The salmon phantom

John Driscoll

April 7, 2008

Times-Standard

Salmon were one of the first wonders of the West on which I got hooked.

When I started fishing in Humboldt eight years ago, people would complain about only being able to catch one king salmon a day, but I didn't know any better. I marveled at a well-cut fillet, which on even a marginal fish was a substantial amount of one nature's richest food.

Then we were allowed two a day for several years and I actually had to come up with a couple of different recipes so family and friends wouldn't get bored. It was beautiful.

Now comes the drought.

It's no baloney, we may really not be able to catch a salmon off the Northern California coast this year. The Pacific Fishery Management Council may have heard hundreds upon hundreds of people testify as to how badly they want to fish, but it's going to have one hell of a time legally justifying a fishery. The crash of the Sacramento River stocks on whose backs ride the sport and commercial fleets is bad enough that the ultimate judge in the matter, the National Marine Fisheries Service, may not cut fishermen a break.

It's possible that there may be plenty of salmon in our neck of the ocean, salmon waiting to run up the Klamath. But it sounds to me that the fish managers are unwilling to risk any Sacramento fish that might be swimming with their northern brothers.

The likelihood of having no salmon season stalks me like a phantom. It's like I can't get a grip on it. To some people, I know it's even worse.

There's a whole fleet of retired men and women that are on the ocean every day it's possible. This is what they do during the summer. Many of them seem to have retired specifically to immerse themselves in the fishing Nirvana.

Truly, Humboldt County without salmon is absurd as Humboldt County without redwoods.

Of course there will be salmon, on the rivers, and that's a good thing. I wish river anglers the best of luck. But for many of us it's not the same as motoring into the Pacific in some undersized aluminum or fiberglass dinghy and hauling up a pristine, anchovy-stuffed salmon while whales blow off the bow.

This year, too, will pass. All we can hope is that it won't be our last year we wet our lines for salmon in the sweet swell of the Pacific.

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Source:  http://www.times-standard.com/localnews/ci_8837098