In Search of a Siberian Klondike

by Washington Baker Vanderlip; Homer B. Hulbert

CHAPTER IV

SALMON-FISHING IN THE FAR NORTH

Tide that rises twenty-five feet—Wholesale suicide of salmon—Fish-eyes as a delicacy for sea-gulls—How the natives store fish for the sledge-dogs—The three varieties of salmon—An Arcadian land for the birds.

Leaving the mouth of the Tigil River, we steamed northward into the upper arm of the Okhotsk Sea. The shore line showed rolling hill and mountain country without much timber. Three days of steady steaming brought us to the extreme limits of the Okhotsk Sea, at the mouth of the Ghijiga River. Owing to the shallowness of the water, we were obliged to anchor eighteen miles off shore. We had on board a small steam-launch, for use in towing the lighters to the shore, each lighter carrying about twenty-five tons. The launch and lighters were soon put over the side and their cargoes loaded into them. At ten o'clock at night we set off toward the shore. It was necessary to start at that hour in order to get over the bar at flood-tide. We entered the mouth of the river at three in the morning. The sun was already up. The width of the estuary was considerable, but it was enormously increased by the tide, which rises twenty-five feet and floods the fields and plains on either side. The air was literally full of sea-gulls, flying very high. Some of them were going inland, and some out to sea. The odor of decaying fish was almost overpowering, and was plainly perceptible five miles out. This was caused by the enormous number of dead salmon that lay on the bar, having been swept down the river.

About the tenth of June the salmon come in from the sea and work their way up the river until the lack of water bars their further progress. Salmon do not run up these rivers until they have attained their sixth year of growth. From the moment they enter the fresh water of the river, they get no food whatever. For this reason they must be caught near the river's mouth to be in good condition. The female, having gone far up the river, finds a suitable place, and deposits her eggs; after which the male fish hunts them out and fertilizes them. As soon as this has been accomplished there begins a mad rush for death. However many millions of salmon may run up the river, not one ever reaches the sea again alive. They race straight up the river, as if bent on finding its source. When the river narrows down to two hundred feet in width, and is about a foot deep, the fish are so crowded together that the water fairly boils with them. And still they struggle up and ever up. One can walk into the water and kill any number of them with a club. After the fish have gone up the river in this fashion for fifty or sixty miles, they are so poor that they are worthless as food, for they have been working all this time on an empty stomach. As they fight their way up, they seem to grow wilder and wilder. Whole schools of them, each numbering anywhere from a hundred to a thousand, will make a mad rush for the shore and strand themselves. This is what the gulls have been waiting for. They swoop down in immense flocks and feast upon the eyes of the floundering fish. They will not deign to touch any other part. Bears also come down the river bank and gorge themselves. I have seen as many as seven in a single day, huge black and brown fellows, feasting on the fish. They eat only certain parts of the head, and will not touch the body. They wade into the water and strike the fish with their paws and then draw them out upon the bank. Wolves, foxes, and sledge-dogs also feast upon the fish, and for the only time during the year get all they want.

A River of Dead Salmon—August.

As the fish get further and further away from the sea, their flesh grows loose and flabby, the skin sometimes turning black and sometimes a bright red. They dash themselves against stones, and rub against the sharp rocks, seemingly with the desire to rub the flesh off their bones. The eggs of the salmon remain in the river during the winter, and it is not until the following spring that the young fish are swept down to the sea by the spring floods.

Along the banks of the river live the half-breed Russians and the natives in their miserable shanties and skin huts. They fish with long nets made of American twine. Fastening one end of the net to a stake on one side of the river, they carry the other end to the opposite side. In an hour or more, the farther end is brought back with a wide sweep down stream, which, of course, is the direction from which the fish are coming. The two ends are brought together, and a team of a dozen sledge-dogs hauls the net to the bank. The children kill the fish with clubs. Then they are carried to the women, who squat upon the sand, and, with three deft sweeps of a sharp knife, disembowel them, and cut off the thick pieces of flesh on each side of the backbone. These pieces are dried in the sun and form the chief article of food among this people. It is called by them yukulle. The backbone, the head, and the tail, which remain after the meat is cut off, are then dried, and they form the staple food for the sledge-dogs.