I went to an island south of Juneau to do a site assessment for a potential shellfish farm. The jobsite leaders set out a grid on a beach at low tide, identified a transect to sample, then myself and others on the trip began digging at the sample sites, putting clams we found in a bag for later identification and measurement. Three students from UAS joined us, and they were excellent workers and travel mates.

The next day, I traveled with the crew north to see an oyster farm. When we arrived at the site, the farmer’s name somehow rang a bell. It then hit me that this might be the brother in law of a friend who lives a thousand miles west of Juneau’s wife’s first husband. And in true Alaskan fashion – it was. We had another great day learning the oyster trade with them. The oysters are held in square mesh boxes, stacked 8 boxes high, and hung from a floating raft, where the oysters can eat plankton. A small winch on rollers moved on an I beam that extended from the floathouse dock out over the water. The raft with the oyster boxes was moved in position so that the winch could pick them. The farmer lifted the boxes with the winch, then moved the winch back to the floathouse dock. We then dismantled the units box by box, pouring the oysters in each into a sorter. The sorter was simply a piece of large drain pipe with the sides replaced by varying
sizes of wire mesh, tilted downhill. The pipe turned by a small motor with a belt, and when oysters were poured down the tube, they would tumble until the mesh was large enough one to fall through into a tub. Ones too large for any of the mesh went all the way to the bottom into a tub. Similar sized oysters were loaded into the boxes, which will provide better growth then mixed sizing in a box. The whole unit is cleaned, put back together and dropped back onto the raft, and then another box cluster pulled. The work was physical labor but not arduous.

I drove back to where I was staying, arriving about 7 pm. After dinner we had an offer to hop on a boat trolling with fishing poles for king salmon in front of the residence. On the next pass – bang! – a nice king hit the hootchie and flasher combo. They handed the rod to me as the out-of-towner, and we landed the fish. We ate part of it the next evening, and the rest of it back here in Juneau.

On the last day, I worked with the local fish hatchery staff. I first took a tour of the facility, and went over the adult fish sales situation with the manager. Then I assisted the crew in transferring king salmon smolts from their hatchery freshwater ponds to saltwater net pens.

–
Mark Stopha
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
www.GoodSalmon.com

Bara from Mali came to Juneau on Wednesday.  He was attending a meeting in DC, and several of his volunteers made arrangements for him to travel to see us in Arkansas, Alaska and New Jersey. 

A Peace Corps friend was to meet Bara in Seattle for his scheduled 7 hour layover to show him the town.  Bara missed his connecting flight in Denver, however, when he showed up after the flight left.  He did not realize that the time zones had changed.

On our first day, we did a half hour radio show at the public station here talking about Winrock International and the situation on the ground in Mali with the recent coup.

The sun was out and I wanted to get out while we could, since it looked like a lot of rain in the forecast.  We purchased a one day fishing license and king salmon stamp for him, and headed out to where a friend informed me there was humpback whale activity.  It took awhile, but we finally found several whales in a relatively small area.  They were staying down for long periods feeding, and feeding alone, so you had to be looking in the right direction at the right time when we were at a distance, or you’d miss the spout.

As low tide approached, we headed towards our cabin, where we planned to spend the night, and near Colt Island, we dropped the salmon gear to try for a king salmon.  The weather was still nice, with light winds.  Big, puffy clouds dotted the sky.  When the sun was out, it was warm, and when the sun went behind the clouds, it cooled off quickly.  We trolled along the Admiralty Island shore across from Colt and then Horse Island to the cove at Grouse Pt, then started back again.  When we were near the Horse Island spit, Bara noticed one rod bouncing on the downrigger, and said something.  I pulled the rod off, and immediately drag started peeling off, but not at a scream like a king salmon.  I fought the fish for a minute or two, sometimes thinking I had some sort of snag.  I finally realized we probably had a halibut. We weren’t fishing for halibut in the traditional way of bouncing bait off the bottom, and we were only in about 25 feet of water,
with our gear at about 15 feet, when the fish took the herring.

