SAVING STEELIES

STATE OF THE STEELHEAD

NEW BOOK WARNS ABOUT FUTURE DANGERS THE ANADROMOUS FISH MAY FACE

Up and down the West Coast – from the top half of California, to Oregon and Washington and even the plentiful streams of Southeast Alaska – steelhead and other anadromous fish that call the region’s rivers home could be or already are in trouble. Bainbridge Island, Washington, author Dylan Tomine’s new book explains some of the perils those fish face in his home state and other coastal locales.

Tomine’s bio refers to him as “a father, writer, conservation advocate and recovering sink tip addict; not necessarily in that order.” An earlier book of his, Closer to the Ground: An Outdoor Family’s Year on the Water, in the Woods and at the Table, was a National Outdoor Book Award honorable mention. He is also a producer of a feature-length documentary, Artifishal, made by outdoors giant Patagonia about the fight to save wild salmon. But Tomine’s goal with his latest project is, in part, a plea to protect the steelhead of Alaska, California and the Pacific Northwest.

The following is excerpted from Headwaters: The Adventures, Obsession, and Evolution of a Fly Fisherman, by Dylan Tomine. Reprinted with permission by publisher Patagonia Books.

Fly fishing for West Coast and Alaska steelhead and salmon has become a rite of passage for anglers. But a new book written by author Dylan Tomine o ers warnings about what has happened, what is happening and what could become of these remarkable fish. (MATTHEW DELORME)

Four feet deep. Rocks the size of bowling balls. Choppy on top. The big purple marabou settles into emerald-green water, comes tight, and starts swinging through the seam. I hold my breath and make a small inside mend. The fly slows briefly, swims crosscurrent into the soft water, and suddenly stops. The rod bends. The line pulls. And the river’s surface shatters.

As my reel handle blurs, I hear the hiss of fly line shearing water and watch in awe as the biggest steelhead I’ve ever seen launches into the air and cartwheels away three, four, five times. When I come to my senses, there’s only one thing to do: start running.

Twenty minutes later, heart pounding and sweaty, I’m holding the tiring fish on a tight line as it slips downstream into a chute of fast water. Unable to follow any farther, I clamp down on the spool and my fishing buddy leaps in chest-deep, plunges his arms into the icy water, and heroically comes up with an enormous slab of chrome. At 40½ by 23 inches, it’s quite probably the largest steelhead I will ever land, and one of five we’ve hooked this morning in the same run.

The Dean? Russia? Some other exotic destination? Or maybe a complete steelhead fantasy? Hell no. This was the suburban Skykomish River, 40 minutes from downtown Seattle, on March 14, 1997. That year, in the March–April catch-and-release season, I averaged almost two steelhead per trip. On swung flies. Fishing mostly in short three- or four-hour sessions before or after work. Unbelievable fishing, and even more unbelievable, it wasn’t all that long ago.

Today, the fabulous March and April fishery on my beloved Sky is gone. The wild steelhead population was in such a downward spiral that even the relatively low-impact catch-and-release season was completely shut down after the 2000 season. Heartbreaking? I can’t even find words for how I feel about it. I moved to Seattle in 1993 to be closer to the fabled steelhead waters of Puget Sound. A city where I could work, and a great river with big fish, less than an hour away – it seemed too good to be true. Of course, it was. I had planned on a lifetime of learning and fishing the Skykomish. Instead, I arrived just in time to witness the beginning of the end.

That’s only one river among hundreds of steelhead watersheds on the West Coast, right? What’s the big deal? There are still plenty of fish to catch in other places, aren’t there? And hey, if you aren’t a steelheader, why should you get worked up about some river closing way out in Washington? Good questions all.

I would start with the fish themselves. Perfectly evolved to thrive in both marine and freshwater environments, wild steelhead carry the ocean’s bounty inland as they migrate toward the places of their birth. And, as each watershed provides a di erent set of spawning and rearing conditions, it creates a unique race of steelhead. In the wild realm, there is no generic steelhead, only a range of fish with characteristics perfectly adapted to their specific rivers.

