Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Alaska Christmas Gift


On Christmas eve each year, the five couples, (and six dogs) that share our cove here on Prince of Wales Island in the Alaska Panhandle, all gather in Dan and Liz Williams' beautiful log home to share gifts and celebrate Christmas. Its a great time of stories and camaraderie, food and friendship.

This year Ron and Joan Leighton gave us a very "Alaskan" gift, the table centerpiece shown here. It has a slightly corrupted Christmas significance, uniquely Alaskan. Can you guess what it is?

The answer when we post Part II of "Jonathan Bender's Cape Chacon"

In the meantime all of us here in Saltery Cove wish you the Season's Best, and a peaceful, healthy and prosperous 2010!

Captain Mac

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Chart of Cape Chacon and Gardner Bay

This is a chart of the southeastern tip of Prince of Wales Island, Alaska. Cape Chacon (pronounce shack-un) is the point of land at the bottom left of the illustration. The entrance to Gardner Bay is highlighted in yellow. As you can see Gardner Bay is not very big.

We don't do Cape Chacon trips very often. It is a four hour run from the Lodge so the crews take the boats down the night before and the guests fly down to join us next morning, and fly back in the afternoon. This maximizes fishing time at the Cape. Obviously it is very expensive to charter floatplanes, so there is an additional cost for the trip. It is also very weather-dependent. This is the exposed open ocean, not like our protected Inside Passage waters back at the Lodge. We don't go unless there is an absolute guarantee of good weather, both for flying and fishing. So, when we do go, it is a spectacular trip.

The fishing isn't necessarily any better at the Cape. I have often come back from a Cape Chacon trip to learn that the boats fishing close to home out of the Lodge did far better than I. But the fishing and the environment is different. It's a wild and wooly place, above the surface of the ocean as well as below, as Jon Bender describes, and it has a charismatic attraction, a siren call, all of it's own.

It is 45 nautical miles from the Lodge to Gardner Bay and another 10 nautical miles to the Cape. The Canada/U.S. border runs only a short distance south of the Cape and is still in dispute to this day. You can click on the chart to enlarge it.

Captain Mac

Jonathan Bender's Cape Chacon




Dawn Breaks in Gardner Bay









Foreword:
Jon Bender was a deckhand around 12 years ago at our Southeast Alaska fishing resort, Sportsman’s Cove Lodge. (See www.alaskasbestlodge.com). He was about 20 years old when he wrote this. He sent it to me a year or so ago. I have edited it only slightly to update some facts and changes in fishing regulations that have occurred since Jonathan wrote this. The trip he is describing is the third day of a four-day package. Jon has been fishing with the group for two days prior to this. I hope you enjoy his perspective, which is representative of all of the staff at the Lodge, and in particular the deckhands. I will post it in several parts.

Captain Mac


Jonathan Bender’s Cape Chacon

Part I

It’s early. Though it’s plenty light enough to function, the sun has yet to peek through the opening at the east end of the small cove. The black sea is glassy, calm. Surrounding us on three sides is a series of rocky, knobby peaks, their flattened tops dropping off precipitously into the water of the cove. This area is so often and so violently windswept that the characteristically dense forest that carpets the rest of the island has never gained much of a foothold on the bedrock. Instead, resilient chartreuse lichens contrast against dark green moss and gray-black rock. Looking around, it’s easy to visualize the glaciers that, thousands of years ago, scoured out the depression in which we are anchored, now filled by the sea.