It took quite awhile to get the fish to tire somewhat, since we had the limber salmon rods and 25 lb test line.  The fish didn’t run far, but didn’t come in easy either.  I finally saw the swivel that joins the leader to the line on the rod, but didn’t see the fish.  Down it went again.  The next time we got it near the surface we both saw it – a big halibut.  Really big. 

I was unprepared for a big halibut.  No halibut gaff.  No harpoon.  No shark hook.  Just a salmon gaff.  I had Bara do some fighting, and when we finally got the halibut near the boat, I clobbered it on the head with the back of the salmon gaff.  Which only made the fish mad, and down it went.  We were very lucky to be in such shallow water, as the fish didn’t have far to go to reach bottom.

I started contriving ways to somehow get a line around the fishes tail our through the gills to land it.  When the only other boat fishing the drag got in earshot, I told them we had a big halibut and didn’t know if could land it.  They asked if we needed a harpoon, and I said we sure did.

They dropped it off, and I had to call back a few times for instructions since I’d not used one before.  The harpoon has a sharp tip that slips over the end of the handle.  The tip is tied to a line.  The idea is to thrust the tip through the fish, and when it reaches the other side, the tip will turn sideways and release from the handle.  You then tie off the line still connected to the tip to the boat, and you have yourself a fish.

They instructed me to be sure I went through the gills, and to not be a Sally about it.  Thrust the harpoon hard they said.

Bara worked the fish up again, and I thrust the harpoon through the head.  Next thing I knew I had the handle in my hand, and the harpoon end was through the fish.  We tied it off to the boat, and relief started to set in.  We still weren’t sure how to get the fish landed, since I was not going to bring a fish that big aboard when it was still alive.

We decided to beach the boat at the spit, and pulled the exhausted halibut up on the beach.  I pulled out a gill, and it took probably 30 minutes for the fish to fully bleed out.  Bara took several pictures as the tide continued to flood.   I then hog tied it – tying a line from the tail to the head.  Bara suggested putting the fish in the boat rather than towing it, and I thought that would be alright with it hog tied.  He set his camera down on the beach and helped me get the fish onboard.

We get ready to leave, and Bara started feeling his pockets for his camera.  Then he remembered putting it down on the beach.  He went back, searching the rocks.  I realized the tide was flooding, and found the camera already covered by 4 inches of water.  Bummer.  We joked we needed to work on two things for the next trip:  Time changes and Tide changes.

He took a bag of halibut with him to his destination after Alaska to New Jersey, and his host there raved about the fish. We also had a reception here at the house for Bara, serving deep fried halibut and providing an opportunity for our friends to meet Bara.

Bara’s trip was a full one. We did a radio segment for our local NPR station, where Bara related his work at Winrock and the uprising situation in Mali. We visited the fish hatchery and my fish processor for Bara to get some understanding of where fisheries might go on the Niger River. I think my processors small plant could be an ideal size for a similar project in Mopti, and at a reasonable start up cost. I also was sure to show Bara insulated fish totes, which were another recommendation I made while in Mali for their fishermen. Of course, a trip would not be complete to our household without a day of garage saleing, where Bara picked up a cell phone to take back, and a kimono for his wife.

Bara called us yesterday after arriving back in Bamako. He was still glowing from his trip to the states. And it’s got me thinking it might be as important for my friends in Africa to come here as it is for me to go back to Sierra Leone. Maybe coming here would mean more to them. We’ll have to see.

–
Mark Stopha
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK  99801
www.GoodSalmon.com

I decided to try hooter hunting on the hill behind my house on Douglas Island. I headed out under mostly blue skies about 730 am. On my way up the hill, I saw things had changed. Right behind out garage at the edge of our acre of property was a big spruce or hemlock tree that had blown down, taking a couple trees with it. Several other fresh blowdowns were seen on the way up. Must have been a big blow to do that.

I heard a hooter not too far into the climb, and headed its way. Up and up I went. I realized for the first time, maybe, the slope was steeper here than on Admiralty where I hunt. Could be age 50 creeping up.

I got up to the trees and started the circle. This should be an easy one, I thought, since I can climb up the hill behind the trees for a clear view. The bird seemed in the very top, so I kept moving up behind the trees, taking a look, and then moving up. One one of the moves, I heard some sort of racket uphill. I wasn’t sure what it was until I realized that there was no more hooting from the trees. And as I got up and could see pretty much the whole tree, I realized the bird had flown off!

