Fishing in British Columbia / With a Chapter on Tuna Fishing at Santa Catalina

by Thomas Wilson Lambert

The progress of all these fish is made by steady travelling in the slacker water at the sides of the river. I have often watched them slowly making their way upwards in the clear water of the Thompson, one noticeable fact being that they do not rise much to the surface or ever leap into the air, like our own fish. In the lakes, and occasionally in pools of the Thompson, I have seen them roll over in the water, but never leap into the air. It seems not unreasonable to suppose that one reason for the leaping of the Atlantic salmon is because he is practising for the time when he will have to jump a difficult waterfall in the river he ascends. But in the inland lakes and rivers the Pacific salmon never leap, and, in fact, are seen but little on the surface. On the other hand the trout appear to leap quite as much as the European species. On Fish Lake the rainbows are leaping continually.

The Pacific salmon has no skill in jumping, he merely swims on continuously; indeed, he appears perfectly incapable of negotiating the smallest waterfall. I have seen thousands of Pacific salmon stopped hopelessly by a fall which would not hinder a small European sea-trout. It may be that the tremendous nature of the journey already completed has robbed him of the energy necessary for leaping, but experience would lead me to believe that the Pacific salmon trusts to immense powers of endurance, which enable him to travel thousands of miles against a frightful current rather than to a short journey and one or two big jumps.

This fact is certainly worthy of further investigation and note, in view of the introduction into British Columbia of the Atlantic salmon. There must be numbers of rivers barred to the Pacific fish which would be quite easy of access to the Atlantic. I doubt much if the quinnat could tackle an ordinary artificial salmon ladder, though there are undoubtedly numbers of streams in British Columbia which could be rendered navigable to Salmo salar by such means. A small hatchery established on such a river might at once establish the European fish in these waters.

On the other hand it is very doubtful if the present attempt to acclimatise Salmo salar by the introduction of small fry into the Fraser can avail much. Few could hope to survive and compete with the countless myriads of the sockeyes, while it is doubtful if the Atlantic fish could ever make its way for hundreds of miles against the Fraser current. It is not fitted for a slow journey of weeks and even months, but rather for one of some few hours with a strong leap at the end which lands it at once in the destined pool or lake.

There are two other points which will strike the fishermen in British Columbia waters. One is the absence of kelts at any time of the year. The other is the fact that, though the waters are often alive with young salmon, none are ever caught on the fly. The first point is explained by the fact that these fish die after spawning. There is no doubt that this is well established, though there is something to be accounted for—namely, the large specimens of each species, which must undoubtedly either be survivors of a former run or else fish which have stayed in salt water to a more advanced age. To take the example of a spring salmon of 80lb.; this fish would, in Europe, be reckoned as at least ten years old and probably a great deal more. Are we to conclude that such a fish has never been into fresh water before, or is it not more probable that he has only been in the habit of frequenting some lake at a short distance from the sea, and returning thence in time to escape death from exhaustion? The large specimens of the other species might also be accounted for in this manner.

The second point is merely a fact, and does not require any explanation, except that it may have some bearing on the matter of the adult fish not taking the fly. I would not go so far as to say that these young fish have never been known to take a fly, but I never remember catching one myself, and they certainly do not take it as the salmon parr do in our waters. It is of course possible that many may be taken and supposed to be trout. But if such were the case, it would surely be more commonly known and noticed. Very little appears to be known of the habits of the young fish or the time they spend in fresh water before they go down to the sea.

It has been a much debated question as to whether the British Columbia salmon takes the fly, and it may be stated once for all that it does do so, but only in tidal waters. In the up-country lakes and rivers it takes nothing, and those who may have seen its migrations will easily understand the reason. The fish have no time to feed or rest; they may be seen ceaselessly though slowly pressing on in the shallow water at the sides of the Fraser or Thompson, as if pressed on by the weight of those behind, impelled by some all-powerful desire to get to their journey's end, to spawn and die. None return, and the lakes and pools of the rivers are filled with corpses, on which bears, eagles, and all creatures which can eat fish are filled to the full.

There is no time to look at bait of any kind, for it is a terrible journey through the rapid waters of the Fraser, and many fish show the marks of bruises and cuts, while few are in an eatable condition by the time they reach Kamloops Lake.

This journey would seem to take them three or four weeks from the time they appear at the Fraser mouth, about 200 miles in distance. Anyone who has ever seen Hell's Gate, in the terrible canyon of the Fraser, and these millions of struggling fish slowly pushing their way upwards without a moment's rest, impelled by the vis a tergo of the swarms behind, and each one anxious only to move forward, can easily understand how impossible it would be in such a struggle for mere existence that a fish should pause to take bait. Even in our own rivers running salmon practically never take. It is only when they have reached some pool or resting-place that they will look at a lure. But when these masses of fish emerge into the large lakes, the first comers must still be remorselessly driven on by the mass of those behind until the farthest limits and some impassable barrier is reached. I have never seen the spawning-beds myself. Jordan says they spawn in 1ft. to 3ft. of water in rivers like salar, but one can readily imagine the desperate struggle for existence that must go on as the swarms reach the grounds and fight for positions; while no doubt on their outskirts are small armies of trout and other fish eager to devour the eggs as soon as they are laid. As the salmon seem to pass right up to the headquarters (cf. Jordan) they would get beyond the big trout. Probably it is here that their numbers protect them, the trout being unable to penetrate their close ranks until the eggs are laid and concealed in the gravel and death begins to be busy among the salmon. Possibly here, too, may be some protection, for doubtless the other fish prey on the dead carcases, which would be a more obvious food supply than the hidden eggs. This description of spawning-beds is mere imagination, as I have never met anyone who had seen them; but it is probably much exceeded by the reality.

A short description of what I have seen will help to realise what must take place on the spawning-beds. It must be noted that the salmon runs are in cycles. Every fourth year is a big run of sockeye, and when there is a small run of these fish there may be a big run of humpbacks or dog salmon. One year in the early nineties the Thompson presented a strange sight to travellers in the Canadian Pacific trains, though as the trains pass this part in the very early morning probably few saw it. The line here closely follows the river, and in the canyon rises to several hundred feet above it, so that a splendid view of the river is obtained. At this time, as seen from above, the deep blue water of the stream was bordered on each side by a vivid red ribbon, which when seen closer proved to be the array of sockeyes struggling up the side eddies in countless myriads. How long this lasted I cannot say, but I saw it several times on my professional journeys on the railway. It was a very wonderful sight. Every fish was about the same size, about 7lb. or 8lb., and all were deep red in colour. The time of year was about September.