Our four charterboats are rafted up together in Gardner Bay, about 10 miles from Cape Chacon (pronounce shack-un). The other crews are beginning to stir. I eat my breakfast while prepping the gear for the day. There’s a lot to do; things are going to get hectic. The Alaska dawn comes slowly while I work and soon we hear the sound of the floatplanes, venerable de Havilland Beavers, delivering our guests. The skilled coastal bush pilots always offer a scenic and exhilarating ride, but particularly so in this case, as they maneuver expertly to land on such a small stretch of water; but short landings are their specialty, the reason why the Beavers were consigned this day. After circling above the edge of the surrounding peaks, assessing the landing zone for wind, downdrafts and any debris that might be in the cove, they descend in an arcing approach, touch down smoothly, and once firmly on the water, raise the nose steeply to come “off the step” and slow the aircraft in as short a distance as possible. Captain Mac, watches with a critical and appreciating eye. With just a touch of envy he mutters, “Poetry in motion,
just watching these guys.” And don’t worry, they know he is watching too.











One by one, the floatplanes carefully pull alongside the outside boats of our raft. Aluminum and fiberglass don’t mix so fenders and many hands help to keep the two apart. And one by one the planes discharge their cargo of passengers, lunches and raingear and drift away before starting engines and launching off towards the entrance of the cove in a blur of noise and spray.





As the guests come aboard there are happy greetings and elated descriptions of the almost hour-long low altitude flight down the eastern shore of Prince of Wales Island. Excitement and anticipation fills the air. You could cut it with a knife.

We pick the anchor, turn loose of the other boats and head for the opening that will take us out of the cove toward the open water beyond.

“Okay folks, it’s all business from here on out,” I announce. “You should probably get some stretching in, calisthenics; whatever your pre-workout routine.” My comments are met with some blank looks, eyes peeled open, focusing on a much-anticipated near future that’s dissolving into the present. I’d started to prepare them the previous day, but I don’t think they quite understand what they’re about to be a part of. The fun is about to begin.

To be continued...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Tholepin: Filthy Video of Halibut Waste

Tholepin: Filthy Video of Halibut Waste

This came to my attention recently. It makes you want to throw up. As an active participant in the halibut management debate since 1993, I have served on several committees at the North Pacific Fishery Management Council (NPFMC) and testified countless numbers of times before the Council on the subject of halibut. I have also been a member of the International Pacific Halibut Commission (IPHC) Conference Board on many occasions since 1993.

I would not publish this if I did not think there was some truth to it. Read/watch it and weep.

Captain Mac

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Moon Shot


I thought you all might enjoy this. It was taken from the deck of our home at the Lodge on the evening of the day in mid-October 2009 that we caught Patty's big halibut. This is the moon, not the sun, as it appears. As you can see it is a perfectly clear evening and it is just at twilight. Our neighbors, the Williams have their porch light on. There is just the hint of mist across the Cove in the little draw where the creek comes down from Swan Lake. I took about a dozen shots. This is the best one.

Captain Mac

Part II - Patty's Big 'But




Okay...we're back. My apologies for the delay in finishing the story of Miss Patty's big halibut.

So, to pick up the thread: It was a beautiful day in mid-October, just a few weeks ago. The last guests had been gone for over a month. Patty and I were working around the Lodge, finishing up the chores of preparing the facility for winter's onslaught. It was such a gorgeous day we decided to pack a lunch and take the Show Girl out to see if we could catch a nice little chicken halibut or two for supper and the freezer. We anchor up in 160' of water on one of my favorite "Chicken Farms" and just get the gear in the water when Patty's rod bends over double and the reel begins to scream. After a struggle to get the jammed rod out of the holder, Patty settles down to battle the big fish. We rejoin the story just as the realization is setting in that we are severely undermanned to cope with the monster when it comes time to land it.

+++++++++++

I judge that there is some time left to prepare for getting this brute aboard. For one thing, even though Miss Patty is making progress, this powerhouse is not done yet. Often fish being worked up from the depths encounter changes in the water column they don't like. I have a theory about that.