As anglers, we find ourselves seeking the small, free-rising “A-Run” steelhead of the high-desert Columbia Basin rivers; the “half-pounders” of Northern California and Southern Oregon; magnificent, heavy-bodied winter fish in the Olympic Peninsula rainforest and coastal Oregon rivers; the mind-blowingly powerful August steelhead above the falls on the Dean; the legendary autumn giants on the Skeena; the high-latitude chromers of Kamchatka and the Aleutians …

These fish range from 14 inches to 30 pounds, from 2 to 9 or more years old, from heavily spotted to nearly unmarked. And yet, they share several distinctive traits: a willingness to come to the swung fly; the speed and strength normally associated with saltwater fish; an individual beauty that possesses those who fish for them; and unfortunately, a future as cloudy as a glacial river after days of warm rain.

Why should we care? If you’re a steelheader, the reasons are obvious. And if you are not, the depleted state of wild steelhead populations on the Pacific Coast serves as a powerful example of a valuable resource squandered and a lesson for anglers and fish managers everywhere. On a bigger scale, steelhead are an indicator species, the proverbial canary in the coal mine of population growth and human consumption. In other words, the health of wild steelhead is a direct reflection of the health of both our watersheds and marine environments. Steelhead can clearly survive without us – the question is, can we survive without them?

Washington’s Olympic Peninsula rivers are book author Dylan Tomine’s sacred waters. They’re home to that state’s strongest remaining steelhead runs, as well as populations of seagoing bull

trout. (CAMERON KARSTEN)

stocks decline: People who aren’t aware of the old levels accept the new ones as normal. Over generations, societies adjust their expectations downward to match prevailing conditions.” –Kennedy Warne, National Geographic magazine

IN OREGON, WHERE POPULATION and development have only more recently become factors, the primary problem a ecting wild steelhead seems to be genetic pollution from the massive coastal hatchery program. There are certainly logging-practice issues and the resulting spawning habitat loss, as well as a long history of high recreationalharvest rates, but according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), hatcheries are the major reason 18 of the 21 distinct Oregon Coast wild steelhead stocks are now listed under the Endangered Species Act as either “depressed” or “of special concern.”

So what about the healthy runs of the far north, where wilderness rivers attract anglers from around the world to fish for larger numbers of wild steelhead? Well, the Situk River in Southeast

Author Dylan Tomine has fished all over the West Coast and spent five years guiding in Bristol Bay (below). He loves the fish he’s cast flies for and wants to continue to do so. (DYLAN TOMINE) Alaska, a small drainage famous for its incredibly productive steelhead fishery, certainly qualifies. Compared to other, more accessible rivers, recent average runs of 12,300 fish makes it a veritable bonanza for traveling anglers. However, a quick check of historical numbers shows that once again, we are fishing for crumbs. In 1952, the Situk had a typical run of between 25,000 and 30,000 wild winter steelhead. Today’s “bonanza” is really less than half of what it once was. On the Skeena in British Columbia, beyond the intensive and unsustainable gillnet bycatch and the indi erence, or worse, from [Fisheries and Oceans Canada] outlined earlier [in my book], there’s currently a vast array of potentially disastrous threats to wild steelhead circling this watershed. Despite the recent ban on North Coast open-water net pens, industrial fish farm corporations – with their proven track record of waste pollution, chemicals, and deadly sea-lice infestations, which easily spread to migrating wild fish, thereby decimating natural runs – are still fighting to place facilities near the mouth of the Skeena. (As a side note, it’s a well-documented fact that salmon farms dramatically damage wild fish runs, but has anyone noticed what a self-fulfilling market strategy this is? As wild runs decline, the value of farmed fish will certainly rise.)

Royal Dutch Shell is pushing to exploit coalbed methane reserves in the Sacred Headwaters, while other corporations seek to extract molybdenum, copper, and other precious metals, all of which would prove disastrous for the watershed. A pipeline carrying millions of gallons of toxic petroleum products is planned to run through the avalanche- and slideprone Skeena corridor. Rail cars loaded with Indonesian petroleum byproducts to be used as solvents rumble perilously upriver bound for the tar-sand oil fields

of Alberta. And timber companies have their sights on vast tracts of forest protecting critical spawning habitat.

That such damaging, yet profitable, industries are even on the table for what may be the most valuable steelhead watershed in the world is mind-boggling. It also demonstrates the power of the almighty dollar and what people fighting to preserve this fishery are up against. Not surprisingly, very few believe government, if left to its own devices, will make any decisions here to benefit salmon or steelhead.

