When in Homer, the Halibut Fishing Capital of the World, I suppose that one has to go halibut fishing. Well, anyway, I wanted to. I'm not a big fisherman, but I enjoy it, especially going out on the ocean to fish. I have hooked marlin, bluefin tuna, and yellowfin tuna out in the ocean and was eager to add halibut to that list.
Needing to be down on the Spit at 0600, I set my alarm for 0500, but I needn't have bothered. Sleep is not one of those things that I do well. I awoke at 0300 and couldn’t get back to sleep. I turned off the alarm and woke Ann at 0500. As I stepped outside, I could see, for the very first time during our stay in Homer, the lights on Homer Spit. The days in Alaska during the summer are very long and it has been mostly light while we have been awake.
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| 0500: First Time Dark Enough to See Homer Spit Lights |
Parking at 0545 on the Spit is a non-issue. Sure, there were plenty of vehicles there from others like us going out to fish for the day, but finding a spot to leave the car was a breeze. At 0600 we rolled into the office for Inlet Charters and let them know that we were there. While waiting for our captain to arrive, we walked a couple of storefronts down the boardwalk and grabbed coffee and breakfast burritos at an espresso takeout window.
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| Getting Some |
About 0625 or so, our Captain, Chris, met us at office and walked us across the street to the harbor where we set to looking for the other four members of our 6-pack crew. We were supposed to leave the dock at 0630, but the other four didn’t show until 0635. When they did show, it was clear that they had good reason. They were a family of four from southern Idaho, a grandfather, his two sons, and one grandson. The grandfather had had a stroke and his mobility was limited. The hunt for handicapped parking caused them to be late.
Making our way down the steep ramp to the harbor, we quickly arrived at our ride for the day. It was a beat old boat, well past its glory days, but it did have a spacious cabin so we could stay in out of the wind. First mate Ben helped us board through a transom gate and we were immediately greeted by the reek of diesel exhaust, cigarette smoke, and chum.
As you can see in the photo below, we were looking at overcast skies with relatively calm 1-2’ seas as we left the harbor and made our way out west towards Cook Inlet.
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| Sadie Peak Appearing in the Dawn Sky |
Riding at anchor, we were at the mercy of the sea. Ben rigged four lines with whole herring and showed us how to hold the bait just off the bottom and we started fishing for halibut. Every now and then, a wicked wave would sweep over the stern. I had on my rain pants which kept my legs dry, but my shoes were soaked. With my wool socks on, they never got cold though. I was layered up to stay warm against the stiff wind.
Soon enough, we started getting halibut in the boat, small ones though, chickens. Good eating, but not big fish. I landed the one you see below fairly quickly, but then I was last to catch my limit of two halibut. I ended up wrestling a monster skate for 30-45 minutes before we cut the line. We saw the fish surface about 25 yards behind the boat and could clearly see its pink wings about 5 feet wide. It proved too big for the tackle we were using, stripping line off at full drag like it was nothing. I was worn out after fighting it. Ultimately, I would get my second fish and then Ann's second fish.
Sitting in the cabin, Ann was clearly feeling the effects of the lumpy seas, the boat corkscrewing in the chop. The seas deteriorated as we fished. I nearly got tossed by a really rough wave. I felt bad for Ann, but I was busy trying to get that damned skate to the boat so we could re-bait and get the line back in the water. Of course, until we saw the fish on the surface, we did not know for sure that it was not a huge halibut.
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| Somewhat Green in Lumpy Seas |
Our limit of halibut on board, we hauled anchor and headed further into the Cook Inlet to start trolling for salmon. We trolled for five minutes or so unsuccessfully before Chris moved to another nearby location and we started putting salmon in the boat. By contrast to being the last to limit on halibut, I was the first to limit out on silver salmon, landing the first and biggest salmon of the day. My first silver was a healthy 15-pound fish, the largest Coho that I have ever laid eyes on. In a coincidence, the largest halibut landed was the first halibut landed.
Tired after wrestling a skate all morning, I was fortunate to catch my three silver salmon within 20 minutes. This gave me lots of time to retire to the cabin and look around. I saw either two minke whales breach or the same one breach twice in a row. Then minutes later I spotted a whale spout followed by seeing a humpback roll on the surface.
As we were trolling for salmon, I noticed that of the two lines in the water, fish were only hitting the starboard line. In fact, I was the only one to catch a fish up to that point on the port line. The starboard line was rigged with a lime green hoochie, a plastic skirt disguising the hook, while the port side line was rigged with a silver Coho killer, a metal troll bait shaped to resemble the sand lance, the bait species that the hungry Coho are targeting. I suggested to Ben changing out the Coho killer for a hoochie just seconds before Chris yelled out to Ben to change it. I rigged the hoochie while Ben helped others get their fish in the boat with a dip net.
Speaking of Ben, he was a walking caricature, a caricature of what I do not know. Effusively happy, short, stocky, bearded, and sporting fluorescent orange Grundens bib overalls over rubber boots and a white undershirt, he completed the look with a plaid tweed fisherman's cap and a stub of a corncob pipe. Popeye came to mind more than once.
Where fishing for halibut is more about brute force in getting the fish into the boat after it has swallowed the circle hook, salmon fishing is more like a ballet. The very active silvers are great fighters and are quite likely to get off the hook if you try to manhandle them. Bringing the salmon to the boat is a matter of keeping smooth tension on the line: too much, you pull the hook; not enough, the salmon spits the hook. I saw one salmon come out of the dip net with nothing in its mouth. It really is a dance.
The seas had eased off with the changing tide, the sun had come out, and the wind had died making fishing for salmon a lot more fun than for halibut. Ann joined us out on the stern and caught her fill, including a small pink salmon as a bonus fish.
After we pulled our limit of salmon, Chris pointed us back at the harbor and Ben got to work filleting the fish on the stern while we sat inside and watched. He invited me to fillet out my fish, but I was reticent of handling a knife while the boat was rocking from being underway. Besides, I had filleted my fill of fish on Monday. A convoy of sea gulls followed us back to port as Ben tossed the carcasses overboard. He cut open the gut of one of the salmon to show us the tiny sand lances in it. I have seen them before hanging out of the mouths of puffins.
Back at the dock, we were met by a guy from Homer Fish Processing who took our fish to have them processed and shipped back to Oregon. We would receive 45 pounds of frozen fish the following week. We were done by 3:30 and not having to be at the Inn until later, we decided to make one final stop at Grace Ridge Brewing where we each had a beer before leaving.
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| Read All About Alaska's Crazy Brewery Laws |
Earlier in the week, Mike had invited us to have dinner on Friday night with him and his daughter and her family who were to fly in from California. Mike had thawed a bunch of Argentine red shrimp and asked me to cook them while he cooked some rice to go with them. I rummaged the kitchen to find some tomatoes, garlic, and yellow peppers. I wanted to add something green but Mike had nothing of the sort on hand. Then I remembered the stinging nettles right off the patio, so I picked and blanched a bunch.
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| Shrimp Mise en Place |
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