Notes From the Fishing Grounds – Page 14 – Alaska Wild Salmon Company

Serendipity

Twenty two or so years ago, I was at a meeting for the Juneau Economic Development Council, I think. I can’t remember what the meeting was about. I was working for the McDowell Group. Meilani Clark was sitting next to me, and I can’t remember who she was working for. We struck up a conversation, and I told her Eric had helped me find a troller, and I was commercial fishing for salmon. She grew up in Juneau, and asked me why can’t she buy fresh fish off the boat in this town? And that was the start of the Alaska Wild Salmon Company, and we’re still selling fish.

I probably knew more than most rookie fishermen here about the legalities of selling my own fish, having just quit from the Dept of Fish and Game at the time as the troll fishery manager. I had a lot more to learn about taking care of fish and marketing fish. That was two decades ago.

I was in Amsterdam, and half way home from Madagascar. I’ve been on a USAID Farmer to Farmer program assignment, working with the small boat fishermen in Madagascar on fish quality and marketing.

As I sat at my gate, waiting for the plane to Seattle, a guy walks by. I know him! I think. Then he’s gone around the corner before it registers, and he’s gone. Then it does register. That’s Melani’s husband, I think – and if I remember right, he’s Dutch, so that makes sense he’d be here.

A forty-ish year old asks to take the seat next to me. He’s from Oregon, been working in Europe for 15 years, and is heading home for good this year. I asked him about his time in Europe, and he says it was good, but he saw that the people he’d worked with weren’t very aggressive at getting more business or being the best. They were happy with where they were at, and while he didn’t disparage them for that, he wanted something more. I told him about seeing someone from Juneau, and when I looked up as the time got close for boarding, I spotted Juneau man.

As soon as I asked him if he was from Juneau, my face registered to him, but I was not in the right place. I told him the story above, which I’ve probably told him before, and we chatted for a good while about his meeting Meilani in Laos backpacking, and their early life spent in the Netherlands before settling in Juneau.

The last 16 hours or so of the trip from Amsterdam went by surprisingly quick. I first watched the longest movie on my seat screen – Schindler’s List – which I’d never seen before (yeah, I don’t get out much). I thought I sort of knew the plot, but realized I didn’t after watching the movie. A good choice. Then I watched documentaries on NXIVM (again, never heard of it, as I don’t get out much, like I said) and one on Bo Jackson (which, of course I do know, as he’s still one of my favorite athletes of all time, both for beating Alabama while at Auburn, and for being so humble. And, I guess, because he’s a fun guy from rural Alabama like Charles Barkley).

In Seatlle, all was normal again. My Alaska Air flight was to leave from Gate C18, so I got over there after clearing customs. When time got closer to leave and they hadn’t changed the marquee to our flight, I got nervous, and found they had changed the flight to gate N 17. Like I said, all was normal again. I think this gate change thing, entailing taking the subway across the airport complex, happens more often than not.

I made my plane, and slept. Hard. Most all the way to Ketchikan. Then on to Juneau. Three cabs waiting across the street. Good. My luggage showed up, and when I got outside, there were no cabs across the street. Dang it. Then one shows up to drop someone off – can you take me to town? Yep. Get in. Quickly! I can get fined 300 dollars if I pick up here! And off we went.

The lady was clearly an immigrant. Hispanic from her accent. And very nice. I’d put my facemask on for ride home, and she saw that after a few minutes and thanked me for doing so. First thing I did when I got home was to make a fire in the woodstove. I went through the mail Sara left for me before leaving for Hawaii a few days ago.

I went to bed about midnight and got up at 7 am. Made a fried egg with cheese and a bagel and coffee. I went back to bed and slept til 7 pm. Second day of jet lag is always the worst for me. But good to back in my own bed in my hometown.

Andry the Fishermen

My interpreter, Andry, has been with me now for a month. He’s suffered through my show of google slides on fish quality and marketing for three workshops, and by now, he could just do it by himself without first me talking in English and he in Malagasy.