I waited and waited, hoping I was wrong. Then I kept climbing up hoping the bird had gone down to the ground, as they often times will hold tight and let you walk up to them without flushing. But I never saw this bird.

I went up and over the knob, but then there was snow everywhere, and no hooters hooting nearby. I realized that had been probably my only shot at a bird for the day, so I picked my way back down. Lots of deer sign on the way home, and every skunk cabbage sprout nipped to the ground. The blowdowns caused a detour here and there, too.

As I neared home, I saw that the black bears were up, too, as there were 2 large prints in the mud a few hundred yards up from our houses. No birds, but my sweat drenched tee shirt told me it was a good day none the less.
–
Mark Stopha
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
www.GoodSalmon.com

Not alot of hooters hooting today. There were four boats fishing the low tide between Horse Is and Admiralty, so there might be a few king salmon around. The birds were up on the side of the ridge, and the snow was melted back an amazing amount in a week and it was not hard to pick my way up to the hillside. On the way up, I saw some tracks in the snow that I thought were hunter tracks. I went to check them out and dang – biggest bear tracks I ever remember seeing anywhere. Like a dinner plate with claws. They may have looked bigger because the snow is melting, but the tracks were not old and the claws well defined. Luckily he was going down and I was on my way up. And glad I carry a 12 ga instead of a .22 for the hooters.

I did not hear a bird till I got to the side of the ridge. The snow actually made climbing easier than the open moss, which was terribly slick. I got the first bird, and headed to the second hooting, which ended up being further up the hill and a real hike. But once you can see the trees you think the birds are in, I know I can’t give up there. These birds were easy shots since I could climb up the hill behind them to see them, and the trees seem scragglier and not so tall as those in the flat.

I walked a long time and did not hear another. Someone was running a chainsaw across the channel on Horse Island, and the little creeks were running hard with the spring melt, so I think if the birds were hooting, I couldn’t hear the ones that were very far away. Or, they just weren’t hooting. I dressed out my two birds at a snow pile, then filled two ziplocs with the snow, and put the birds in a plastic shopping bag, then put a ziploc of snow below and above the birds in my pack to cool them down.

As I descended, I stopped regularly to listen, but couldn’t make one out. When I got off the ridge, I moved a bird on the ground in front of me. It didn’t flush, but walked out of sight as I had to change out the slug in the single shot to bird shot. I slowly walked a few more steps downhill and there it was in the brush. I took that bird, dressed it right on sight, and put the bird in with the other two.

Didn’t hear any more birds on my way down to the beach – just one back up on the hillside somewhere. The skunk cabbage was all nipped to the ground by the deer, but I saw no deer today, although lots of fresh scat. Never came across any more bear tracks either.

When I got to the beach, I had several hundred yards of beach back to the boat. I found a crab buoy and a nice boat cushion beach combing along the way, along with a deer antler. It took awhile to get the boat shore line in, as the anchor held up and I had to go way down the beach one way, and then the other, until the anchor finally came free. Today wasn’t like last week – my legs felt good all day and I just took my time spooling up the shore line. I loaded my gear in the skiff and headed home after another great day.
–
Mark Stopha
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
www.GoodSalmon.com

Went over to hunt hooters. Stayed over at our cabin on Thursday evening after work. When I looked at the tide book, I saw low tide was at 2 pm, so thought I’d better not go hunting early since I could be on the beach into the evening waiting for high tide to float the boat again.

So, I found chores to do. I pulled out the firewood logs from under the cabin, bucked, split and stacked it all. Now we had firewood for another full year.

I also fixed the rain gutter so we’d have water off the cabin roof to our water barrel again. All the time I was splitting and stacking wood and on the ladder the hooters were hooting. And hooting. Still more hooting. At 930 am I couldn’t take it anymore, grabbed my pack and grouse gun and headed to the beach.

I keep a small aluminum skiff on the beach just for this purpose. I dragged it into the water, then pulled in the big skiff and took off the 8 hp outboard and put in and its gas can in the little skiff. I pulled the easy-out to get the bigger skiff back out to deeper water, and headed over to Admiralty. Unlike the big skiff, I can drag the little skiff into the water if it goes dry.

