From the Archipelago: Chasing Atlantics

June-July 2001

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.
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by Alexandra Morton

Commercial net fisherman last summer kept turning up escaped Atlantic farmed fish-worthless to them

As the four of us bounced up the river valley in Steve Vessely's old pickup, I glimpsed the Wakeman River through the trees. She lay smooth and unhurried-a liquid serpent. Her head was sleeping among the frozen glacial fields, her tail sweeping lazily among the swans wintering in her estuary.

At a break in the forest, we stopped. Steve-wiry and strong at nearly 70 years old-hauled the raft out of his truck as if it were nothing. From there the two younger men gingerly threaded the inflatable through the brush and set it in a small back-eddy. Bristling with cameras, I followed, excited to finally be rafting the Wakeman. Some years 700,000 pink salmon, 4,000 coho, 18,000 chum, and 1,000 chinook spawn in this river and her tributaries. Historic numbers were undoubtedly much, much larger.

"The river's gin clear," one fellow exclaimed. "Don't often get to see it like this."

It was true. I could see every pebble and submerged log in a river which generally runs milky white. It was still too cold in the mountains for the glaciers to begin melting, bathing the river in its summer plumage. The water level was low. The dry winter was evident here. The Wakeman's ribs were showing, pebbly ridges breaking the surface in places.

Oh, the smell! When cottonwoods first push forth their young shoots, a scent like warming olive oil wafts in small, delicious puffs. The single trilling note of the varied thrush sounded dream-like from the leafing forest. My fishing buddies squeaked into the raft, rubber against rubber, their hip waders hitched up to their armpits. Friends since childhood, both were in love with rivers, and shared one mind about finding fish.

The lumbering raft sprang to life in the water and we began our seaward migration. With any luck, in a few weeks this route would be well-traveled by thousands of tiny pink and chum fry, freshly "buttoned up" after absorbing their yolk sacs safe in the gravel. From the instant they hit the currents their fate is sealed by the twists of DNA that are their inheritance. Would they have what it takes to avoid the swift, sharp-beaked kingfishers, the darting mergansers, the seals, whales, sharks, hooks, nets and tides of the ocean? Only time would tell.

"Here, this is the spot for sure," the two young men voiced in unison, and the raft bumped gently against the shore. As they weighed in the possibilities of using gooey bobs, Colorado swivelers, perhaps a pink worm and other such cryptic things, I explored. The riverbank was fine white sand. I rubbed the sticky bud of a cottonwood and held it to my nose.

"If this was a perfume," I thought, "I'd never wear any other scent."

Wolf tracks were pressed deep into the clean sand-a large one and a much smaller one. A martin's tracks traversed the pair and the spindly toes of a raven paraded beside. I wish whales left tracks like these. If they pressed enduring marks into the restless ocean I could know their comings and goings, who they traveled with and what they did. But I shook my head-no sense wishing for what would never be.
I have never fished in a river, but I know the sound of a reel peeling out line. Excitedly I rummaged in my backpack for a camera-video, black and white, colour? As I mused, I was reprimanded.

"Put those things away! Don't you know it's bad luck to take a camera out before a fish is landed?"

Seals and other marine mammels catch escaped Atlantic salmon, ingesting drugs and other additives.

I should have known. Fishermen have so many superstitions-lucky caps, bad luck days, don't open a can of milk upside down, don't leave a pail of water on deck, don't take a woman fishing. They were all reasons why the big one got away, but I obliged and zipped up the bag.

"Feels like a 12 pound, Atlantic buck!"

That's right, we were hunting Atlantic salmon in this Pacific watershed. These superb fishermen had landed six the day before, but the instinct of today's river fishermen to release all fish was so deep in them, they'd let them go. I, however, wanted those farm fish OUT of this river and so that was why we were on the Wakeman that day.

The guys didn't even own a net. The fish slipped between their feet once, twice and then it was landed. A 12 pound male Atlantic salmon. They caught two more and then lost one that could have been 18-20 pounds. Guess I jinxed that one as I got it on video. Never saw a wild fish at all. The two bucks had teeth marks made by other fish cross-thatched on their bodies. They were living up to their reputation-aggressive. The Atlantics were lying in the pools that Wakeman's wild progeny would soon traverse. Each tiny fry would feed the Atlantics we didn't take that day. The farm fish were fit enough to be here, fit enough to fight with the other fish in pool and fit enough to bite lures designed for wild fish. Their scrambled DNA-some farmer's dream-might see these fish through only enough life history to disrupt the wild salmon empire built by the natural forces of this coast.

