The first news of the approach of the sockeye is generally brought to Vancouver or some other coast city by some sailing ship or steamer which has encountered them in the straits of San Juan or the Gulf of Georgia. Often strange stories are told of moving through a vast salmon army, perhaps seven miles broad and of unknown length, all heading straight for the Fraser's mouth, from their unknown feeding-grounds in the North Pacific. Wild as some of these tales seem, yet they are more or less true. For these immense shoals come through the San Juan Straits and head northwards up the British Columbian coast towards Alaska, while only a mere detachment enters the Fraser, a detachment of a few millions. And also if it be true that none return, they can have no leaders to show the way, but must retrace the route they took as smolts on their way from the river to the ocean, impelled by the sexual instinct to propagate the species. They appear to hang about the mouth of the Fraser for a short time, then advance upwards as far as it is possible to go, hundreds of miles into the interior, and up every stream which will permit of their progress, where they eventually spawn and die.
The silver salmon and blue-backs run in separate shoals, and their respective names show the difference between them. Very handsome fish are they in spring, of a bright silver hue resembling a fresh run grilse, and about seven or eight pounds in weight. But they quickly become red, and in the upper waters of the rivers often present a far from healthy appearance, showing visible traces of their struggles with the rocks and whirlpools encountered in their ascent. This well-known red appearance is not, however, altogether due to the effects of the fresh water, for straggling late bands are described as entering through the Straits of San Juan in the autumn which are almost as red as their earlier fellows at that time in the upper waters of the Fraser.
On the heels of the sockeye come the humpback and the dog salmon, about the same in size, and fine silvery fish before the breeding season sets in. But it is late in the autumn when they arrive, and their flesh is white and does not meet the demands of the market. The so-called hump is only present in the breeding season.
An attempt was made to can and sell them as white salmon, but without success; though recently a market has been found in Japan, whither they are sent in the dried form. Japan, by the way, possesses a sixth species of Oncorhynchus, the masu, a fish resembling the humpback, but this is not known to British Columbian waters.
Although an immense toll is taken by the canneries, yet the supply of fish still continues, assisted by the hatcheries which have been supplied by the Government of Canada, by whose aid it is hoped that the effects of over-fishing will be counteracted. For this hope there is considerable ground, as the fishing on the Columbia River has been restored by this means to something of its former condition.
CHAPTER VIII.
The Diplomat and the Salmon—The Struggle for Existence—Salmon and Steel-head Liable to be Confused—Sport in Tidal Waters—The Campbell River—The Pioneers—A River of Fifty-Pounders—Smaller Salmon on the Fly—Method of Fishing—Tackle—Typical Good Bags—The Steel-head—Cost of Fishing—Dangers of Over-Fishing for Canneries—A Good Trolling Time.
Though much more might be written about the canning industry and the migration of the salmon, it is not material to the purpose of this book, and has only been touched on to show how it bears on the question of salmon fishing by rod and line; for it is often stated that the salmon does not take the fly in British Columbia, as if it were a personal matter and some perverse characteristic of the fish. There is another story very popular in the west, relating what happened at the time when the great fur companies held the country and were disputing and even fighting for its possession. The Imperial Government sent out some illustrious diplomat to report on the situation, and he described the country as of no value and so hopeless that "even the salmon would not take the fly." It is a tradition in British Columbia that on this ground the now flourishing States of Idaho, Montana, Washington, and Oregon were handed over to the Americans. The description given of the conditions under which the salmon migrate is intended to show reasons why the fish are unable to oblige the angler in this matter of taking the fly. These conditions are obvious. The desperate struggle for existence in an immense shoal of fish pressing upwards against the tremendous current of a river abounding in strong rapids and whirlpools; the length of the journey, several hundred miles in extent; the absence of any chance of resting owing to the pressure of the multitudes behind; and, finally, the state of exhaustion brought on by all these forces combined—these things must, and indeed do, reduce the fish to such a condition that its final energies are devoted to and exhausted by the propagation of its species. Even if enough vitality were left to make it take a bait, no sport would be obtained by the angler, and his sorry capture would be generally unfit for food.