This Situk steelhead and many other rivers’ stocks could be in jeopardy in the future. “Why should we care? If you’re a steelheader, the reasons are obvious. And if you are not, the depleted state of wild steelhead populations on the Pacific Coast serves as a powerful example of a valuable resource squandered and a lesson for anglers and fish managers everywhere,”

states Tomine. (TONY ENSALCO)

“In our fathers’ generation, they witnessed the complete collapse of the California steelhead fishery. In our generation, it was the famed rivers of Puget Sound. What’s next? We’re currently standing on the edge of the cli and time is running out. If we’re going to do anything to save wild steelhead, we have to do it now.” –Dr. Nathan Mantua, research scientist, THE FACT IS, STEELHEAD are under attack at every level: from federal policies favoring commercial, unsustainable fisheries, mining, and forest harvest practices to bungled state management operating under a philosophy of [maximum sustained harvest], to local municipalities’ sanctioning of development and commercialization. Suburban sprawl engulfs our river valleys. Forestland is cut to build houses and make toilet paper. Modern agriculture requires increasing amounts of water, while dam operators fight to generate more electricity – all at the expense of natural, fish-producing streamflow.

To mitigate these losses, we’ve come to rely on hatcheries, which we are now learning may contribute to wild fish declines as much as all the other factors combined. All this, and we’re only beginning to see the e ects of global warming, with its changing weather patterns, shrinking glaciers, catastrophic flood events, and higher summertime stream temperatures. Is it any wonder our fish are in trouble?

To quote Bill Murray in Stripes, “And then … depression set in.” I know, the numbers are staggering. The causes, seemingly insurmountable. The outlook, bleak. But there are reasons for hope, first and foremost of which is that wild steelhead are incredibly tough, resilient fish. As the glaciers retreated thousands of years ago, steelhead spread out, adapted, and colonized a wide range of disparate environments from high-desert sage country to coastal rainforest, from winding tundra streams to broad valley rivers.

When Mount Saint Helens erupted in 1980, sending a boiling mass of superheated ash down the Toutle River, for all intents and purposes, the river as we knew it ceased to exist. To see it shortly after this catastrophic event was to witness a thin trickle of water winding through a wasteland of broken stumps and volcanic mud. And yet, within a few short years, the wild steelhead were back, recolonizing and adapting to their harsh new environment. As Dr. Nathan Mantua says, “If we just give them half a chance, the fish will respond.”

So how do we give them that half a chance? Just as the threats to wild

Southeast Alaska’s famed Situk River remains a strong bastion for steelhead, but as the author writes, “In 1952, the Situk had a typical run of between 25,000 and 30,000 wild winter steelhead. Today’s ‘bonanza’ is really less than half of what it once was.” (TONY ENSALACO)

steelhead survival exist on every level, so too do the possible solutions. On a broad scale, since our governments seem to respond best to money, we need to remind the people we’ve entrusted with the management of our fish about the financial benefits of healthy runs and the resulting tourist and sportfishing dollars. We need to fight hidden subsidies and government sanctioning of resource extraction industries. We need to vote, petition, and write letters. Does it work? Absolutely. Just look at the ban on openwater salmon farms for the north coast of British Columbia. After years of hard work by a coalition of First Nations and local nonprofits, the BC government finally agreed with their citizens and implemented the new policy in 2008.

When possible, we need to provide alternatives to the status quo. If we look, there are some surprisingly simple solutions to a number of the challenges we face. For example, in places like the Columbia, Fraser, and Skeena Rivers, where commercial salmon gill-net fisheries intercept a high number of steelhead, livecapture fish traps or pound nets would allow safe release of fish from depressed stocks, while simultaneously increasing the quality (and thereby the value) of the targeted fish. Everybody wins.

We can also boycott farmed salmon from open-water net pens and explain to restaurants and markets that serve or sell it why this product is so damaging to wild salmon and steelhead. Turns out, most people have no idea about the harm it causes, and, when shown the facts, will happily stop buying or selling farmed salmon.

We should encourage – no, demand – that outdoor gear manufacturers actively give back to preserve the resources they depend upon, and support those that do with our dollars. We can eat local, organic food. Stop watering and fertilizing our lawns. Walk, pedal, or paddle whenever possible. In drought-prone regions, even not flushing when you pee helps.

The most valuable thing we can do, though, is to get directly involved. Of course, I understand most of us don’t have the time or resources to understand all the issues or wage a personal political campaign. That’s where grassroots organizations like Wild Fish Conservancy, Wild Steelhead Coalition, and Native Fish Society come into play. These groups are hard at work doing everything from political lobbying and litigation to scientific research, stream restoration, and funding steelhead-related projects. They provide the regular angler with the voice and clout of a larger organization, and distribute information to their members about issues requiring action.