As an old Nasal Radiator (an irreverent term used to describe Naval Aviators) who spent most of his Navy flying career chasing submarines, I had some experience with such things. Trying to find a submarine was a lot like fishing in many ways: attempting to outsmart something beneath the waves that is at home there, is not an easy task. For one thing, the ocean is not an homogeneous mass of saltwater. Besides the obvious changes in pressure with depth, there may be a temperature layer (thermocline) or a change in salinity that doesn't sit well with the creatures. Submariners would hide underneath these layers, which were often strong enough to deflect sonar beams searching for them. It made sense, at least to me, that the creatures who live down there would be sensitive to these things as well. And I have seen it happen many times, especially with big halibut that have the strength to exert their will, that a fish will come only so far up and say, "Nope, that's it. That's as far as I'm going," and head full bore back to the bottom. There is nothing you can do to stop a big fish when that happens, without the risk of busting it off. You are along for the ride at that point. When the run is over, you are back at the beginning of the fight, and it starts anew. And it will repeat itself, sometimes several times, at the same depth, until one of you wins. Either the fish breaks off the gear or you finally tire it out enough to work it past the layer.

I figure there is at least one, maybe two of these runs left in this freight train, and I am not disappointed. We were maybe half way to the surface when the first one happened. Patty groaned as she watched the line go zinging off the reel so fast it was flinging water in her face. Back to ground zero. Start all over. Work it back up. Man, look at those head shakes! And at about the same place in the fight...here we go again. Hang on Miss Patty! Did she really just call that fish what I thought she did?

So I use the time to prepare ourselves as best we can for the moment of truth that will start when Patty yells, "Color!" For starters I got two of the big "J" gaffs ready. Now, these are really lethal weapons. The handles are 1-1/4" diameter fiberglass, 6' and 8' long and they really look more like the biblical shepherds' crooks than anything else. I hooked each of them on the rail, on both sides of Patty. A standby, smaller gaff was positioned behind us in case one of the big gaffs was yanked out of our grasp by the thrashing fish. It happens. Then I went to get the Snakecharmer from its locker. This is a beautifully simple little .410 shotgun intended to be a handy saddle gun but perfectly suited for this purpose: stainless steel and plastic components withstand the saltwater environment, and a safe but sure single shot action, that "breaks" like the traditional double barrel shotgun, for additional safety. There is one drawback. You get only one shot.

Between grunts (hers) I brief Patty on how this is going to go down. She is focussed on the fight. Is this registering? It is critical to get it right. We are probably not going to get a second chance.

"(Grunt) I'm listening. (Grunt) Go ahead."

"Okay...First: We are going to position you right at the railing gate for this so we can open the gate and not have to haul the fish any higher than we have to. When we first see color (initial sighting of the fish underwater) we put everything into slow motion. No jerky moves. If we are smooth the fish will probably behave. If we start yanking it around it will likely respond in kind. Keep bringing the fish towards the surface but don't let it break the surface. That's not natural and the fish might not like it. When the fish is just below the surface, I will take the line in my left hand, using just my fingertips to control it. I'll have the gun in my right hand. When I feel like things are under control I will tell you to drop the rod and grab the "J" gaff on your right."

"Got it. (Grunt)"

"Okay...the fish is going to come up vertically in the water at first. It will be hard to shoot and gaff that way. I will try to lay it out flat just under the water by slowing down the pull on the line. When I get the fish flattened out you need to take the gaff and position the gaff hook under the fish, tip pointing up obviously. Pick a good spot where there is a lot of solid flesh and bone, like the back of the head, not the gills, nothing solid in that area, the gaff will rip out, but try not to touch the fish, or it may spook. Remember where the rod is if the fish takes off. We're back to square one if that happens. If the rod goes too, we're done!"

"Uh-huh. (Grunt)"

"I will try to hold the fish steady and flat just below the surface. When you are in position with the gaff I will shoot. You won't get any warning because it will be a split second decision when everything is just right. When the shot goes off, you jerk. You won't be able to see anything because you will have a face full of water. I will drop the gun and get the second gaff into the fish. Hopefully, between the two of us we can hoist it aboard through the boarding gate before it figures it out and all hell breaks loose."

"I'm good. (Grunt)

Thank goodness she was a lady jock and is still coachable.

We're as ready as we can be and Patty is able to work the fish through the barrier layer with just a few head shakes. Its not long now.

