Coastal Adventure Day 7: Quadra Island & Campbell River

Friday, September 15th, 2023

Today is a fishing day. Today is a day to make good on the age-old disappointments of the failed hunter-gatherer. Today is a day to try again.

"You're all a bunch of fucking losers" is the only clever thing I can think to say in greeting. It's early morning and in spite of my rising before the sun I am the last out of bed. Glints of pre-dawn glow pierce my sleepy eyes and I am greeted by the silence of my cabin-mates who have awoken to witness the sun and its new day. Their silhouettes are bundled in cozy pajamas and blankets, some with a hot tea to greet the first light of morning. In spite of my lack of grace in this moment I am in luck as the sun has not yet risen and I too am treated to its grand introduction; a truly beautiful sight.

I am surprised at the speed with which the sun breaks from its planar bed. Within minutes it is above the horizon and beaming towards the earth reminding us that it is time to get on with our day's mission; today we fish.

Our strategy for success has changed greatly. Today we meet with an old friend of my host who is a marine biologist, an experienced outdoorsman and a keen fisherman. We take the ferry from Quadra to his home in Campbell River and set out for the day in his Boston Whaler 150 Montauk considerably more prepared than we were the previous day.

Unsurprisingly, there is a great deal to know about fishing and under a marine biologist's tutelage, I am given a crash course. Once at sea we are guided by a depth chart and navigate along isobaths or depth contours which illuminate the complexion of the topography beneath us. I am told that fish will swim against current so knowledge of tides will give us an indication of direction. Moreover, fish (in this case salmon) will swim up and over topographical features much like they would upstream. With this basic understanding we are able to narrow possible locations of our prey. It also helps to look up and see where all the other boats are. We aren't the only ones out today; it is a maelstrom of boat activity on the ocean today. It's like a derby, but more chaotic. We must work to set the outriggers, poles, lines, flashers and hooks, all without getting tangled.... oh and someone has to navigate the boat.

With grace and ease our captain guides us on course and in our duties. I am amazed by how welcoming he is to this world and I am given an equal share of the duty and responsibilities. I am part of the team.

It doesn't take long before we are either good or just get lucky. Rods jerk and the boat's occupants whir into a frenzy of shouting, cussing and giving orders: "Hold 'er on that line!", "Grab the net will 'ya?", "Keep that line tight and reel like hell!", "My shoulder's fucking burning man!", "If she wants to run, let swim a bit!". It's chaotic, exhilarating, excruciating delight. One moment we're gazing at the open ocean, the next we are battling for our dinner while our quarry battles for its life. I can't believe this is a recreational pastime but it's an education I am grateful for. Bonding happens organically over the course of the day and true to the tales I had heard through the week we are graced with a bounty of six gorgeous salmon; two Chinook and four Coho (three of which are wild). We are able to keep everything thanks to an online fisherman's licence purchased that morning.... and some good data coverage.

Once back on land I am introduced to the marine biologist's beautiful family and taught how to gut and clean the fish. It is a savage and beautiful lesson that up until this point I have been insulated from by the pleasantries of urban life. As the latin proverb goes, "dulcius ex asperis" or "sweeter after difficulties". I have learned (not for the first time on this trip) a bed is so much more soft after a long day in the saddle, a shower is so much more cleansing when I am covered in sweat and road grime and I am so much for grateful for this fish having worked so intimately for its catch.

We arrive back at the cabin. I am exhausted. There are a few more fish to process (the weight of success is not for free) and dinner has yet to be made. I have no energy to write. I'll put it off until tomorrow.

So until then,