We paid the sun of one dollar for our first commercial salmon fishing license. For fifty dollars we bought an old sixteen foot falt-bottomed skiff with a ten-horse motor and awith our bamboo poles and a landing net we were in business. We rented moorage for our skiff at Donohue's Float in Tee Harbor, a well-sheltered harbor five or six miles north of our cabin. Early in the spring, while working on the herring pot, we had our 1941 Ford coupe shipped to Juneau by the Alaska Steamship Company. The vehicle provided us with transportation and a means to haul our salmon to Auke Bay or Jeneau fish-buyers. We had bought the car while Stu was in the service and had stored it at his brother's place in Auburn, Washington.
A year later we had prospered to the extent that we could reaplce the plank skiff and old motor with a new 25 horsepower motor and a sixteen-foot V-bottom open boat, a Reinall, which we bought for $300 from the owner of the float, Jack Donohue. I was elated. We were travelling in class now in a beautifully designed vessel that rode the waves like a sea gull. Not yet fully at ease on the water or familiar with the changing moods of the sea I felt much safer and comfortable, too. The decking over the bow provided a safe dry place to keep our lunches, extra jackets and other necessities.
The old flat-bottomed boat had given us many a rough ride, slapping the water until I thought my teeth would surely jar loose. If the sea was at all choppy we wore slickers to protect us as the heavy craft ploughed through the waves, dousing us with the cold water. Ilicked at the salt on my lips while bracing my arms against the seat of the old boat. The speedier Reinall enabled us to and from our fishing grounds much faster and even to outrun an appraoching storm--sometimes.
After considerable prospecting for a hole, we found the area around Aaron Island to be most favorable and productive for us. Only four miles across the chanel, due west from Tee Harbor, the tiny heavily-wooded island, ringed by sheer rock cliffs, had a partially sheltered harbor on the north end suitable for small craft only. Wild columbine grew above the small sandy beach where we often ate our lunch and later Stu gutted that salmon there that we caught.
One afternoon at low tide I had walked back to look at the flowers while Stu finished cleaning the salmon. When I turned and started back I saw the boat drifting away from the beach.
Stu! Look at the boat! I hollered as I ran towards him. We didn't realize the tide had already changed and the rising water had flaoted the boat. Stu took one look, pulled off his rubber boots, heavy shirt and pants, plunged into the icy water and with a few swift strokes swam to the boat.
I don't understand how that happened so quickly, he said when he was back on shore wringing out his wet clothes and slipping into dry ones. I just looked at it a minute before.
Gee, that water must be cold, I sympathized. What if you had a cramp?
I wasn't in long enough to get chilled, he replied. Besides what else could I do? We could have been stranded here a couple days and our boat wrecked on the rocks or lost.
Next time I'll stay with it, I vowed.
As far as we know my husband introduced strip fishing to the Juneau area. His combination of a limber pole, light weight line and freshly cut bait was unbeatable. The scent of fresh blood from the cut herring was a terrific enticement for salmon as well as other fish. By this time, beautiful and durable fiber glass rods had replaced the bamboo poles . . . |
