Not too long ago nearly all working boats sailed. I keep this photo at the ready to remind myself of that. The year is 1942 and the magnificent six mast schooner, Tango, is loading its cargo at a Portland wharf. Steam-driven passenger ships and new vessels with diesel and gas engines would be moored nearby. But the War has abetted Tango’s longevity. I like to think that Rosie the Riveter and her Portland girlfriends have walked past on their way to the Kaiser docks to build Liberty Ships.
This puts my life in a new pocket, a different frame of reference: I arrived on the planet shortly after the end of an age of sail. As I exit, sometime toward the end of the short Age of Fossil Fuels, sailing working boats will likely have made their comeback. At least, that’s what I’m thinking.
Along the bountiful North Pacific coast where so many souls fish and so many souls sail there are certainly memories of doing both at once. Joe Upton, a superb writer who fished commercially for decades, says that Alaska’s gillnet fleet was not allowed to use power until the 1950s. Regulations favor fish and motors do not. Somewhere in the minds of old fishermen lie the memories and knowledge of wooden boats rigged with both sails and gillnets.
Halibut schooners are still around, though no longer operating under sail. There’s one at Sitka and we’ve chatted with the crew during their long hours of baiting hooks and arranging them artfully around the edge of the baskets (or are they plastic drums?) on top of the coiled longlines. While the schooner had been missing a mast, by this summer the bow spit – a magnificent 40 foot yellow cedar – had broken off. But she’s still pulling her weight.
Michael Crowley fell in love with halibut schooners as an aspiring greenhorn deckhand in Alaska in the late 1960s. When the docklines of the 65-foot schooner Attu were being thrown off and its cook hadn’t appeared, Crowley began his first of many seasons on halibut schooners out of Seattle. Not a single one was built after 1927 and most came from Ballard where he says “they were shaped with adzes, slicks, steam-powered ship saws, and the brute force and ingenuity of square headed ship carpenters and designers.”
But I only started thinking about sailing and fishing after Tora caught my eye. It was in the sleepy but well laid out harbor of Kake, Alaska. What is that? A sailing ketch with a trolling rig on the aft mast. Wow! That was on our northbound leg. (Coming southbound, on the cusp of salmon season, we followed Tova out of Kake Harbor into Rocky Pass toward the famous fishing grounds off Prince of Wales Island near Point Baker.)
I doubt that it’s efficient to simultaneously sail and operate a commercial troll, which involves managing a couple of dozen individual hooks and handling each salmon with respect. But sail boats are lightly powered and work well at the 4 knot trolling speed.
In any event, my eyes were opened. I started to look out for these hybrids. And Alaska revealed them (while British Columbia did not…probably having to do with commercial fishing regs).
Leaving Sitka – no one leaves Sitka without a smidgen of wistfulness – we spied a small sail wooden sailboat. And lo and behold she was rigged to troll. At Baranof Warm Springs, balm to all commercial fishermen, we saw S/V -F/V Blue raft up to a seiner at the dock. We never got to meet the skipper, who must have headed for a high altitude hot soak, but we learned Blue has a female captain.
When our Aurora made fast at Craig on Prince of Wales Island, an attractive neighbor captured my attention. Abundance is a triple whammy: a steel boat (I have a thing for steel boats), a sailing ketch and a fishing troller. I hung around, making numerous trips along a very long float to Craig Harbor’s laundry, showers and restrooms, hoping to get a glimpse of the captain. My heart sank when I looked up from my boat work to see Abundance leaving the harbor.
But the next day, she was back! Not at dock, mind you, but selling the catch at Craig’s packing plant. It must have been good because it took a while. I know because I watched and waited, hoping to welcome Abundance back at the dock. But the sailing troller just turned around and went back out to fish some more!
Sources: The photo of the Tango is, I believe, from the archives of the Oregon Historical Society. I got it from the Facebook page of the Oregon Maritime Museum, which is on the waterfront in my Portland neighborhood. Joe Upton educated me about trolling and gillnetting in Alaska Blues and about the Alaskan crab industry in Bering Sea Blues. Michael Crowley’s story “Greenhorn” appears in Leslie Leyland Green’s wonderful book Hooked!)
Salmon in the Trees is the title of Amy Gulik’s recent collection of photos and essays by Alaskan environmentalists, which draw on the genetic science of the temperate rain forest. The name was borrowed for the art installation we experienced on our way to a noon chamber music concert deep in the woods near Sitka; hanging in the trees were yard long salmon interpreted by local artisans, native grandmothers, and child artists. And it was David Suzuki who helped me unpack this concept one lazy afternoon as I sat on the deck reading his Autobiography.
“Science,” he says, helps us “tease out nature’s secrets.” Awed by its intricate, complex interconnectedness, we start to understand the folly of “managing” the environment.
