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

Went to Wrangell to go king salmon fishing with Dave last weekend. Took the ferry down and back. I more and more enjoy taking the ferry in winter. All locals. Kids going to school event – sports and activities. Grownups to Board of Fish meetings or to watch their kids in the school events.

I often get to see people I know but rarely see or talk to. Teh ferry gives you time to really talk over coffee with nothing but time to kill. It’s 8 hours from Juneau to Petersburg, so nobody has to get back to work or pick their kid up. Discussions go from here to there, politics to fishing to trapping to hunting. your talks run their course, then you go take a nap or read a book or another friend comes by and the first one leaves.

I dropped Paul off a gift in Petersburg. When I was down there a few weeks ago he took me to fly model airplanes, a hobby he’s had since childhood. He has mostly rubberband-driven planes with a few motor driven remote control ones. I saw a supercub w/wheels and floats on Craigslist in Juneau, and the seller was right down the street. I picked up the plane and extra floats and knew it would be easier to and safer to take the big box on the ferry then on the jet.

Paul me me at the ferry terminal in Petersburg for the short 30 min layover. We went to the van I bought him a few weeks earlier, where PBR’s were waiting. Paul asked some questions about the van, which I can mostly answer since we have the same model. We finished our beers and I got back on the ferry to Wrangell, knowing I’d see Paul on the return trip north as well.

Dave is the son of Norweigen parents. His dad a shipwright who came to Wrangell. Dave grew up to be a shipwright, too. His dad worked with wood and Dave with aluminum. He went to community college down in Washington after high school, and was out on his own not long after making boats, only in his mid-twenties.

My brother in law and his siblings grew up with Dave. My buddy Bob in Sitka is a best friend of Dave from the time Bob worked in Wrangell. Dave had been to our house a few weeks earlier to watch his grandson play basketball and made the mistake of telling me to come down “anytime” to go king salmon fishing in the winter. I picked my next open weekend and after a few texts sent back and forth, a fishing trip was settled. He mentioned something about a “Game Dinner”, which I thought would be fun. And it was. More on that later.

We fished the first day on a boat he built for his grandson to to commercially fish for crab. I thought it would be awkward fishing off a bow picker with the rods and downriggers so far forward, rather than the traditional spot in the stern. Turns out it was just the opposite. We did get a line in the prop once. But it was great having the rods in the same viewshed as where you are heading, so you don’t always have to be looking to the rear.

Fun to fish with someone new. Dave has his set up with a flasher on the cannonball, and a whole herring with a toothpick through it to keep a bend and proper roll clipped off a few feet above teh cannonball. Dave doesn’t like having to fight a flasher and the fish. We caught a small king the first morning that was almost barely legal. This went to his friend, who was heading south to visit his parents who had moved from Wrangell in their later years like so many do to get warmer weather, better medical care, or both.

We had a couple other strikes, then a long dry spell. Near high tide, we moved to a passage in the mouth of the Stikine River. There were birds working the needlefish, and the winds were a little gusty. Not long after high tide, the rod on my side took a dive, and I clamored out to grab it.

I knew it was a big fish, and Dave thought maybe it was a halibut. We didn’t see it for several minutes as it stayed deep and took drag. When the fish tired and we got it up near the surface, we both saw it was a nice king. It seems like time stands still catching a nice fish. I always think I might lose it, and if I get the fish to net, it’s with as much relief as joy. And this was a dandy – 25 lbs or so. Big anytime, but especially in the winter when it’s still months or a year from spawning – it could be either.

I worked to get the fish bled, the old fish seller in me kicking in. Dave got me to leave the fish for a moment and get the rods back down fishing first. One nice fish is not a “great day” for Dave as it is for me.

We got the lines down, and I filled a bucket w/sea wate and stuck him in the bucket of water. I’d already instinctively broke a gill as soon as I dehooked it. The water helps to keep teh fish bleeding by preventing the blood from coagulating.

After the fish bled out, I started to dress the fish. Not only was it big, but as the belly lay open I saw it was also a white king. The Southeast Alaskans ultimate delicacy. Paul in Petersburg, Sara, and our friends would be in for a rare treat.

We didn’t catch any more fish that day. Dave’s deck hose made for a bang up job of cleaning the fish. The weather was around freezing, so we could just leave teh fish in the cooler overnight. I gave Dave what I’d hoped were a few good demonstrations of my fish cleaning ideas and techniques, since I never know if I’m embarrasing myself relating fish care tips to a native. Dave seemed appreciate of my fish handling experience, as I did hearing about boat building knowledge he passed on.