"Color!" Patty shouts, and there is a sigh of relief in her voice. I slid open the railing gate and got my first glimpse of ol' Moby. Holy Cow! It's a big son-of-a-gun all right! This is going to be interesting. Show Time!

It went just as we briefed, almost to the letter. I knew the shot was good as soon as I saw the big fish's eyes "cage" when the shot hit home. A fish will be "looking around" but the instant it is stunned by hitting it with a fish club, or in this case, shooting it right in the brain, the eyes go into a stare that is unmistakable once you recognize it. The fish never moved. There was a hole as big as your fist right where the brain should have been. Patty's gaff went home in a perfect spot, I set the gun down, grabbed the other gaff and sank it into the fish's head.

It didn't come on the first heave. We got it part way out of the water and we ran out of oomph. There was more to this fish than we thought! We let it settle back into the water while we adjusted our footing and regrouped. We still had both gaffs firmly in place and the fish had not even twitched. Okay...again. Once more with feeling. Ready? We both gave it all we had and this time we got the head over the gunwale to a point where we could slide the rest of the fish onto the deck. Phew! Hot damn! We did it! What a fish. Biggest we have seen this season. Not much left of the cheeks though!

So how big is it? We were both thinking the same thing. The weighing scales were all put away for the winter, so were the gallows we used to hang the scales from. Neither of us wanted to undo all of that when we got back to the Lodge. We'll just have to use the measurement tables in the tide books to come up with a good estimate.

Out came the measuring tape. We took very careful measurements and decided it was right at 70" long, lying on the deck. Maybe a scosh over but we'll call it 70. It was a fatty though. Pretty thick. It will be all the table says it is. Well, the tables make it 179.4 pounds live weight. Call it 180. Whos' going to argue, and we'll have the pictures to prove it.

What's that noise? Damn! Now my rod is going off...but I know I am not going to top the one lying on deck. The realization is setting in. She did it to me again.

Hope you enjoyed it. If so, pass the word. More to come as I have time.

Captain Mac

"The good Lord doesn't count against a man, his days spent fishing."
(Or a woman, for that matter)



Thursday, October 22, 2009

Part II is Coming

I've been really busy since starting the story of Patty's Big 'But. A big storm is coming into Southeast Alaska and I have a lot of work to do around the Lodge before it hits. As soon as the dust settles (or maybe the mud?) I'll get back to it.

The next episode will probably be the story about the day we picked nine people out of the waters of Clarence Strait, including an infant baby, after they were forced to abandon their burning cabin cruiser.

After that we will probably get into a series on "How to get the Most out of your Fishing Guide." It probably applies to hunting too, I guess.

Stay tuned,

Captain Mac

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Patty's Big 'But

We have enjoyed extraordinarily good weather this year in Southeast Alaska (The Panhandle) and it continued well into the fall. Maybe it is all part of Global Warming and this is what we can expect in the future! Last weekend was no exception and it was so nice that Miss Patty and I decided to take the Show Girl out and get some fresh halibut. We thought we would take our lunch and eat while we were fishing so we would optimize our time on the water. So off we went in search of a couple of smaller "chicken" halibut. The tasty, tender little guys in the 20 to 40 pound range. Well you can see by the pictures what happened. We no sooner got our rigs in the water, and got the lunches out when Miss Patty's pole lit up. I mean it REALLY lit up.

Understand, I'm not too surprised at this anymore. She cleans my clock every time we go out, and I'm supposed to be the pro! It gets so bad I have threatened to stop taking her. (Not really, and anyway she wouldn't stand for that.) If we didn't need the meat for our winter larder...but I digress.

Her reel is screaming and I am expecting it to start smoking any second. Our halibut gear, though stouter than our salmon gear is still pretty light by Alaska standards. Its a lot more fun and our guests enjoy it that way. So...the rod is in the pole holder, bent over double and there is so much downward pressure on it, it is jammed into the pole holder and she can't get it out. The two of us finally wrestle it out of the holder and the fight is on.

