July 2019 – A Year and a Day

–by ARLO

“You’re a young feller now, and I’m expecting 50 hauls a night out of you, and I don’t want to have to beat you, ya hear me?” said Gary, our Alutiiq friend who had taken me purse seining that evening. Gary, his wife Jill, his nephew Fred, and friend Peter were all from the beautiful native community of Ouzinkie, on Kodiak island.

Gary was a comedian, always calling people by nicknames. He called me Little Buddy, his adult nephew Fred, “Fatty Baby,” and he just called his wife Jill, “Wife.” He would always be getting into playful arguments with her, and she kept him down to earth. Fred was funny as well, because he would catch thousands of fish every year, but did not eat a single one! He, Jill, Peter and Gary were all out purse seining Red (Sockeye) and Pink (Humpback) salmon to give to the elders of the community who could no longer get their own fish. People from the community put in requests for fish and they would catch it, clean it, can or freeze it till everyone had the fish they needed for the winter. They did this for free as a service to their community.

Purse seining is an interesting type of fishing, and it has many applications on many scales, ranging from big tuna purse seiners to mad-sized salmon purse seiners to Boston whalers with a couple hundred foot long net, which is what we were using. We started off with the two boats tied together, drifting, looking for salmon jumping. When we saw a jumper we would motor over, and Gary would say, “Wife, you circle round the fish by Sandy Beach,” and the two boats would split, the other boat pulling the net out from the bin on the bow of my boat. Fred and Peter would be hitting the water with giant metal plungers to scare the fish back into the net. When the two boats were together again, Gary and I pulled in the lead line that ran along the bottom of the net, and he would give me instructions such as “easy now, easy” and “pull like hell!” Once we had that aboard, we pulled in the corks (floats) along the top of the net. Then we started stacking the net back in the bin. I stacked leads, and Gary stacked corks, and we pulled the net in as we went, with the bottom of the skiff slowly filling up with salmon. After we stored and counted the fish (usually 25-40 per set), we started looking for more jumpers. It was a lot of fun.

Maybe Gary was kidding when he told me that he expected 50 hauls a night, but I would have done it happily if he had asked because I enjoyed it, I learned so much about an important part of life in a small Kodiak community, and I made a lot of great connections. I don’t know how likely that it is that I will make it back to Ouzinkie, but maybe someday I will end up working on a seiner out of Kodiak and come back and visit Fred, Jill and Gary.

With limited internet access since we left Hawaii, we’ve been collecting a few photos to share. They are below in roughly chronological order.

Summer ends early in Alaska and school is not far away, but we’ll post a couple times again before we head home. Enjoy the pics (the formatting might be easier to see on a computer than on a phone) and be in touch!

Offerings to Neptune as we leave Kauai. Jason on conch shell.

First fish–a wahoo! Don’t let that get away, cowboy.

The little red boat is DEBONAIR. The blue triangles are very big ships. Big, like a quarter-mile long. While some parts of this ocean feel empty, there’s lots of traffic in this part of the North Pacific as we cross shipping routes to the West Coast.

Poised to catch a Japanese glass fishing float.
Glass ball ecosystem!
Perfect.

Sailing north and it’s getting colder.
And colder.

Ready for dinner.
We never missed a dinner on deck, regardless of the weather.

…and then 18 days after we lost sight of Kauai, the sun came out, the fog lifted and we saw Kodiak, Alaska (visible here at left) . . . .

. . . on Caitlin’s birthday.
Happy Birthday, Sailor.

We anchored in the dark on our 19th day out of Kauai and woke up to this.
And this.

The fifth-largest city in Alaska, the town of Kodiak has something under 10,000 residents. And everyone is connected to the water. As I write, we are the only cruising sailboat in the harbor–our excellent neighbors are purse seiners (pictured here with its aluminum skiff), the seiners’ tenders, long-liners, and trawlers. We’re loving learning about Alaskan fishing, Alaskan lives and Alaskan generosity.

While in Kodiak, Arlo and Alma teamed up with friends on S/V Dogbark to spend a night on an island in Chiniak Bay. Here, the list of supplies they’d need.
They rowed two miles to Puffin Island, set up a lean-to shelter, caught and filleted five fish, cooked them over a beach campfire, fended off nesting seagulls, oyster catchers, terns, and bald eagles all night . . .
. . . and rowed home the next morning.

After a few days of re-provisioning and a few hot showers in Kodiak, we set off to explore Kodiak Island. Here we are coming in to a nearby cove.

Way up one gorge-like bay we shed our boots and we swam!

This cannery was shuttered fifteen years ago, but when our friends on Dogbark and we tied up to the dock, the caretaker, Lance, invited us in to look around. So many lives were lived out in this handful of buildings on the side of this island, so far from everyone else. Evidence of their days remains in bits of graffiti, their tools, the machinery they handled, the signs in three languages that set the rules that governed their movements, the scratches on the floor from their boots. More images below.

Dogbark and Debonair from the cannery deck.
Arlo and the boilers.
Alma scooping up the last of the salmon berries we picked for pie.

The next cannery was 50 miles further south–more remote, 109 years old, but still very much a going operation. The cannery is a real community built from itinerant workers, largely from Eastern Europe, Japan and the Philippines, as well as Alaskans who have been working in the cannery for a generation or more, and the fisherfolk who bring their catch daily. We visited at the cannery and with fishermen on DEBONAIR and there was more visiting even as we transited the bay. We were moved by the warmth and humanity that clearly sustains this community.

Beautiful Larsen Bay Cannery.
Where there are fish there are birds.

Here a couple of aluminium set net skiffs tie up to DEBONAIR for a gam while we are underway in Uyak Bay. This family gave us fish, sweets, and books for the kids as well as invitations to their fishing camp. We’ve also been given smoked fish, halibut, venison and elk meet. In great quantity. Sometimes we feel like we need to anchor far away from generous Alaskans while we catch up on the eating. As our biggest eater, Arlo is in heaven.

We’ve been given many salmon. These are sockeye. Good eatin’.
Arlo has cleaned many salmon. These are a silver and a pink. Also good eatin.’
When Arlo finds fish eggs when he’s cleaning a salmon, he process the roe. Yup, good eatin’.

Arlo and Alma and friends mapped an island in Uyak Bay. So far from the last island they mapped in the Tuamotu.
Sometimes mapping an island requires getting wet. Even in Alaska.