It was about 10 am when I headed over to Admiralty. I beached the skiff, layed out the anchor line and tossed the anchor – an old truck wheel plate – up on the beach. It was already a nice day.

I headed up the hill on my usual course for deer hunting. It took awhile before I zeroed in on a hooter calling, and headed that way. I usually try to get a few birds in the flatter country on my way to the side of the ridge. It’s easier to get to the birds in the flat if they are there, but harder to see them since you can’t always get far enough away from the tree the bird is in before the neighboring tree’s branches block your view. The birds on the ridge are easy to see since you can climb up to the ridge past the tree the bird is in, and get to the same level as the bird.

I got to the first tree, and started circling. As usual, it took awhile to narrow down what tree the bird was in, and even then, you can have second thoughts. Round and round that tree I went for an hour, and I finally gave up. My eyes are another year older, and I forgot to bring any binoculars. Just could never see that bird hooting. It seems when I walked on to the next bird, the grouse increased its hooting – taunting me.

When I got up near the base of the ridge, I first noticed I would not be going up the ridge. The snow was still very deep, and the open country between the lower flat and ridge would be too far to post hole. The second thing I noticed was first one deer, then another. The first of several deer I’d see that day.

So, I started side hilling along the snow line towards the next bird. This time I did see the bird, but just plain lucky he was out on a branch I could see. I picked up movement first, and then waited. The next time he hooted the movement coincided with the sound, and I knew that what I was seeing was not the wind. I harvested the bird, wrung it’s neck, put it in my pack, and then on to the next bird.

This one was like the first. Probably spent an hour or longer looking and looking. I was ready to leave, but finally saw movement which I knew was the tail. I could see that I would not be able to get a better shot at the head, so I fired, and the bird flew away, perhaps missing a few tail feathers but it looked otherwise uninjured.

I tried to see where it went, as sometimes they don’t go far, but this one went a long ways. I headed in the direction of the bird, as that was where the next hooting was coming from. I closed in on what may have been the bird I missed, or another one, but as I got close I could see I should be able to get this one since the trees were smaller and scragglier, with lots of space to see. I thought I saw the grouse on a low branch as I came up to the grove I felt held the bird. Sure enough, I saw the head move. I waited for him to hoot again just to see it, then took my second bird. I took both birds into a snow patch, and cleaned them. I put the breast, wings and rear legs in a plastic shopping bag. Then filled two ziplocs with snow. I put one ziplock in the bottom of my pack, then the cleaned birds, then the other ziplock of snow on the top to cool them.

The birds were really hooting now, and I headed to the next tree. On my way there, I came into a meadow of sorts that I believe I’d seen from the air. It was a series of beaver ponds, and it was plain the houses were active with beaver cuttings here and there. After many, many years on this hillside this was the first time I’d come across this area, and put it to memory for next trapping season.

After passing through the meadow, I came to the woods again and found the copse of trees were the male grouse was hooting. This was another one I ended up leaving after an hour or so of doing a merry go round around the tree. Just could never see the bird, even though I thought I had pretty good sight pictures of the tree top where he was.

By this time, I’d been in the woods about 7 hours and my legs were starting to cramp. I’d drank all the water in my quart bottle, and was working on my second bottle from a refill in the creek. I was going to sleep well tonight.

I busted out of the brush along the beach trail up from the beach, and saw I had some backtracking to do to get back to the skiff. It wasn’t too far, but on my jelly legs it was far enough. I had some near-beers in the skiff, and that kept me going. I got down to the rocky beach when it was time, and clamored over to the skiff just in time before I might have had to wade out to get the boat. Which would not have been that bad of duty since it was near 60 degrees. When I got the skiff in, I realized the beer was in the other skiff, which made me laugh because it was just the thought of it being there that made the trek a little easier, and now that I was there, the beer had still served its purpose.

I pulled in the anchor, paddled out to deep enough water, dropped the motor, and headed back to our cabin. Hard to beat this day, and I plan to remember the binoculars next week.

–
Mark Stopha
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
www.GoodSalmon.com