Salmon industry's dry year: Ban leaves fishers reeling

By Marton Dunai

CONTRA COSTA TIMES

Kemp, a commercial salmon fisherman who caters to the East Bay, had caught his first salmon that August morning soon after he cleared the Golden Gate Bridge. A sensor went off on one of his 18 hooks. Kemp pulled the lever on his hydraulic reel. While it churned in the steel line, he grabbed a six-inch hook attached to a wooden handlebar and waited.

"Here it comes," he said, and leaned overboard.

He struck, then swiftly lifted the fish onto the wooden deck. A single knock on the head, and the 20-pound salmon was dead.

That would be his only catch of the day.

After a seven-week government ban on salmon fishing this summer, such bad luck was the last thing Bay Area fishers such as Kemp needed. The entire salmon industry, including wholesalers, retailers and restaurants, was reeling from a sea change in the business environment this year. The sector may have lost as much as $100 million in revenue, and next year is looking shaky as well.

It began with the catch, which totaled 55,000 fish statewide in 2006 compared with 340,000 in 2005, according to the California Department of Fish and Game. High oil prices and rising interest rates have tightened the screws further, threatening the livelihood of Kemp and about 1,500 other commercial fishers in California.

The ban was inevitable, although there was no shortage of salmon in the ocean, so that one particular salmon population in the Klamath River along the Oregon-California border could be protected.

Salmon spawning in different rivers mingle in the ocean like people from different suburbs mingle downtown. It's impossible to tell them apart, so the federal Department of Commerce had to shut down entire regions to fishing along the Northern California coastline.

Fishers were portbound in June and July, traditionally the peak of the salmon season. Even once restrictions were lifted, Kemp and his colleagues could catch only 75 fish per boat per week. That's a good day's catch in a normal year.

Worse, the fish didn't bite. In the postseason, Kemp and his colleagues had trouble catching their quota.

"I did it once," Kemp said recently. "I caught my 75 fish only once this year."

In August, the Commerce Department estimated West Coast losses at about $16 million. By October, that number grew to about $30 million, said Zeke Grader, executive director of the Pacific Coast Federation of Fishermen's Associations.

Boat maintenance was delayed, tackle went unsold, consumption plummeted. All told, the California commercial sector alone lost at least $100 million, Grader said.

On the water, the dilemma is to stay out, burn diesel and hope for more fish or return to shore early. Kemp had planned to anchor offshore for the night, then continue prowling. Disheartened, he returned to Fisherman's Wharf. In the slush pit behind him was the one salmon, neatly gutted and chilled.

Kemp, who is licensed to bypass wholesalers, drove to the Hapuku Fish Shop at the Rockridge Market Hall the next morning. He once worked there, and the store now buys his catch. He was paid $7.25 per pound for the filleted fish this time, a total of $120.

"That pays for the gas we burned catching it," Kemp said.

When there's more fish, Kemp says he delivers thousands of pounds a week. Then he receives a maximum of $4 per pound, but he can usually fill the store's inventory alone and make about $50,000 in a span of six months.

This year, he barely made half that.

Fishers had it worst, but the entire California salmon industry had to adjust. In the past few years, businesses have relied on wild salmon for a heftier chunk of their income.

This year, Kemp couldn't fill Hapuku's freezer room, so the store turned to Alaskan salmon or sustainably farmed varieties from Scotland, said veteran store manager Evan Martin. Local catch often sold for more than $20 per pound, twice the normal price.

Wild salmon from Alaska and other species "pretty much made up for the lack of local fish," said Michael Weinberg-Lynn, owner of Osprey Seafood, a wholesaler on Pier 33. "Salmon is such a pivotal item. Customers here live by the season. Now, (we could) kiss it all goodbye."

Unable to get their hands on a steady stream of local catch, many restaurants abandoned their seasonal menus. The Walnut Creek Yacht Club normally boasts local wild salmon, but now offers the fish from Oregon.

"From May through (October), we had local wild salmon maybe 10 to 15 times," said chef Kevin Weinberg, brother-in-law and prominent customer of Osprey's Michael Weinberg-Lynn. "Normally, it's nonstop during the summer."

Even when the salmon was available, it was expensive at $14 per pound, up from $6 per pound last year. At restaurants, salmon dishes that once sold for $18 cost $23 this year.

Luckily for Weinberg, customers who wanted local salmon didn't mind paying extra.

"They are mostly affluent and well-read on fish issues," Weinberg said. "We always sold out."

Getting trout from Idaho or catfish from Louisiana has also helped supplement the fish menu, the chef said. He had to watch his sources, though: In the East Bay, people know their fish, so environmental choices often become business choices, he said. "Sustainability runs with the image."

"Ultimately, we'll learn to maintain a strong, sustainable California fishery modeled on Alaska," Weinberg said.

Alaska, where the entire fisheries administration is certified as sustainable, is a model for many fisheries around the world. A long-term solution to the present problems, fishers and industry participants agree, must involve such sustainable management.

Lacking such a system, or even the means to compensate fishers directly, California plans are short term. The Pacific Fishery Management Council, or PFMC, advises federal regulators about West Coast fishing limits. It's their task to come up with the framework for next year.

Anecdotal evidence suggests that the salmon run may swell in the Klamath this year, said Chuck Tracy, a salmon officer at the PFMC. Final results come out in February; a good result can help fishers to a less confined season next year.

Quota fishing probably won't return, Tracy said. The authorities surmised that after a short opening at Fort Bragg turned into a massive overkill over Labor Day weekend. Normally a prime fishing area, Fort Bragg is close to the Klamath, so the opening was to last only two weeks with a cap of 4,000 fish.

Hundreds of desperate fishers caught the limit the first day, but no authorities were on hand to stop them for another five days. If the area had a large concentration of Klamath salmon, authorities may have to tighten next year's season again, Tracy said.

Fishers who didn't go, including Kemp, were furious.

"This was really, really serious negligence," Kemp said. "How the hell are you supposed to manage your small business in an environment like this?"

The environment fishery officials try to regulate include the reality of hydroelectric dams, as well as the competing water needs of Klamath regional agriculture, tribal fishing and commercial fishing. Tracy said a comprehensive solution will take time. But, he added, "that's where the biggest bang for the buck will be."

The salmon industry, meanwhile, tries to face down the leaner times to come. Osprey Seafood's Michael Weinberg-Lynn recalled a phone rule he and his colleagues established.

"If you say, 'I remember when,'" he said, "I'll hang up on you."

Marton Dunai covers small businesses. Reach him at 925-952-2671 or mdunai@cctimes.com.