Wow, it’s so hot for this late in September.
The old school analog reading on our backyard thermometer hit 30 C a little past noon on the day I write this column.
Now it’s 10 p.m. and the mercury is still straining and edging over 20. This is definitely not moose hunting sort of weather.
We still haven’t killed our 2020 moose, but hey there’s time — tons of it, and surely cooler days and evenings will prevail.
I sweat gallons today while stowing in a cord of my spruce firewood.
I can only imagine what it would be like to trek out a moose on one’s shoulder, like the pre-ATV days. But I’m never going there again. The trike changed the world.
The food fishery opened last Saturday. My boat remains sitting on its trailer in our driveway.
Although the weather has been sweet and warm, the wind hasn’t abated since the autumn portion of our cod fishery started.
Actually, I wasn’t going fishing on opening day regardless, because I wanted to hunt moose with my buddies. It was even quite blustery for moose hunting.
Moose like to stay in heavy timber or sheltered wood when it’s windy, and our wailing cow calls don’t seem to carry through the woods as well.
There are hardcore windy day techniques that sometimes work but they require a lot of very quiet careful walking and tracking. It’s still too early in the season for those drastic measures.
Getting back to cod fishing and howling wind.
So, it’s Tuesday night and there’s wind forecasted again for tomorrow and Thursday. Friday looks good and then it’s back to gusty days again.
It’s looking like a one-day autumn food fishery for me.
That’s not what I had in mind.
I love fall fishing, and it’s the absolute best time to catch, salt and dry cod for winter.
Damn, I was really counting on Goldie and I catching 20 cod to pickle or light salt for winter.
Could we manage our recreational cod fishing better than this? I really think so.
Or I suppose I should say, could we somehow convince the federal Department of Fisheries and Oceans to come up with a better way forward?
Because we have a resource here that belongs to Newfoundland and Labrador, and it is the very reason that our ancestors settled this land. It wasn’t easy I’m sure you know.
They cut wood with an axe and bucksaw to build boats, stages and homes, to fence gardens.
Growing food crops in this rocky island soil was no picnic either, unless you settled in the Codroy Valley.
Did you ever notice the piles of rock, sometimes forming walls, piled where vegetables were once grown?
Those folks worked bloody hard. There was no need of treadmills and gyms in those days.
It rots me to the core that we do not manage our own fishery.
Principles of stewardship that matter and resource ownership disputes aside, no matter who lays down the law, let’s have a safer and more practical fishery. Restricting the time, days and weeks that we can fish is not the best way.
I’m tempted to launch in 40 km/h of wind and go fishing like a fool. There was a time I would do just that, but now I have a tad of sense.
I’ll go rake berries for wine in the wind, the wind on the hills that will blow the leaves out.
Why couldn’t I have fished last Friday when the weather was lovely, or maybe next week in calm October seas, or the week after? Who cares, as long as I don’t overfish?
How about the summer fishery?
Some might say, “Paul, why didn’t you catch all the fish you wanted back then?” Well, there are good reasons, to me anyway.
I have other interests, like family holidays, salmon fishing, camping and so on.
Let’s see here. I’ll do the math.
I catch fish for my two daughters and their families. We all love fish. We could really use 100 cod for the season.
Goldie and I fish together most of the time, so we are allowed 10 fish per trip. We need 10 successful days on the water. And the fish don’t bite every day. That’s why it’s called fishing and not fish getting.
More excuses. First off I start late because I do a lot of salmon fishing in July, and offer no apology for that.
The wind blows now and then in Newfoundland, even in August.
For a while this summer there were just no fish to catch around my home waters.
We went on a holiday to the west coast on a staycation.
You can only fish on Saturday, Sunday or Monday.
Other stuff happens, like doctor appointments, birthdays and so on.
What I’m getting at here is that it’s not that easy to get 10 successful fishing days unless you stay home all summer ready to hit the seas every weekend.
I don’t think that’s necessary or fair. And now the fall fishery is a windy and blustery bust.
If I am allowed 100, 50, 25 or however many fish that conservation considerations warrant, why can’t I just catch them whenever I want? That just makes so much sense to me.
Give me tags and let me catch my fish on my own terms. It’s time for a change. What do you all think? This is a matter of safety on the water and our right or privilege to a well-managed sustainable harvest.
Anyway, I love to catch and cure my fish in fall. One year during the 1980s I had my boat in the water until mid-November. Those were the days.
There’s another reason why I like to put fishing off until fall. The fish are in the absolute best condition and the weather is just wonderful for the salting cod process.
The heat of summer is a curing dilemma. You have to heavy salt cod in a cool well ventilated area or it will turn pink and spoil. And because the sun is too hot for drying, your fish must stay in salt until the cooling breezes of September. This does not result in the best dried and cured cod product.
In autumn you can lightly salt or pickle your fish and leave it for just a short period of time.
Some say three or four days makes a lovely light-salted cod.
Because of the cooler temperatures, low humidity and breezy weather, more lightly salted fish will cure nicely in the sun without spoiling.
In some regions of Scandinavia, they cure cod late autumn without any salt at all. I’ve eaten it and it’s fantastic. They sell dried cod as a snack food in Icelandic gas stations.
Anyway, I love to catch and cure my fish in fall. One year during the 1980s I had my boat in the water until mid-November. Those were the days.
By the way, pickled fish is salted in tight tubs or containers and allowed to form a brine solution.
I’d love to hear how you prepare your salt fish.
Paul Smith, a native of Spaniard’s Bay, fishes and wanders the outdoors at every opportunity. He can be contacted at [email protected] or follow him on twitter at @flyfishtherock