We returned to Wrangell, where I met Dave’s wife. Bob had given me advice – coffee for Dave and chocolate for his wife. My wife told me what to get for good chocolate in Juneau, and that put me in good stead right away. Dave had also asked Bob what I liked. So there was a half rack of PBR in Dave’s truck when we went fishing.

The next day we started in a different spot than the day before. Dave’s buddy caught 3 in this spot the day before. There were two commercial boats already fishing when we arrived. One, the brother of a good friend in Craig who I’d deer hunted with years ago. The other, an old crotchety man who Dave warned me about. We no sooner idled into the area and went to get our gear ready than the old man yelled over to me “hey asshole”. I said nothing, but motioned for Dave to come on deck. Then the old man said “you’re an asshole fisherman”. I was tempted to ask if he needed a hug, but bit my tongue.
We fished behind him all morning, watching him land 3 fish while we had not a strike. The other troller fished offshore most of the day, perhaps not inclined to incur the old man’s wrath.

I tried some different gear set ups. I even put a rod off the stern with a banana sinker and a McNight spoon with a little cut plug of herring on it, just to have more gear in the water. Nothing was working. The old man eventually left, and Dave decided to fish further up the shoreline of the island than we had been doing. Dave’s friend, who’d fished the day before, radioed to say he was further up the shore, where we were now, when he got his fish the day before. As Dave was talking to him, he glanced behind the boat, said we had one on the stern rod, and ran to grab the rod. The friend on the other end of the radio said he must have talked one on when Dave left in mid-sentence. By the time I got back with him in the stern, Dave said the fish had come off. As he reeled in, he set the hook, realizing the fish had just swam towards him. We got the fish to net – a nice 15 lb king. I stunned it, dehooked it, and broke a gill and put the fish over
on a stringer as we left the bucket at the dock. We got the gear back in the water and Dave told his buddy the story on the radio. It was a gorgeous day- flat calm, and then the fish caught on my funky gear selection. We later caught another fish on a whole herring, lost another that might have been just legal when we crossed lines, and released a shaker. I cleaned all the fish, and put them in the cooler with fish from day 1. The cold temps were keeping the fish nice and fresh.

We got home about 430 pm and each took a shower to clean up for the Game Dinner. Little did I know that this was a major event in Wrangell. Some 200 males -members of the Stikine Sportsmans Club and their guests – packed the American Legion. The tickets are $50 for all you can eat and drink. Townspeople cooked the game supplied by the dinner attendees, with antelope, pheasant, moose, halibut, king salmon, deer, and king crab in abundance. The only females were four ladies dressed as cocktail waitresses, who Dave said were spouses of some of the members. Your beer glass never got empty unless you wanted it to.

The event started with appetizers. The event is for raising money for scholarships, Boy Scouts, etc. Along with the dinner was a door prize (870 shotgun), raffles (2 guns, an outboard, a 4-wheeler and airline ticket) and an auction, with items ranging from hunting clothing to chainsaws to boat haul outs. Someone even donated 2 hours of worktime at Dave’s shop. Mike O., a local personality, started things off with the moldy moose horn award, which is given to the person who screwed up the most the past season. The winner was a guy who flipped or sank his boat (I wasn’t sure which). Runner up was a guy who shot a robo deer from his 4 wheeler. In Wrangell, a fish or game violation can be more of a badge of honor than a public disgrace, depending on the incident and violators.

Then, the door prize was awarded. Dave’s friend who had caught 3 fish the day before won it. The whole place broke into a deafening boo. Dave told me why – everyone in the room knew the guy had 150 guns and was the last guy who needed to win another. But he was happy to oblige.

At that point, I told Dave “this is a rough crowd” – but in a good way – and Dave agreed. I also reflected that this event could have been in my own hometown and these bluecollar fishermen and loggers and deckhands and welders and bar owners are the kind of people our politicans send over to our wars in teh Middle East. I’ll never believe those blue collar people in the countries we invade would ever see the people in this room as the enemy. And I hope vice versa. We somehow, through ignorance, apathy or niavete let our leaders convince us others are evil, just leaders over there convince their people we are evil. How could regular people sharing a meal, laughing so hard it hurts, be anyone’s enemy? I’ll never believe it.

