Halibut for lunch, dinner, breakfast...

Are they all this big?

Randy I stand proudly next to our largest catch. In the background you can see the waters of Icy Strait and the mountains of Glacier Bay. Nearby is the towering Mt. Fairweather.

As a preview of the task to come, to clean a halibut properly, you have to reach your arm into the body until your hand is about where my right hand is in the picture. The size of these giants is breath taking. But more of that later. While we landed this specimen with the help of power gear, each year a few lucky and determined fishermen catch even big specimens with rod and reel from small boats.

Having learned to enjoy fishing around Game Creek, an invitation to work on the crew for a 6-day halibut opening was a treat. This experience and these pictures date from 1980 and 1981. It's one thing to walk along the creek, fishing the various pools with fresh schools of salmon heading upstream. If the salmon run was waning, there was the opportunity to pick up some fresh dolly varden. The flavor of fresh-caught fish is hard to beat. Yet our all-time favorite fish selection was beer-batter fried halibut cheeks. The problem is it takes a lot of halibut to get enough cheeks to feed 120 people. A commercial halibut fishing trip would give me a real appreciation for that pile of halibut heads we would glean the cheeks from at the local cannery. I did have an inkling of one aspect of the trip--halibut fishermen are known locally as "smelly wristers," which doesn't do justice to the aroma that develops during an opening. When a seasoned halibut fisherman passed through the local L. Kane grocery store, the pungent trail would remain for several minutes. Follow one at your own risk.

Four of us would be sharing a 34-ft. wooden fishing boat set up for both trolling and long-line openings. Because the halibut season attracted a large flotilla of fishing boats and crews, the Fish & Game Department limited the openings to control the total catch. This one would be for six days. Randy, Rich, and I would join Bob on his boat, Miss Valerie. Preparations were meticulous, with hours spent sharpening hooks, tying gangions, laying out ground line, and picking out enough food for the trip. Bob is a stickler for doing his homework to increase the chances for a successful trip.

Captain Bob surveys Icy Strait, hoping to pinpoint the hottest spot to place our gear.

This picture also provides a particularly good view of the boat's bathroom facilities. Did I mention that boat had no toilet, no cleaning facilities? Fishing would consume 20 hours per day, leaving a scant 4 hours for everything else. The result was an impressive aroma only exceeded by my two-day stint in a septic tank, but that's another story. However, our goal was not to achieve an everlasting scent, but to catch a lot of halibut and earn some much-needed cash. Home port was Hoonah, but we would be fishing around Point Adolphus. While this spot is dramatically situated off the mouth of Glacier Bay and looking out at the Gulf of Alaska, the attraction was the strong tidal currents that flowed around it, concentrating feed and the prized halibut. The downside is that the tidal currents created large choppy waves that tossed the boat vigorously, even when we were handling sharp hooks and landing numerous fish.

On the map below, we were fishing in the area of the word "Strait" on the north shore of Chichagof Island. Glacier Bay is due north.

With fishing gear all carefully prepared and stowed, menu planned and food stowed, and the holds filled with shaved ice, we headed out to the fishing grounds to wait for the opening siren. As soon as the official time arrived, each of the competing boats headed for their favorite spot and began setting gear. With no radar and no GPS to guide us to the best spot, boats would jockey for the best location based on landmarks on the nearby shores. It was also important not to lay your gear on top of another boat's ground line. At best it would lead to your line being cut and both gear and valuable fish being lost forever. Competing for the spot could bring out animosity and threats. While the sea looks uniform from the surface, the varying geography of the bottom concentrates halibut in distinct areas, and some of them are home to the jaw dropping giants that we were all after. The challenge is to translate the nautical charts into a hold brimming with enormous, valuable, tasty halibut.

In this picture Randy is cutting bait in the stern.

When the boat is being pulled backwards while picking gear, there is very little between you and the incoming waves. Picture yourself standing there about half way through a successful pick, with the line drawing the stern steadily toward the Gulf of Alaska, and directly into a rising wind-driven sea. Each wave looks bigger than the last, and surely the third one out will wash right over the rear of the boat. The only response is to put that thought out of your mind and focus on the simple mindless task at hand. After the opening is ended there will be time to worry. For now, there is only fishing, fishing, and fishing.

You can see the hook ends of the gangions on the rack in the middle of the picture. The pulley leads the ground line to the main drum used to haul in the gear. The left side of the drum contains the nylon ground line, the smaller section with yellow poly line holds the rope that goes from anchor to the buoy. The poly line floats.

To begin you attach a buoy and an appropriate length of poly rope to an anchor. From the anchor you attach up to a mile and a half of nylon line. As you feed out this ground line, the gangions (nylon braided line with a clip on one end and a hook on the other end) with baited hooks are attached every ten to fifteen feet apart. When sufficient line is set, another anchor is attached and then another brightly colored and marked buoy. You then leave the gear to soak for a set length of time. If the area is frequented by sea lice, the soak must be shorter, or you risk bringing in a harvest of fish that have been severely nibbled. We would normally have several sets in the water at the same time. The captain not only needs to pick the ideal spot to set the gear but has to take into consideration time, tides, and weather. Me, I just had to do what he said. When setting gear, several of us would be cutting bait and loading the hooks as the gear went out.

Bob is bringing up the gear after a good soak. Notice the shark hooks in the bottom of the picture. Each one was braided to 3/4" poly rope and was used to secure unusually large fish.

