So what is reefnetting?

Reefnet gears in Legoe Bay

You have probably heard of gill-netting, purse-seining, trawling, and maybe even long-lining; all of which are common commercially practiced ways of catching fish. They all have their positive and negative aspects for the fisherman, communities, the fish, and the ecology of the seas. Information about them is everywhere if you are looking.

Originally using materials such as nettles and sea grass to create the gear, reefnetting has gone through incredible changes in the past 100 years. Here lies an old disused gear from the 60's? Stowed near the bay in a reefnet gear graveyard, it is slowly succumbing.

Reefnetting is different. It is a way to catch fish, essentially only practiced on Lummi Island in Washington State, but has been practiced for generations and generations by communities, both native, and now for the past 100 years, primarily white Lummi Islanders. I will try to explain the process, but for diagrams and other pics and video see: Lummiislandwild.com

Gears set in Legoe bay. The reef lifted during a strong tide to prevent damage.

A natural fish trap of sorts, Reefnetting uses the migratory path of Salmon through Legoe Bay to produce an effective, though sustainable operation to catch small commercial quantities of Salmon. With two head buoys anchored 100 feet apart at the mouth trailing two floating platforms suspending a 20 foot wide net 100 feet back, the gear creates a funnel with lines and streamers imitating a reef covered in kelp. Some fish swim up this 'reef' and as the fisherman on the head stand sees them and calls on it, solar-powered winches go reeling in the net and deckhands jump to action pulling in the net and the fish. The fish are dumped into a live well, where they continue to swim with the current until they are identified and subsequently either released into the sound, or have their gills slit and are bled out in another tank. From here they are packed in slush ice and sent off to a local processor.

Solar panels now installed make this a wholly solar powered fishery.

The benefits of this system abound. Being an inexact science, and requiring a tide to fish, hordes of fish are never caught, either spooking their way out of the reef, swimming right past the net, swimming low enough that we don't see them, Passing by when no one is there or just plain swimming around us.

'The sea was so thick with salmon you could walk from island to island'

I guess fisherman have always told tall tales! But who knows? Salmon have been one of the most important species in the North Western region of North America, and still remain as such. It is theorized and generally accepted that their practice of swimming up rivers to spawn and then die allowed ecosystems to develop and fill the barren land left by glaciers during the last ice age. So many different species have evolved to depend on the Salmon, that it is difficult to imagine what the Northwest would look like if the Salmon had never existed.

There certainly are not enough salmon these days to traipse across the straight walking on their backs, or even across Legoe Bay for that matter. The returning Sockeye population this year was unexpectedly very small. Four years ago, more smolts (young fish) were counted leaving the streams than had been counted in a long time. Based on previous rates of return, the Salmon commission predicted 12 million to return to the area, of which only about 2 actually showed. This is horrible news for Sockeye, and of course the fishery was shut down for the season, to preserve those that made it and give them the best chance at a recovering population.

Some believe climate change could be having a role in their disappearance, but what makes the most sense to me has everything to do with why I won't buy farmed Salmon. Some folks think that the parasites the smolts are picking up when they migrate past commercial salmon farms are killing a huge chunk of the salmon before they have any time to develop natural defenses (scales, body mass) to these parasites. Factory farming has taken a toll in so many other ways, it seems completelly plausible that it could be threatening the native salmon populations here. In Norway, where all the salmon farms are owned, their native salmon have long since disappeared. Still some insist that it is not the case, but whatever the cause, it is of utmost concern.

Ready... ready... Plop! A Sockeye is realeased after an extremely brief photo op.

Enter Reefnetting. Since reefnetting allows for the identification and sucessful release of 100% of non-targeted species, it is a particularly useful tool in the conservation of any species that is at risk. In this case, we were used as a test fishery to monitor the Sockeye and obtain genetic information for study of their various populations. Since we were able to successfully throw back any sockeye caught, we were still able to fish and continue to provide information to the Salmon commission. Some of the most memorable moments involved shuttling Sockeye back into the water unharmed, wishing them well on their way up the Frasier River. Make lots of babies!

Fish! A school is spotted from the Head stand.

This year was, however, a huge year for pink salmon. At one point during the season I heard the words "the biggest haul since 1954" in reference to net full of 300-400 pink salmon. One Reefnetter referenced the largest school they had ever seen, maybe 1000 fish in the net, way too many to attempt catching for fear of breaking equiptment or even scuttling one's own boat.

One fairly large bunch of pink salmon being pulled aboard.

While these numbers were promising, what was even more promising was an evening I spent with Angela watching the sun set over Vancouver Island to a symphony of jumping fish. I counted well over 100 jump out of the water and splash around the rocks we sat upon. Over that week and the next, after all fishing had already been halted by the Salmon Commission the bay and shallows of the island were alive with millions of pinks on their way to the Frasier River to spawn. Sitting on the beaches you could feel the world alive all around you.

the sound breathing with every crashing wave, Bull Kelp drifting in the kickback of the tide.
seaweed decomposing on the beaches, feeding back into the sea the elements it composed.
clouds beginning to drift over the land like a blanket for protection from the cold winter ahead.
winds pushing throught the tops of the trees and toppling seed rich fruit onto fertile ground.
salmon splashing in the shallows all around pausing on their long journey upstream to home.

The feeling of my place in the world was so clear and fit so well into the context of Lummi's beaches at the end of summer. Like crunching the colorful leaves underfoot in full autumn walking on trails hunting 'chicken of the woods' or pawpaws, or just plain walking enjoying the seasonal change and the feelings that come with it.