I learned about the five species of Alaskan salmon years ago when the girls were only 7 years old. It was our first visit to Alaska. We were on a cruise, and we each picked one excursion. I chose fishing, as I did on every vacation, and Brant and the girls kindly participated in my passion, though not one of them enjoyed fishing.
That morning, our fishing guide held up his hand and showed us the easiest way to remember the salmon names. He’d pointed at the girls with his index finger and said, “Your pointer is for the sockeye.”
Then he held a hand up, fingers touching, and continued, “Your tall middle finger is the king, your ring finger is the silver, and your pinky is for the pink salmon.”
“You forgot your thumb,” Kayla noted.
“Well,” he said, “Your thumb is your chum.” The girls had wiggled their thumbs, clueless about what a chum looked like, but they’d recited that rhyme more than once throughout the remainder of our cruise.
We caught fish on that charter, and our guide had pulled up onto a small island in Ketchikan Bay and cooked our fish before our eyes. Brant, Kayla, and Starr enjoyed the fresh fish. I asked a million questions about salmon, and Alaska, and fishing in Alaska. I told Brant I wanted to return to Alaska and fish more. He took stock of the hope in my eyes and the enthusiasm in my voice. “You will,” he stated.
And I did.
On one trip, I learned about the Silver Salmon Derby in Seward. The competition took place in August, right around my family’s most beloved week on the Island — Illumination Night, Ag Fair, and O.B. fireworks.
The Silver Salmon Derby became a dream.
A dozen years later, the pieces fell into place. I would be able to fish the first two and a half days of the Derby, catch a redeye, and be home on the Vineyard before my parents and niece and friends arrived and the festivities began.
Maddie Lopes and I had been in Alaska for two weeks, hiking lots and fishing some (me) before the start of the Silver Salmon Derby. I was so excited last Friday night that I could barely sleep. The Derby began on August 10 at 6 am, and I was scheduled to be on an all-day charter with Capt. Eric, who’d come highly recommended from a captain I’d fished with on a previous visit.
I boarded the Harvester and met my five fellow fishermen, two women and three men. We talked fishing, and weather. Wind, rain, and high seas were predicted — for all three days I’d be fishing. Capt. Eric said he’d get us out of Resurrection Bay for a couple of hours, and try to get us on some salmon before the wind and swells increased and we had to head back into the bay.
When we got to our first spot, the waves were gentle, and Capt. Eric, who could double for Bradley Cooper, geared us up with 5-ounce weights and hoochie lures. We targeted rockfish first. Long slow jigs off the bottom, about 100 feet down. I caught my three-fish quota of rockfish quickly, and switched over to herring to target salmon.
While I was jigging at midwater level, Kristy Hand was reeling her hoochie in without a rockfish on it when she got a bite. She reeled fast, as Capt. Eric grabbed the net and announced she had a salmon. When the fish came into sight, we all gasped. She had a nice-size silver on the line — over 10 pounds for sure.
Last year the winning silver weighed 13.98 pounds. In the 69 years of the Derby, the heaviest silver salmon weighed in topped the scales at 22.24 pounds in 2002. With Kristy’s fish safely in the boat, we all lowered our bait and raised our hopes.
I felt my first coho, or silver, hit soft and nearly go slack. The fish was swimming up, toward the boat. I cranked fast. Eric netted my fish. It wasn’t as big as Kristy’s, but I’d caught my first silver salmon, and I was going to weigh in! Capt. Eric had found a honey hole of salmon. I caught my second silver, smaller than my first, but weighable. Everyone had two or three silvers by this point.
You don’t release silvers, unless they’re small. I did catch one “fry,” comparable to our rat blues, and released him. With two fish on the boat, I only had one tag left for the day.
Four anglers had their three silvers. Lewis Barrows, 16, was jigging for his third alongside me. Unlike my first two keepers, the third one hit like a bluefish, and jumped five or six times like a blue. This fish was fun, and my biggest of the day.
It was just before 10 am; the weather was getting worse. Our full-day charter was cut in half. We dropped a few lines in the bay when we reached quiet waters, but came up empty. As we motored back, Kristy asked where we registered. We all groaned. She’d forgotten to register. Her 12.60 salmon would have taken first place on the first day of the Derby.
My fish made it onto the board, taking fourth (8.44) and fifth (7.65) in the women’s division on day one. For one moment in time I was on the leaderboard at the Seward Silver Salmon Derby. It was pretty darn cool! I’m pretty sure Brant was smiling down from Heaven.
I hope to see you on the beach, and I hope a few of your dreams are coming true.