Riding down the reaches of Kingcome Inlet later that day in my speedboat, the words of a top level DFO bureaucrat, Ron Ginetz, rang in my head: "In my view it is only a matter of time before we discover that Atlantics are gaining a foothold in BC. What should our position be? Prepare user groups for the possibility, and strategically plant the seed now, or downplay the idea and deal with the situation when it occurs."

Solving the problem by forcing fish farmers to effectively contain their fish was never even considered.

Several weeks later I went on a different kind of river trip. Jouncing up another dirt road in another pickup, my daughter and her pal, little Lucas, chattered and shared cookies. Lucas's mom, Claudia, runs the coho and chum enhancement hatchery at Scott Cove. Along with hatchery president, Billy Proctor, we were enroute to the Viner River on Gilford Island to check our results. Just before Christmas the three of us, with children in tow, had done our best to dig salmon redds (nests) and poured translucent dawn-tinted chum salmon eggs into the gravel.

I love doing that. I know digging redds with a shovel and not a tail is unnatural, but I can't escape the sense of hope each of those tiny eggs hold.

It's my species which has hurt their river. The Viner has become silted with the run-off of unstable, heavily logged slopes and many of her spawning beds can no longer hold and caress tiny eggs. The chum salmon run has plummeted from 60,000 to a couple of dozen. We cannot give them back the lost diversity of this run, but we can give them the chance to rebuild, by taking their eggs and planting them in the river above the worst of the damage.

Billy slung the little seine net over his shoulder and scampered down the bank. Water oozles stopped him for a moment as he watched these marvelous birds bobbing on rocks then darting along the river floor beneath the water. There was no debate among this team. Billy said "here" and we stopped. Claudia and Billy expertly threaded out the net and slowly swept across an empty pool. As the net came closer chum fry and yearling coho smolts materialized in the cold water. There was even a cut throat fry. The chum were probably the results of our efforts, though we can't be sure, but the coho and trout were not.

Gently the net was slipped away and the little fellows were left to the challenges of their life.

Three of us in Echo Bay, myself, Kate Pinnsonault and Eric Nelson have formed a stream stewardship group to check the streams, measure their attributes, watch for salmon obstructions and any impacts we can fix. I would like to suggest this is something everyone near a stream should try.

Eric, a log salvager, could tell any species of wood at half a mile away, but now he can read a river's health by its composition of bugs. If it's got predator species, that spells a healthy system. If the pH is right, fish will thrive. If not, something needs to be done.

The Echo Bay elementary school is now involved in monitoring the stream behind the playground. The Department of Fisheries and Oceans can get you started. This is one of their best initiatives. There are too many streams for the government to care for, repair, watch over and assist. But there are many of us spread throughout the coast and this is a job that can bring great joy. Form your own group or go it alone, but if possible take stewardship of a trickle near you.

Alexandra Morton is a marine mammal scientist and author living in the Broughton Archipelago.

The Fish Farm Front by Laurie MacBride Environmental groups are calling on the provincial government to step up enforcement of salmon farming regulations given the significant non-compliance found in a recent government investigation. Provincial inspectors found that: · more than 70% of the farms are using toxic copper-based antifoulant chemicals on nets, and waste water from net cleaning is being discharged in the ocean contrary to regulations · less than 1/2 the farms have appropriate containment for diesel fuel · the majority of farms discharge toxic disinfectant products to the marine environment as a means of disposal, contrary to regulations · only 1 in 5 farms have spill contingency plans, only 1/2 have on-site spill containment and clean-up equipment, and less than 1/2 posted the Provincial Emergency Spill reporting number on-site (despite the fact that farms are required to immediately report a spill) · some farms are not adequately disposing of waste · most farms are not adequately storing hazardous materials, pesticides and drugs · about 1/3 of farms discharge blood water into the environment contrary to the Waste Management Act, with unknown impact regarding disease transfer to wild salmon stocks · almost 1/2 the farms do not have adequate sewage treatment · over 20% of farms with firearms on-site for predator control were not able to produce the required provincial and/or federal licencing allowing for such use. "This report shows that the industry has a long way to go," said Laurie MacBride, Executive Director of the Georgia Strait Alliance. "It tells us that there is still serious non-compliance with environmental regulations and it proves that environmental groups have been right to say the salmon farming industry is not environmentally sustainable." "We want to see the salmon farm industry move to full compliance with the law and we want the provincial government start laying charges where laws are being broken," said David Lane, Executive Director of the T. Buck Suzuki Environmental Foundation. "Before there's any talk of expanding the industry, the government needs to implement all the recommendations of the Salmon Aquaculture Review and the salmon farm industry needs to clean up its act." A copy of the report is available at http://www.elp.gov.bc.ca/vir/cos/index.htm For more information contact: Laurie MacBride, Georgia Strait Alliance 250-247-8670 or David Lane, T. Buck Suzuki Environmental Foundation 604-255-8819