With our final fish on board we high-fived and headed for town.

Killer Whales

 Another great day was coming to an end. The clients chatted about catching fish as I motored the boat past St. Lazaria Island towards Shoals Point.
  St. Lazaria is quite an island. It is a nesting ground for many of the sea birds that are in our area. Puffins nest in the grass on the topside of the island. Murres nest on the cliff sides of the big caves on the west end of the island. Thick green grass covers the rocks up to tree line. The thick
Sitkan trees take over and squeeze out the grass on the top of the rock pile.
  I looked ahead and noticed something flash in the water ahead. "Probably a log or some kelp," I thought to myself, concentrating a little more.
  A huge fin sliced out of the water and into the air.
  "Killer Whale!" I shouted.
  More fins broke surface. We had a family of whales headed our way.
  I dropped the throttles into neutral, letting the boat settle quietly to rest.
  Everyone grabbed cameras and crowded the rail.
The big whales came right at us like we were just part of their great ocean.
  There was a big finned bull, a smaller finned cow, and a very small finned calf.
  "A family group of Orcas," I commented to the clients as they clicked picture after picture as the whales broke surface.
  The whales cruised just a few yards away from our drifting boat, never breaking stride in their rhythm of swim, blow, swim and blow.
  "What an incredible sight" one of the clients commented.
I totally agreed. As much time as I spend on the ocean and see such amazing sights, I still never tire of seeing whales, birds, otters, sea lions, and most of all, killer whales.
  As we approached town we all agreed that we had been blessed with one of the most amazing sights of Alaska.

Catch of the Day

 Finishing salmon early, I decided to take my client to one of my favorite deep water halibut holes.
After dropping the anchor in 550 feet I cleaned the salmon to get the guts and gills for fresh halibut bait.
I grabbed as much bait on the big twelve ott circle hook as it would hold.
  "Once that gets on the bottom the big flatties should come running. No good self respecting halibut could turn down a meal like that," I encouraged the client.
 "Is there really a bottom here," I heard him say quite some time later, as his bait and sinker still plummeted towards the sea floor deep below.
  At last his line bottomed out and went slack.
  "Give it four or five cranks up off the bottom, "I instructed, watching as he cranked the slack out of the line. The bait and sinker were hanging nicely.
  "Ok, sit back and watch for the tap on the tip of the rod," I said.
  We sat eating cookies and visiting for a while.
  First came the rock fish. We landed some nice yellow eyes and a tiger rock fish. Off to a good start.
  The first halibut up was a small one. It was legal but not what I was looking for. "Are you sure?" questioned the client as I tossed the small halibut overboard.
  "No guarantees, but I think we can do better than that," I replied.
  The client's rod slammed in a hard bend, "Get it, crank like crazy!" I cheered him on. He was cranking like crazy.
  "OK, slow down and pace yourself," I instructed, "You have a long, long way to go."
  The big fish really fought, but finally we managed to bring it on board. It weighed a nice 108 pounds. Not one we could keep but a very nice fish.
  "That is the largest fish I've ever caught," the client told me as we snapped several photo's. I tossed the big fish over the side and watched him blast towards the bottom as soon as he touched the water.
  We baited the hook and sent it back to the bottom.
  In just a short while the rod once again bowed towards the ocean surface.
  "Fish on!"
  After another long battle on already burning arm muscles another huge halibut head broke the surface. It was a monster!
  I shark hooked it and then asked the client to grab a hook and help. Together we huffed and puffed and muscled the big fish on board.
  It was larger than I had thought.
  "This is definitely a keeper," I said looking at my measurements on my boat deck. We needed the big fish to be longer than 68 inches.
This one stretched to 70.5 inches! A true monster.
  Looking at the tide book measurement chart, the big fish looks to be about 180 pounds.
  "I can't believe it," the client kept saying over and over, while staring at the huge fish laying on deck.
  We packed up the boat and headed for town. Once we hit calm water we paused for some nice pictures.
  What a day, and what a great fish.

The Long Drift

 "Hey what is that over there?" the client asked as he pointed to something in the ocean.
  "Looks red like a jerry jug gas can," I replied.
   Just this morning I had spoken with another one of our guides who showed me a jerry jug he had found floating in the ocean the day before.
  "Look at the writing on it," Paul had said. I looked and then did a double take. It was in Japanese.
  Telling the client to keep the faded red jug in sight, I turned the boat in a wide loop so as not to tangle the lines I was trolling.
It took some maneuvering of the boat, but finally I was lined up and heading to the orange jug.
  I netted the jug and brought it on board.
  "Look at the writing," I commented to the client. His eyes bugged out a little. 
  "What is that?" he asked.
  "It is Japanese," I informed him. I then went on to explain how a lot of the debris from the tsunami was now reaching our coast of Alaska.
  We had a good time looking over the jug and talking about how far this very jug must have drifted.
  We took many pictures of the jug, and then got back to fishing.
   "Sure hope there is not radiation on that jug," the client said some time later.
  I had not even considered that. "I hope not myself," I said as I looked at my gloves I had just been handling the jug with.
  We enjoyed a good day of fishing, but all through the day I would look up and see the red jug and think about it floating from Japan since March 2011 only to be discovered in Sitka, Alaska in June 2012.  Just one tiny piece of rubble from all the destruction that had hit their coast.
  I would love to know where the jug had been washed from. Maybe a marina along the coast. Perhaps it had been stored inside a boat before the boat was lost in the big quake after shocks.
  Who knows? I will keep the pictures of the jug as a reminder that even though an ocean may separate us, we are still connected as humans on this earth.

Some times the big ones don't get away

  We had a great day of halibut fishing today. After limiting on our king salmon we anchored over deep water for halibut.  I had to apologize for the depth of the water... it was over 500 feet deep.

 We had just dropped the four lines to the bottom when the rockfish started pecking at the bait. Twitch, twitch, the rod tips wiggled. We managed three nice tiger rock fish before the first rod signaled halibut.
  Big Halibut! "Wait... wait..." the rod finally bowed to the ocean nearly dipping its tip into the salt water. "Get him now! Reel, Reel, reel!" I shouted, as the client burned the reel handle into the big fish.
  I could see he was reeling as fast as he could but the line was burning OFF the reel and not onto it. I tightened the drag as the big fish continued taking line.
  "Wait him out. It's all you can do," I coached, "get back on him as soon as he stops running."
  At last the big fish slowed and stopped.
  "Now get back to reeling and see if we can turn his head off the bottom," I said.
  The battle had just begun. Each time the line seemed to be coming on the reel the big fish would make another charge to the bottom.
It took some time but eventually the big runs became less and less.
  "You've got him coming up now, just keep his head pointed up. When you stop to rest he will turn over and head back to the bottom."
 We finally had the big fish to the side of the boat and ready to bring on board. As gently as I could I slid him onto the deck.
 The halibut was tired enough that it never wiggled on the deck. We laid it out on my measurements. It was a whopping 67 inches long.
One inch short of being a keeper under our halibut laws of this season.
  We quickly took pictures and slid his huge body back into the sea. With a monster woosh of his tail he disappeared into the inky depths.
 That was our big one for the day. He booked out at 155.6 pounds. We also had a 135 pounder, a 125 pounder, a 77 pounder and a 50 pounder.
All released according to the law.
We did manage to fill our limits of four halibut under 45 inches for the legal limit.
What a great day of fishing.

  Sometimes the big ones don't get away, but rather, are turned loose to fight another day.