I knew he liked to fish from the first days we met. But it was not until the last few days that he told me his grandfather has 8 fish ponds, and that not only does he like to fish, he sells the fishes he catches. He does all freshwater fishing. Mainly tilapia and big ass eels from what he tells me, in the river near his home, as well as tilapia and maybe carp from his grandfather’s fish ponds.

I brought a heavier duty collapsible spinning rod this trip, as I wished I’d had one in Ecuador. We didn’t get to use it much, but I knew from about day 2 I’d be leaving it with Andry. I showed him how to cast in Belo sur Mer, and he spent a whole day casting from shore. I didn’t bring the right tackle for casting, and he didn’t catch anything, but he was thrilled to have the spinning rod, as he just uses a cane pole at home.

When he told me he sold fish, that gave me a little spark. After working with three groups of fishermen, all who say catches are bad and getting worse, I wasn’t sure how much help I could be giving them tips on taking care of and selling fish if there’s no fish to catch. Andry fishes in freshwater, and it sounds like maybe that fishery is better, so maybe he will be my unintended benefactor of this training.

He loves kids. He showed kids some videos on his phone in Menaky. Then handed them all 10 cents in their local currency so they could buy some candy.

It seems like the coastal ocean fishery here may be doomed. The catches are going down, people use mosquito nets for fishing to catch the smallest of fish, the foreign trawlers are fishing offshore, and from what I’ve seen (not seen, really) there’s little stock assessment and even less enforcement of laws, if there are any laws to protect the health of the fish stocks.

Many of the fishermen and market women expressed interest in fish farming. I’m not sure it would work well here on the coast, as the soil is sand so it won’t hold water. Using pond liners or building concrete ponds might not pencil out as cost effective in comparison to fish value out of them. And are there any feeds available. It wouldn’t be prudent to use any fish based fish feeds as then they’d just be taking fish out of the ocean to feed their fish on the land. The ocean along this stretch has a big surf, so I don’t think you could hold cages or net pens to grow salt water tilapia either.

Respect

The older I get, the more respect I have for African farmers, and now fishermen. Sometimes – maybe most of the time – we in the west may look down on those who use the old ways of fishing as “backward”. But really, they are 10 times the mariners we are now with our fuel driven motors, our GPS navigation, our auto pilot, and mechanically driven machines for retrieving our fishing gear.

Malagasy fishermen practice the mariner skills lost generations ago in the north. Not out of some folksy reflection on the past, but as their way of life. They live much of their lives 6 inches below the surface with 12 inches of freeboard in their canoes, some that are not 2 feet wide. They put their sails up each day to get where they are going, then may anchor and fish over the side with a hook and line hand line, or set a small gillnet and haul it by hand. All out on the big ocean.

Watching them paddle is also a joy. They know how to paddle on just one side of their canoe, using a sort of J stroke at the end of each sweep to keep the boat steering straight- something I’ve never mastered. Lots of purely innate courage and skills these fishermen still have. When the fuel runs out or we kill ourselves fighting over it, it’s somehow a comfort to me to know these people will continue on as they have, and maybe get their turn at running the world for awhile.

Salt and Seaweed Day

Today, we bought 6 kilos of fish just caught in the morning, and 6 kilos of salt. The salt was big grain, so we used a mortar and pestle to make smaller grains.

I helped one of the wives clean the fish, then showed them how to salt the fish in layers.

Everyone else was out working, so we were done for the day. When the boat didn’t come for awhile, we wandered down to the beach to check out the red seaweed farm.

Ladies were planting new lines by taking larger pieces of seaweed off lines, separating them, and then replanting the smaller pieces on new lines.

The same wife I helped clean and salt fish was there, and Andry and I helped her plant a line. We sat in the sand in the water, and the Indian Ocean was warm. I chatted through Andry about how we plant Alaska kelp, and soon we had our line planted. The lady said before we started, and just in passing, that she paid 400 ariary to plant a line, and when I asked for our money, she said she had to dock me 100 ariary for eating some of the seaweed. Tough boss.

We went back to the landing and watched beautiful sailboat after sailboat sail in, on their way, apparently, to the salt mine at the head of the “inland sea” to haul salt. When our boat arrived, two others asked to go to town. An old, somewhat feeble Pa with a tattered bucket hat, and a middle age man in good health. I put the Pa in the padded middle seat in front of the steering console – the most comfortable seat on the boat – out of respect.