Picking the gear was always exciting as we eagerly awaited the fruits of our labors. The gear was always brought in slowly in order to ease the large fish peacefully to the surface. Some of the hooks would bear less desirable fish, like sculpin or other smaller fish, that would supplement the frozen bait we purchased prior to the season. Occasionally an octopus would have a firm grip on the line. Put one of those in a bucket and soon it would ooze right over the edge, making its way to safety. A bit creepy. Fortunately, many of the hooks had attracted halibut, ranging from small to immense. Ones below the legal minimum were promptly and carefully returned to the sea. The next size up would be dispatched with a deft blow from the wooden gaff, cleaned,and quickly added to the hold. As the halibut got bigger, the means to dispatch it would increase to a .22 then to a .38, and the really large ones earned a tap with the stun gun, which fired a .243 rifle shell at close range. That's why we learned to watch for bullets when we had the opportunity to harvest the larger halibut cheeks at the fish house.

In this picture I survey part of the catch from a fruitful set. The halibut are always stored white side up. It protects the white side from visible marks.

With the buoy safely on board,the power winch begins drawing the prized catch into view. In preparation, the cleaning crew puts on a bright yellow neoprene sleeve on their left arm to protect against the potent slime, particularly as you reach all the way in towards the tail to remove the egg sacks from the large females. Halibut over 40 pounds are always females - the males do not get bigger than that. The individual hooks appear one by one, and the first sign of success is the mouth. The bigger the mouth, the bigger the fish. Teamwork is essential as the steady procession of fish continues. Each fish has to be efficiently dealt with so the next fish will not be lost. Gaff the smaller ones, stun them, and flip them up for cleaning. When the giants arrive, heart rates soar and we put that much more effort into securing the fish. Some of them took two or three of us to haul onto the boat. The truly enormous ones we secured with the shark hooks and strong poly lines. Soon the decks were white with halibut bellies, guts, and slime. The standard position for gutting the fish is sitting on the low rail, bending over the fish. After hours in that position, it's easy to mimic a ninety year old hobbling down the street. It's important to remember several things about time spent picking the gear. Once you begin the process, you can't stop. You are committed. If the wind suddenly increases, you keep picking. There was no time for a break of any kind. Another feature of the boat we were on was the flat stern. The drag of the gear acts like an anchor, and since we were picking from the back of the boat, it turned the boat so it would often be facing into the wind, waves, and tidal rips. As we stood in the rear well, it seemed like the waves were close to coming over the end, filling the back of the boat and creating an unpleasant sinking feeling as we would be cast into the 42 degree seas. However, we were so busy landing the fish, cleaning them, and rebaiting hooks for the next set, we put it out of our mind. Fortunately, it never did reach that point. However, there could be other problems.

Early one morning, eager to pull in a fabulous catch, we were stunned when the buoy line got snagged in the prop, rendering the boat inoperable. Fortunately the sea was dead calm, so we were drifting peacefully. We weren't on the verge of crashing dramatically on the rocky shore but we also weren't catching any fish. We took a quick inventory of all the captains on board, and chose Bob to go into the frigid water of Icy Strait to unwind the clump that was binding the prop. With his usual forethought, he had his wet suit on board, making the fix both livable and surprisingly quick. Within a short time we were back in business.

On my second outing, we enjoyed a beautiful sunny morning as we cruised out to Point Adolphus where we confidently waited for the opening horn. Ready to get to work, we waited patiently for the time to pass. Suddenly sensing the boat was not sitting right in the water, we noticed that a drain plug had been left open and we were quietly sinking while anchored peacefully near shore. There's no telling where the problems can arise.

Long days and short nights matched the summertime lighting in Alaska. By the time we cleaned up and headed for bed, it was instant sleep. With the anchor securely set in a protective bay, final maintenance and cleaning tasks completed, and lead-like limbs, we finally eased into the cramped bunks for a few hours of sleep. Instantly the gentle lapping of salt water against the side of the boat lulled us into a comatose state resembling sleep, but much much deeper. I don't recall any sounder or more satisfying sleep. Somehow we managed to rise at 4:00 AM and start a new day. Another interesting phenomenon appeared after two or three days of fishing. By this time your hands and sleeves had developed their own peculiar aroma. The hard work spurred a healthy appetite but as you brought the food to your mouth, a quick approach-avoidance situation resulted from the strong desire to each fighting the equally strong desire to get that nasty smell out of here. Eating generally won. One particular meal I remember was a quick treat of fried chicken. Unfortunately mice in the hold had eaten into the packaging and made a head start on it. Hungry as I was, I easily overlooked that small detail. Only as I brought my hand to mouth did I realize just how repulsive my own wrists had become. Oh well, it was still better than skunk, and I was really hungry.

When the hold was full of halibut, we would cruise over to the nearby fish barge and sell the catch, freeing us to head back out to catch some more. The large halibut at the top of this piece was too big to bring on board. Using 3/4-inch poly rope, we looped one rope around the tail and ran another one through the mouth and out the gill, and used those lines to secure the giant fish to the side of the boat. When this particular specimen was weighed and measured, it was 7' 2" long and weighed 284 lbs. after cleaning.

Both years I participated we enjoyed fruitful fishing, good earnings, and a safe return home. It was an incredible experience but not one I would care to do every week. A warm shower, shave, and change of clothes returned us almost to normal, but the sights, sounds and victories over fear and fatigue remained.

After several days at sea, I may have lost that crisp attentive look we shared before the venture began. At least Rich and Marlin still look good.