As distasteful as politics and joining organizations may be to many anglers, it is, as author and steelhead aficionado Tom McGuane reminds us, “Now past the time where we can just go out and fish without worrying about the resource.” That’s pretty much what we’ve been doing, and look where it got us.

If you fish for steelhead or dream of someday fishing for them, if the numbers and issues in this story concern you, if you’d like to believe that we’ll have fishable numbers of steelhead for the rest of our lives and our children’s … the answer is simple: get involved.

For that matter, if you’re passionate about trout or stripers or bass or salmon or tarpon, I urge you to learn from what’s happened to our steelhead and get involved with the preservation of your fishery. As steelheaders know all too well, when it goes, it goes fast. ASJ

Editor’s note: Headwaters: The Adventures, Obsession, and Evolution of a Fly Fisherman, is available at patagonia.com/ shop/books. For more information on author Dylan Tomine, check out his website (dylantomine.com).

CAN COHO SNATCH THE KING’S CROWN?

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MAKING THE CASE FOR SILVERS AS THE STATE’S PREMIER SALMON TARGET

BY SCOTT HAUGEN

Could coho become the new king of salmon in Alaska? Or should the question be, “Should coho become the new king of salmon in Alaska?”

I know, it’s only May and the start of coho season is still three months away, while king salmon season kicks o this month and usually gets rolling pretty good by June.

Sadly, tradition and desire aren’t enough to replace the dwindling king salmon runs so many of Alaska’s rivers have been experiencing in the years. Some king salmon seasons have seen cuts in both fishing time and bag limits. Guides on some king fisheries are working less than half of the days they used to. Why? Because king numbers are so low and size averages are down in so many places, they want to take the pressure o these grand fish; it’s a conscious e ort to help save them.

And there’s something you can do, too. That’s put kings aside for a while and think about targeting coho in the later summer and fall months. Whether you’re a resident looking to put meat in the freezer or a traveling angler from out of state, consider targeting coho instead of king salmon. One of the biggest hurdles for many anglers to overcome is breaking routine thought.

For more than 30 years, author Scott Haugen has been fishing salmon throughout Alaska. In recent years he’s turned his focus from kings toward coho for many reasons. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

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SMOKER GIVES YOU FINISHING OPTIONS

BY TIFFANY HAUGEN

There are many options when adding smoke flavor to fish. Completely cooking an item in the smoker from start to finish is what’s usually thought of when smoking salmon.

Another option is to partially mix the ingredients that go into a recipe, giving the finished recipe varying layers of smoke flavor. Many times it simply comes down to time or desired texture when deciding how much to smoke fish. This recipe has two options: fully smoking with a glaze added while the fish is in the smoker, or partially smoking, glazing and then finishing in an oven or on the grill. Both o er excellent results, plus you’ll want to slather that honey mustard glaze on just about everything on your table.

HONEY MUSTARD SMOKED SALMON 1 pound salmon fillet

Ti any Haugen likes to use her smoker to produce delicious flavor from her salmon fillets. She o ers up two such options with this honey-infused fish recipe. (TIFFANY HAUGEN)

BRINE INGREDIENTS ¼ cup brown sugar 2 tablespoons salt 2 teaspoons granulated garlic 2 teaspoons granulated onion 2 teaspoons black pepper 1 quart water Wood chips (apple, cherry and/or alder)

GLAZE INGREDIENTS 2 tablespoons yellow mustard 2 tablespoons stone ground mustard 2 tablespoons honey 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice 1 tablespoon melted butter 2 cloves puréed garlic 1 teaspoon lemon zest ¼ teaspoon black pepper ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper ¼ teaspoon salt

Cut salmon to desired smoking sizes and leave skin on. In a large glass or plastic container, mix brown sugar, salt, granulated garlic, granulated onion and black pepper until thoroughly combined. Add salmon to brine mixture and refrigerate six to 12 hours.

Drain salmon and discard brine. Place salmon pieces – skin-side down – on a rack and sprinkle with additional black pepper if desired, then allow to dry and refrigerated one to three hours.

Preheat the smoker for 10 to 15 minutes and add chips of choice to the chip pan. Put salmon on racks and place in smoker. Smoke for two to three hours and replace chips one time.

