Sonar saves the day
The one-week autumn recreational cod fishery is over. The fish weren’t nearly as abundant as they were throughout the three-week summer fishery, but I did manage to snag a few cod for salting and curing in the October sun.
The one-week autumn recreational cod fishery is over. The fish weren’t nearly as abundant as they were throughout the threeweek summer fishery, but I did manage to snag a few cod for salting and curing in the October sun.
I prefer bigger fish for splitting and salting, but the fish this fall were, on average, quite a bit smaller than the ones we were catching when the fishery closed in early August. Where have all the lunkers gone? So goes my September lament.
Goldie and I dearly love thick salted cod with butter melted over it. There is no better breakfast, particularly with toast, strong black tea and tart partridgeberry jam.
Last fall there were plenty of big fish. On opening day Goldie and I, along with our friend Derek Young, departed the wharf by our house just a tad after daylight. I decided to try close-to-shore grounds on the southern side of Spaniard’s Bay Harbour, an area traditionally referred to as The Sisters, because of two high and skinny similar rocks that lie close to the rocky shoreline.
I’ve caught most of my fish off The Sisters in anywhere from 60 to 80 feet of water. I use sonar to position my boat at the right depth, as well as to locate fish. Actually, the sounding of fish is usually secondary. I use sonar in combination with landmarks to find prime fishing spots, like underwater hills, drop-offs and the like.
Often, depending on environmental and tidal conditions, fish will feed at a specific depth. So, I switched on my combination navigation, depth-sounding unit as soon as I shut off my engine. No light, no sound, nothing; obviously something was drastically wrong. I fiddled with the wires a bit and guessed the cause to be saltwater corrosion. There was no choice but to fish blind, nothing new for a salty 50-something, but nowadays we have become dependent on technology.
I free-spooled my silvery lure towards the bottom but it stopped short. I pulled back and had a fine fat cod on my line. Goldie and Derek followed suit and had their lines halted by hungry fish before their metal offerings sounded bottom. In a matter of minutes we had our quota of five fish each onboard.
That was pretty much the way the fishery went in the autumn of 2014 — load and go — with not much time spent floating on the ocean.
The fall 2015 fishery was entirely another quintal of fish, if you can excuse the obvious pun. We had to work for our cod, as they were not at all easy to locate. On the bonus side, I had more time to drink tea and soak in the ambiance of ocean, rock and sky.
On the first day this season I reluctantly returned home with no fish. I was in a bit of a hurry to do something else and figured I’d wait for reports from other fishers to get a better idea of where to fish. However, everybody had the same story to tell. The fish were scarce.
Goldie and I were in a bit of a pickle since I’d not salted any cod during the summer fishery. I’ve always preferred to salt and cure my winter fish in cooler autumn weather. Summer heat can ruin fish if you’re not careful. It was different in the old days because stages were constructed on the ocean’s edge where typically cool breezes blew. And the fish were salted on the floor in an open area with lots of air circulation. Salting in a plastic fish pan in a hot backyard shed is risky business. I’m cutting logs this winter to build a stage.
The pressure was on for the last two days of the fishery. I needed 20 decent fish to salt. We managed 10 decent-sized ones on Saturday. Sunday morning was lovely, cool and clear, with little wind. I searched around for an hour but found nothing but four medium-sized cod. Morale was low.
On my trusty sonar, I noticed a steep dip on the bottom, from 200 to 150 feet, smack dab in the middle of Spaniard’s Bay Harbour. Although I’d never fished there before, it was worth a try. Goldie and I cranked up lunker after lunker until we had our quota. We were very lucky and very happy, and you gotta love technology.
Now it’s time to pick some partridgeberries.