The beer kept flowing, and then dinner was brought out on the buffet tables. There were 10 tables of about 20 people each. Most had been to the event before, so it was like summer camp for them. They knew the rules. 10 cards were drawn one at a time to determine the order of eating. Our table was number 2, and that card came up first, so we got in line first while everyone else patiently waited their turn and drank more beer. This was Stikine River country, so lots of moose fare for dinner options. I chose mostly moose among all the other options since we rarely get moose.

As soon as everyone had got their dinner, items started to be auctioned off and raffles held in between some of the auctions. The auctions lasted nearly 3 hours. Beer and more beer. Nearly all auction items went for more than the item was worth. The old timers sitting next to us talked about the old days hunting moose, and how glad they were to see so many of the younger generation taking over the reigns for the Game Dinner. Some things had changed, like the ban on smoking indoors, but image teh essence of the community, tradition, and banter had not in the 32 years of the event. I hope to be asked again next year.

We didn’t fish on Sunday, but go things around to try to get things started for Dave’s kitchen remodel so he could get a sink back in service for his wife before he left town for the week on Monday to watch his grandson play basketball at the tourney in Ketchikan. I headed north on the ferry in the afternoon. The ferry was running late, and we didn’t stop long in Petersburg. I got off and gave Paul some salmon. He had beers and a sandwhich waiting. I didn’t get 2 sips from my beer when the ferry was leaving, so I hustled back, and was the last person on – they’d already put up the car deck but put it back down for me and didn’t admonish me for being late since it was such a quick stop. Back to work tomorrow, and king salmon all around this week.
–

Went to Sitka to watch my niece play basketball for Craig against Sitka. Sitka won both games, but Craig played much better for the 2nd game. Sitka has a lot of seniors, a deep bench, and good sized players that matched up well against Craig’s starters that are sophomores and a junior with my niece who is a senior.

Sitka looks like it’s doing well. I didn’t see any vacant stores. The boats in the harbors looked well kept. Fish prices have been good recently, and so the town looks like it’s prospering. And holy cow, is real estate expensive there. Who wouldn’t want to live in Sitka?

It’s been a great late winter traveling to Haines, Petersburg and Sitka to watch the Craig girls play, reconnecting with friends in those towns and a happy time.
–
Mark Stopha
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
www.GoodSalmon.com

My marten fur is ready to go the NAFA auction back east. First, I am required to “seal” them at the Alaska Dept. of Fish and Game. The state gets a number on how many I caught, where I caught them, and the number of males and females in the catch. It helps them keep track of the more valuable and more harvested species. Marten, for instance, bring upwards of $100 each. Mink, which only bring $20 or $30, and are stinky, greasy critters anyway, do not need to be sealed. I sent the two mink I had to Moyles to be tanned. The marten went to the NAFA consolidator up in Wasilla, who then ships my fur and others for the next auction in April.

I ordered sewing instructions for mittens and trappers hat from the UAF extension service, and hope to sew some of my furs myself. Would like to make some moccasins as well.

I’m off watching my niece play basketball in Petersburg and Sitka the next 2 weekends, and then the season closes for everything but beaver on Feb. 15, so this is likely the end of the season for me. If I get anymore, I’ll probably keep them for home use.
–
Mark Stopha
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
www.GoodSalmon.com

Pulled my traps today after not getting anything for the second check in a row. The 330 was sprung and the bait gone. It was set outside of the entrance to a square bucket, and when it sprung, it caught on the bucket so didn’t finish. Another lesson learned for next year. Big winds here – over 100 mph at Eaglecrest, and 70+ mph in downtown Juneau. All great at the cabin. Lots of snow and wished I’d had skiis to get in to the cabin. Did the dishes and read old Alaska Sportsman magazines. Changed oil in the outboard when I got home, after putting chains on the truck to get the boat trailer up the driveway.

With all the rain on top of the snow, the creek behind our garage had left it’s banks and was going down our back yard, right down our front walk way and down the steps. Sump pump was going every minute. Cleared out the creek, and went to our neighbors house and cleared out their part of the creek, too, as they are down south for the winter.

Will get my marten off to auction and the mink to Moyles for tanning. I’ve ordered some info. from UAF and going to try to make my own mittens.
–
Mark Stopha
Alaska Wild Salmon Company
4455 N. Douglas Hwy
Juneau, AK 99801
www.GoodSalmon.com