At first I thought it must be a big King Salmon, the runs were so strong and so long. We were only in 160' of water, so the fish had long since run out of "down" and was heading out and away from the boat, another indication that it might be a big salmon, which typically, after a few powerful deep runs will start to head for the surface, out and away from the boat the way this was beginning to look. Big salmon or big 'but. Which is it?! Finally, after several more smoking runs, the fight settled down into a pure slugfest, with the line near vertical, rod still bent over double and Patty straining to gain some line back onto the reel.

Now... Miss Patty is no shrinking violet. She has a room full of trophies from her days as a champion women's weight lifter. She'll tell you it was because she was a bit lighter in those days and those little girls just couldn't keep up with her. But she is well respected around the Lodge as being able to do the physical work of any man. We're not talking girly girl here. My point in telling you this is to help you understand, that this 'but was kicking her butt (so to speak) and that ain't easy!

Finally she started to gain some ground on this monster, and apart from those horrendous big ol' head shakes, that give you heart failure because you swear that line will snap with the sharpness and strength of each jerk, she gradually began working the fish up from the depths.

Now we had a problem. How are we going to get this thing aboard? We discussed releasing the fish, but it was the first fish of the day. What if this was the only one for the day. In our busy lives and at this time of year, we may not get another chance until next Spring. So releasing the fish was out. But there was just the two of us. If this was a regular Lodge charter I would have a deckhand and several guests to help. I could put the deckhand and the toughest-looking guest each on a gaff, while the angler worked the fish to the boat. With the fish alongside the boat the two gaffers (sorry Hollywood) would position the J-gaffs under the fish with the points up, whereupon I would shoot it in the head with a slug from the .410 Snakecharmer, and step quickly back out of the way. At the shot the gaffers would give a mighty heave and the fish would be aboard. Quick, slick and easy.

But it takes four people to pull that off. We were two bodies short of the ideal scenario. And now the fish was getting close. Time to improvise! And don't screw it up. Especially the shot. It better be right on the brain the first time or we are going to have a really ticked off big fish on a short leash.

To be continued next post...

Winterizing the Lodge





I've been in KTN (Ketchikan) for the past week doing business and tidying up loose ends after our season ended in mid-September. Tomorrow I will take the Show Girl, (one of our six charterboats assigned to the Lodge and the one that I consider "my" boat), and go back out to our home at the Lodge on Prince of Wales Island, about 25 miles to the west of KTN across Clarence Strait. Although it is a partially protected portion of the beautiful "Inside Passage" Clarence Strait can get nasty, especially during the winter months. I have a weather window that will allow the trip in relatively calm conditions.

There is still some unfinished winterizing to do out at the Lodge, including bringing the airplane back to KTN for servicing, and a few other odds and ends that I need to take care of before we head off on vacation for a few weeks.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Off we go...

Well, here we go.

All this is new to me, but I have been encouraged by my family, primarily my daughter, who is a fairly senior Air Force officer (no pride there!) to start writing it all down. Fifty years of fishing (pretty much all saltwater) and flying (seven years a Navy pilot and 34 years with a major U.S. airline, and still flying my own floatplane in the Alaska coastal bush) all done pretty much concurrently. There ought to be something in there that would interest somebody. So...off we go into the wild blue yonder!

Topics will be all over the map, whatever I feel like at the moment, or whatever you, the readers would like to hear if you give me your feedback. I have written several articles for fishing and outdoor magazines in the past, but one that I have always wanted to write is the subject of "How to Get the Most out of Your Guide." We'll work on that one somewhere along the line, probably in installments. I don't have a lot of free time. I'm not retired yet even though I am seventy years old. I still run one of the top fishing lodges in SE Alaska and it is a full-time job.

Stay tuned if you're interested, and give me some feedback. I'd hate to be taking the time to do this if no one is listening.

Fish on!

Captain Mac