Temperate rainforest supports far more biomass than any ecosystem on earth. Ours extends from Northern California to Alaska in a narrow band between the Pacific Ocean and the coastal mountains. Prodigious rainfall on the great trees carries nutrients away from the forest floor. How then does the forest continue to support huge red and yellow cedar, Sitka spruce, and Douglas fir once the nutrients are swept into the sea?
Suzuki explains. “Terrestrial nitrogen is almost exclusively 14N, the normal isotope of nitrogen; in the oceans there is a significant amount of 15N, a heavier isotope that can be distinguished from 14N.” The temperate rainforest is laced with thousands of rivers and streams and if the forest is clear cut, salmon die off. The shade of the canopy keeps water cool, tree roots keep soil from washing into spawning grounds, and forest creatures nourish young salmon as they make their way to the ocean. So salmon need the trees. And the trees need the salmon.
“Along the coast,” writes the Canadian environmentalist, “The salmon go to sea by the billions. Over time, they grow as they incorporate 15N into all their tissues. By the time they return to their native streams, they are like packages of nitrogen fertilizer marked by 15N. Upon their return to spawn, killer whales, and seals intercept them in the estuaries, and eagles, bears, and wolves along with dozens of other species, feed on salmon eggs and on live and dead salmon in the rivers. Birds and mammals load up on 15N and, as they move through the first, defecate nitrogen rich feces throughout the ecosystem…A single bear may take from six hundred to seven hundred salmon. After a bear abandons a partially eaten salmon, ravens, salamanders, beetles, and other creatures consume the remnants.”
Researchers at the University of Victoria have demonstrated this redistribution of nitrogen: years when there are large salmon runs produce wide growth bands in trees and increased amounts of 15N contained in them. Salmon hold everything together.
“Our fragmented human efforts at environmental protection pale in comparison. They do not respect interdependence.” Referring to his native British Columbia, Suzuki explains why. “The whales, gales, bears, and wolves come under the jurisdiction of the ministry of the environment, and the trees are overseen by the ministry of forests. The mountains and rocks are the responsibility of the minister of mining, and the rivers may be administered by the minister of energy (for hydroelectric power) or the minister of agriculture (for irrigation).”
And the salmon? They come under the Department of Fisheries and Oceans for commercial fishing, under another department for the First Nations’ food fishery and under the tourism ministry for sports fishermen.
In 1992, years before all this was well understood, the co-founders of the fledgling David Suzuki Foundation went to Earth Summit at Rio with this Declaration. It captures my evolving awareness.
Declaration of Interdependence
THIS WE KNOW
We are the earth, through the plants and animals that nourish us. We are the rains and the oceans that flow through our veins. We are the breath of the forests and the land and the plants of the sea. We are human animals, related to all other life as descendants of the firstborn cell. We share with these kin a common history, written in our genes. We share a common present, filled with uncertainy. And we share a common future as yet untold.
We humans are but one of thirty million species weaving the thin layer of life enveloping the world. The stability of communities of living things depends on this diversity. Linked in that web, we are interconnected–using, cleansing, sharing and replenishing the fundamental elements of life. Our home, planet Earth, is finite; all life shares its resources and the energy from the Sun, and therefore has limits to growth. For the first time we have passed those limits. When we compromise the air, the water, the soil, and the variety of life, we steal from the endless future to serve the fleeting present.
THIS WE BELIEVE
Humans have become so numerous and our tools so powerful that we have driven fellow creatures into extinction, damed the great rivers,torn down ancient forests, poisoned the earth, rain and wind, and ripped holes in the sky. Our science has brought pain as well as joy; our comfort is paid for by the suffering of millions. We are learning from our mistakes, we are mourning our vanished kin, and we now build a new politics of hope. We respect and uphold the absolute need for clean, air, water, and soil. We see that economic activities that benefit the few while shrinking the inheritance of many are wrong. And since environmental degradation erodes biological capital forever, full ecological and social cost must enter all equations of development. We are one brief generation in the long march of time; the future is not ours to erase. So where knowledge is limited, we will still remember all those who will walk after us, and err on the side of caution.
THIS WE RESOLVE
All this that we know and believe must now forever become the foundation of the way we live. At this Turning Point in our relationship with the Earth, we work for an evolution from dominance to partnership, from fragmentation to connection, from insecurity to interdependence.
Intro to an ongoing reflection on a key issue of our day
Cruising is an opportunity to use time generously and seek knowledge differently. It’s a chance to ask questions and to take the time to talk to people you meet, to hone questions so you can make good use of rare opportunities to use the Internet or to visit libraries.
One big set of questions carried over from last year involve fish as food and the political economy of fishing. ......