In a small container, mix mustards, honey, lemon juice, butter, garlic, lemon zest, pepper and salt until thoroughly combined. Place a piece of foil underneath smoker rack to catch any drips from the glaze. Liberally glaze each piece of salmon on the top and sides.

Option One: Continue to smoke in the smoker an additional one to two hours or until salmon reaches desired doneness. (Note: Smoking time varies depending on smoker being used, outside temperature and thickness of fish.)

Option two: Remove partially smoked salmon from the smoker and place on foil or a baking sheet. Liberally glaze each piece of salmon on the top and sides and cook in a preheated oven or grill at 375 degrees for five to eight minutes or until fish reaches desired doneness.

Editor’s note: For signed copies of Ti any’s popular book, Cooking Seafood and other best-selling titles, visit ti anyhaugen.com.

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Everyone who fishes in Alaska wants a mighty king salmon, just as every hunter wants a moose. The starting point to preserving our king salmon starts with a change in thinking, so forget about kings – at least for a few years – and focus on silver salmon.

SILVER SALMON RUNS TAKE place later in the summer than kings; the fish are plentiful and coho occupy so many rivers and streams. This means you don’t have hordes of anglers congregating in small sections of rivers, as you do with king and even sockeye salmon.

Coho runs are also much longer, lasting months instead of a few weeks. August through October are prime times to catch coho, but there are rivers in Alaska where you can catch them as early as late July and as late as early November. Limits are also generous when it comes to coho, meaning you can put a lot of fish in the freezer.

As for the fight, if a 70-pound king battled as hard as a silver salmon, you’d be hard pressed to land it. Not only do silvers jump, they dive, they twist, turn and make long runs. Coho can be caught in very remote waters, where battling 50 fish a day is common, and you’ll never see another angler; it’s the ultimate Alaskan fishing experience, when you think about it.

COHO CAN ALSO BE fished for in multiple ways too, adding even more to the adventure and fun of catching them. Tired of dragging bait or backtrolling heavy gear in rivers all day for kings? Not a problem with coho. Coho salmon can be caught on jigs – both twitching and beneath a float – as well as on a variety of spinners, and even by casting shallow-diving plugs.

They can be caught on topwater plugs – something bass and pike anglers will love – and on poppers by flyfishing fans. Once you experience the thrill of a

In some parts of Alaska, coho runs begin in late July and go well into fall. Two Octobers ago, Kazden Haugen caught this beautiful buck coho near his home in Hyder, in the Panhandle. (SCOTT HAUGEN)

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Dylan Wills travels from his home in Oregon, where he targets king salmon, to Alaska each summer to take home lots of great-eating coho. He also catches and releases them in high numbers. (SCOTT HAUGEN) coho topwater take, you’ll be hooked on this approach.

Coho are easily accessed from the banks of big rivers, small streams and even some lakes throughout much of their range in Alaska, as they routinely migrate close to shore. They can be targeted in tidewater, too. Stripping and swinging streamers through an incoming tide is a rush, as these fresh coho battle to the very end and make exceptional table fare.

Once you’ve secured a limit of coho, you can keep fishing in many waters in Alaska. When releasing coho, don’t use cured eggs as bait, as the fish swallow them; also go with barbless hooks. Catch and handle the fish with care – meaning land them quickly and touch them as little as possible. Just because there are millions of these bright, gorgeous, greateating fish out there doesn’t mean they should be mishandled. We do not want a repeat performance of the dwindling Alaska king salmon numbers.

When releasing coho, get them to shore, fast, keep them in the water, revive them and set them free. Don’t net them, don’t pull them up on the bank, and do not hold them by the gills for a photo and then toss them back into the river. It’s something I’ve been preaching for decades and see happen way too often every season in Alaska.

When releasing tidewater coho, handle them with extra care, as they are much more frail than they will be once they acclimate to the river and their scales firm up. Do everything in your power to avoid mortality, period.

WITH KING NUMBERS DECLINING in many of Alaska’s streams, now is the time to change our train of thought and focus on a more abundant salmonid to catch, before it’s too late.

The answer to saving Alaska’s king salmon could lie in targeting coho and making them the new king of salmon, at least temporarily. ASJ

Editor’s note: For signed copies of Scott Haugen's popular book, Bank Fishing For Salmon & Steelhead, visit scotthaugen.com. Follow Scott on Instagram and Facebook.