When we got back to Ecolodge, 3 Frenchmen came in at the same time in a guided canoe with outrigger with a PILE of fish. The biggest was about 50 lbs. A couple were bright red.

Then, the French husband owner of the Ecolodge showed up in their side by side ATV. I thought to pick up the fish. But no – they had a man who needed medical attention. Four men carried him to the boat I just got off, and away they went. To Morondava I assume, but not sure. I later found out it looked like the man had an appendicitis.

I helped the Pa off the boat, and went up to look at the fish. Then the Pa comes with his his hands out. First I thought it was to thank me. Then I realized he wanted money. As always, I never know what to do in this situation as in all the crowd of people, I stand out as the big white guy. I thanked the Pa, took a photo of the fish, and walked up to my room to get out of the situation.

They covered the fish on the beach, at least. But the fish weren’t bled and not cleaned. And had been in the sun. The red ones were bloating. I was the only one who cared, of course. Apparently they will send the fish on ice to Morondava to sell.

Tuesday’s question of the day

Another great session with fishermen in Mekany today. The ladies were selling little fish they’d dried by the gobs to a buyer who had arrived, so it was just us men for the most part. We talked about the fishing business – avenues for sale, different fish products, planning for the big catches when prices would plummet by salting their fish to smoke them later and sell them at higher prices. We also showed them a weather app, windguru, and a chartplotter app, Navionics.

Then came a question that really got me tongue tied: are you rich from selling all the fish? I would always say I’m rich – because I have everything I need, I’m healthy, and all the money all need for the rest of my life. About anyone who knows me would never say I’m rich. I have a little crappy house, drive a crappy car, heat with wood, drive an old truck and about everything I have I bought used. To anyone sitting in our meeting under the shade of a tree, who make less in a month than they pay me in per diem for a day, and who were selling their dried fish for 30 cents a pound today, I’m a gazillionaire.

So, I uhmed and aaahed and didn’t really have a good answer for them. And that, I think, is how it should be. Because maybe there is no good answer.

Monday, and back to the grind in Belo sur Mer

We went to Mekany today. A little town an hours walk by beach from Belo sur Mer, or 20 minutes or so by boat.

A small group of fishermen and their wives who sell the fish, and in this town, grow seaweed, with a few kids, were our audience. Although this community is more remote than others I’ve worked in, these guys seem like they have it together.

After I talked about caring for fish on their boats, as fish are sold in the round here, usually with no refrigeration, they seemed to immediately agree the fish WOULD be better quality if they cleaned them on board, kept them in a clean container, and kept them as cool as they could with ice, ice frozen in water bottles, or if they can’t find anything else, a wet burlap bag or wet piece of old sail. But, they said: let us check with our customers first. WOW. These guys get it. I’m excited now.

Then after talking about sea cucumber farming here, we went to look at a site where they had a test plot once. They got some cukes from the nursery in Tolear, the center of cuke farming here, to see how it would work. It worked great…….until someone stole the sea cucumbers. They are worth a fortune, relatively speaking, here, and the farms in Tolear now employ a guard in a tower in the center of the farm who watches over the place 24 hours a day to guard against thievery.

The best part of it looking at the site was that they sent a kid with us who smokes fish! That’s what he does. He buys fish fresh, smokes them, and then sells them.

We’re cooking with gas, now.

So, I talk to him about asking around to the lodges about smoking their clients fish. Then tell him how vital that service is to us in Juneau for my customers and the whole town. He likes the idea.

Today I somehow see the seaweed farm in a new light. It’s impressive. About a mile long, with float lines about 15 feet wide made of empty water bottles about every 15 feet. I can’t exactly tell if the seaweed lines run parallel to the beach or perpendicular to the beach, but no matter. It’s a serious kelp farm in my book, and they are able to work it by “hand” at lower tides, where I’m guessing the water is up to their waist or chest, so don’t need a boat to tend it. And, you won’t get cold in this water. It’s warmer than any pool I’ve been in.