What exactly are the issues that seem to be tearing apart communities? What’s with those Prince Rupert fishing families who hate fish farming with a such a vengeance? What about the commercial fishermen in Sitka who refer to sports fishing guides as “charter scum” and called them even worse a few years ago. And what about Native people lamenting the loss of their shellfish to the protected sea otters, that they alone can hunt but whose pelts that cannot legally take to market?
After another six weeks in fishing communities this summer, I confess to being nowhere on my fish politics. Fishing is at the heart of Alaskan politics and in the hearts of Alaskans who feel the pain and loss the BP sea floor gush has wracked on the communities in the Gulf of Mexico. I just know that the issues are unfathomly complex and cut across predictable orientations. So far my political analysis goes little deeper than noticing the bumper stickers on fisherman’s cars in the harbor parking lot. The whole time in Alaska, I saw only one McCain-Palin sticker and it was coupled with the terse four-word classic – CUT – KILL – DIG – DRILL – as well as a whole set of fairly nasty right wing ones. But the worst stereotypes of Alaska are hardly prevalent in Southeast. (By the way, parking lot slide show includes dogs. Dogs in Alaska seem to stay put untethered; you often encounter them peering down patiently from the roofs of the cabs of their owners’ pickups.)
When the conversation is about the depletion of stocks, the dying of seaside communities, the dangers and risks of commercial fishing,and the very different dangers and risks of fish farming, it seems our duty as consumers to engage wholly, to figure it out. Please be patient with my attempts to do so.
Paul Greenberg and his Four Fish
After hearing Terry Gross interview Paul Greenberg, Four Fish: The Future of the Last Wild Food, I realize I need to read his book. Greenberg looks at salmon, tuna, bass and cod, the fish that have fallen victim to our dams and to the “global sushi binge”. He asks us to get rid of the term seafood (fruits de mer) as it implies that we have the right to just reach down and take). He begs us to start thinking of fish as wildlife, as animals to be protected rather than consumed.
Says Greenberg, “The way humans have used fish, we started inland and moved further and further offshore. Salmon represent that first step. Salmon spawn in freshwater rivers. They’re nearby. And we have this very close interaction with them where we live. So they were one of the first fish that we really hit hard with industrialization. Dams and pollution and all of these different things caused wide-scale extirpation of salmon, particularly Atlantic salmon, throughout their range. And now what we’ve seen is, salmon was really the first large-scale domestication project for the fish that we eat. There are many more farmed salmon in the world than wild salmon, and it’s a kind of replacement of a wild-food system with a domestic-food system that has started to kind of be kind of a model moving forward.”
Four Fish is a timely and insightful book; try this meaty excerpt.
Update: Conversation with Paul Greenberg
Back home in Portland on August 10, I had the chance to hear Greenberg speak at Powell’s. After a short intro and a passage or two from Four Fish, Greenberg turned the floor over to his well-informed audience, largely made up of commercial and sports fishermen and chefs.
Greenberg started by explaining his book’s title. In doing research, he waded through old menus from 19th century New York restaurants. Among the offerings were dozens of sorts of game, fowl and fish. In contrast, today’ menus seldom offer more than four kinds of meat (beef, pork, lamb and perhaps goat) and four kinds of fowl (chicken, turkey, duck and goose). As the biodiversity of the wild food of the sea becomes diminished, we are seeing the domination of four fish: salmon, cod, bass, and tuna. In the book he traces each of the fish through wildness and domestication. fast.
Then came some hard hitting points:
World catch has remained a fairly constant 80-90 million tons
World population has doubled.
The amount of fish American are eating has doubled.
We’re marketing and eating the large fish rather than the ones farther down on the chain.
“The consumer has led us to the Boneless Era.” Boneless fish is in demand everywhere.
As for cod, the fisheries collapsed in North America in the 80s and so the East Coast cod banks were closed. Now cod are slowly coming back – Greenberg caught one recently within view of the Empire State Building – and there’s pressure to open the fisheries. Pollock fishermen insist they middle trawl, that is they drag their nets neither near the surface not on the bottom, but Greenberg says there is evidence to the contrary. Another issue with this type of cod is that pollack eat pollack.
Of course, Atlantic Salmon are key for Greenberg, who fishes in the waters near his New York city home. In fifty years all the wild ones disappeared. Today all Atlantic salmon are farmed. And there are rather terrifying developments in transgenic salmon. The introduction of a Chinook gene into farmed salmon has created a monster that grows twice as big twice as In defending their genetic engineering, Aqua Bounty points out that three pounds of forged fish are currently needed to produce one pound of salmon. The company claims that transgenic monster fish will not deplete forage fish stocks as much.
As for fish farming:
It’s fairly new, launched in the US by former Peace Corps volunteers who had worked in Africa.
Since there are no wild salmon south of the equator, Chilean farmers do not have to face issue of whether farmed salmon can compromise wild stocks.
Farmed striped bass is a hybrid.
A positive development in fish farming is polyculture in which salmon, mussels, sardine and sea cucumbers might all be farmed together.
In response to a question about programs to certify fish as sustainable, Greenberg says be aware of two ecologies at work. First is the wildness of the ocean, where you are never sure what the catch will be. Second is supermarket demand, which is certain and growing.
“What about hatcheries?,” someone asked. Greenberg says they are understandable on the damned Columbia but questionable in Alaska, as it is not sure necessary and they certainly reduce genetic diversity.
Several folks asked about Alaska’s Pebble Mine, at the headwaters of Bristol Bay. The mine promises yield of $300 billion in gold, molybdenum and copper, whereas Bristol Bay salmon is valued at $300 million per year. Injunction and court order on this case will come in November. Action to stop mine is led by Save Bristol Bay. The mine is on tribal lands, but tribes are split between for, against and not taking a stand.
Update: Ah ha! It’s wild chum we’ve been eating.
The food section of The Oregonian for August 17, 2010 brings an article lauding “keta salmon” The sometimes maligned “chum”, or “dog” salmon, this fish combines affordability, sustainability and flavor.
My online dictionary large North Pacific salmon that is commercially important as a food fish. The unfamiliar name comes from the Latin genus Oncorhyncus keta, family Salmonidae. This solves the mystery of how I’ve been buying wild salmon for $3.999 a pound, occasionally less on special. In fact, the Kroger supermarket QFC, where we shopped in Port Hadlock, is specifically mentioned as an outlet; Fred Meyer is part of the same group. But try to find wild chum among the vastly more costly chinook, coho and sockeye at a high end fish monger? No way. Best fishing grounds are Southeast and Prince William Sound, where it is caught by seiners and gill netters of Seattle’s Trident Seafood, among others.
Earlier this summer Yukon River chum won an award which suddenly pushed the variety to the foodie front pages of the lower 48 and to the front pages of the Alaska papers. On August 13, 2010, the Seattle P-I posted “Yukon River chum: Fairy-tale ending for salmon’s poor stepsister.” After swimming 2,200 miles upstream, the chum are oilier and contain more Omega-3s than kings and coho from elsewhere. Here’s some market data for this season’s range of salmon prices in Seattle:
For starters, the fish are available, enjoying a relatively healthy run at a time when many other fisheries are crashing. The famed Yukon king salmon, which won a cover spread in Saveur this year and was dubbed one of the year’s “best new ingredients” by Food & Wine magazine, was practically nonexistent this summer. The Copper River run was poor, and prices for kings began at more than $40 a pound, placing it firmly in luxury territory. Consumers want more options when it comes to buying fish: They’re regularly bombarded with advice to eat more of it for better health – yet they’re also constantly warned about pesticides, depleted supplies, contaminants, environmental crises and other red flags.
Affordability is another big selling point: It’s a serious investment to fly fish in from remote Emmonak, but the chum is still cheap compared with its more respected Alaskan cousins – most recently $5.99 per pound for whole fish or $8.99 for fillets at Wild Salmon (compared with $2.99 for non-Yukon chum.)
Social factors are also influencing consumer choice. The 320 Yup’ik fishermen of Emmonak have had a rough year with the shrinking of the chinook, or king, harvests.
Says one high end fish monger, “You’re supporting an economy, you’re supporting a people that have got a history and a culture that also goes with the fish. … Everybody wins.”
Over past three years since this post was first written, I’ve become more aware of the complexity of Fish Politics, particularly the vulnerability of fish stocks and of the lives of the those who catch them for us. I continue to add to the list below.
“Drug waste harms fish: Discharges from pharmaceutical factories contaminate rivers on three continents.“Nature. 15 Aug 2011. Here’s a quote: United States, the European Union, the United Kingdom and France do not have regulations limiting the concentrations of pharmaceuticals released into the aquatic environment in either municipal wastewater or in effluent from manufacturing facilities. “People think drug release is regulated, but its not,” says Joakim Larsson, a pharmacologist at the University of Gothenburg in Sweden, and an author of one of the Indian studies.”..
New England cod and haddock fisheries are 37 times more dangerous than being a cop! Fishing in Alaska, however, has become safer (possibly prompted by two disastrous same-day capsizings of new mega crabbers and the deaths of 14 young people from Ancortes, Washington, poignantly reported by Joe Upton in Bering Sea Blues.) “Trying To Tame The (Real) Deadliest Fishing Jobs” is an August 22, 2012 report from the Center for Public Integrity, WBUR in Boston and NPR News. See also CPI’s Hard Labor reporting. on workplace safety.