Alive and well in the bay

By Brian Hagenbuch

t seems like every season, while

Iin the midst of the relentless excitement and exhaustion of the Bristol Bay salmon run, we get that crushing news. Someone has gone overboard and disappeared. It is heartbreaking, and it follows us from our bunks to the deck, from the boatyard to the bar, and back home.

According to NIOSH, the bay averaged a little over a death a year between 2000 and 2018. The leading cause was falls overboard from gillnet boats, with capsized setnet skiffs the second worst cause. It is more difficult to find data on injuries, but anyone who fishes Bristol Bay knows how common they are. Near misses, meanwhile, are a daily occurrence, and many of these come up short of tragedy because of the safety precautions fishermen take.

Most of us abide by the Coast Guard safety regulations: equipping our boats with certified and up-to-date life rafts, EPIRBs, flares, survival suits (don’t forget to wax those zippers), and life rings (make sure there’s enough line here). But safety goes far beyond just fulfilling regulatory requirements.

There are refrains among safety-conscious veteran skippers, and one of them is to internalize safe practices on the water. This is done a number of ways, chief among them: organization. Michael Jackson, a Bristol Bay veteran of 34 years, stays organized with checklists detailing gear and protocols for both preseason and in-season.

Jackson keeps several nonregulated safety items, like an affordable 500-pound game hoist that can be used for man-overboard retrieval, and an emergency ditch bag, a dry bag for kayaking that includes a handheld VHF, an EPIRB, flares, and a first-aid kit.

Dan Barr, a 40-year skipper, is big on contingency. He has 10 bilge pumps powered by three different sources: engine, hydraulics or hand. Barr also keeps a backup VHF that automatically reverts to Channel 16 for distress alerting. For night fishing, Barr drops twin jacklights overboard, and preseason he refreshes reflective tape on his hull to increase visibility.

Delivering and anchoring heighten manoverboard danger. Both Barr and Jackson have PFD policies for anyone going to the bow of the boat. Barr requires PFDs on the bow at night, while Jackson requires them anytime crew is on the bow. Jackson stocks Mustang Survival horse-collar jackets that inflate on contact with the water, while Barr keeps inflatables and the Kent Rogue vest, which is not Coast Guard approved but can buy time in the water. Jerry Dzugan, a nationally recognized leader at the Alaska Marine Safety Education Association, has been on a push to get bay fishermen to use some type of flotation for years. An AMSEA study that provided Kent Rogue vests and Stormline flotation bibs found that, provided with a good, unobtrusive option, 91 percent of fishermen used flotation. Robust, waterproof flashlights — which proved to be lifesavers in the Scandies

Rose capsizing — should be at hand, and Dzugan recommends everyone wear an Ocean Signal MOB1, a cigar-sized AIS transponder for man-overboard that costs around $300.

One of the biggest threats to health and safety in the bay, of course, is exhaustion. Dzugan points to numerous studies illustrating how sleep deprivation impairs decision making, and he encourages a culture of “antimachismo” that allows for sufficient rest. It’s a tough thing to ask in a fishery that rewards around-the-clock work with cash and status, but each boat has the responsibility to create its own culture around this, finding rest and fishing schedules that keep skipper and crew out of the delirious danger zone.

Michael Jackson, a 34-year Bristol Bay veteran, requires crew to wear PFDs anytime they’re on the bow. He stocks Mustang Survival horse-collar jackets that inflate on contact with the water.

On deck, there are the commonsense rules, like stay out of the bight and avoid the whiplash path of a towline under heavy tension, but deck safety really comes down to simple, repeatable actions that are executed consistently with clear communication. Jackson runs deck orders with just three steps, which are verbally confirmed with his deckhands and are done exactly the same, day in and day out. Safety is habit, Jackson says, and one that is built out of repetition and awareness. To increase awareness, Barr has his crew focus on their near misses; they talk about what went wrong and discuss how they can do better next time.

Jim Purdum

Drills, of course, provide the foundation for all this, and all skippers and crew should take marine safety and first aid courses as frequently as possible. AMSEA holds safety classes around the country and will do them on request, whether you’re in Naknek or Montauk, or anywhere in between. They also typically run a series of classes in early June in Bristol Bay. Information can be found at amsea.org.

Good skippers solidify drills with their own exercises. Barr has his crew put survival suits on blindfolded, while Jackson has been known to make his crew don their suits on a trampoline at night. Barr also challenges his crew to tie a bowline behind their back.

It is all in an effort to hardwire safety so it becomes a reflex, not a thought process. And it is in effort that can save lives and bring our fishermen home safely.

Brian Hagenbuch is a Bristol Bay fisherman, a freelance writer based in Seattle, and the Products editor for National Fisherman.

This article was sponsored by Bristol Bay Regional Seafood Development Association @bbrsda.com. BBRSDA strives to build value & wealth for the Bristol Bay driftnet fleet, but those benefits can’t be reaped without preserving fleet health and safety.

By Bruce Buls

could see that longlining wasn’t going to be able

Ito provide for my family like it had been,” says Alaska fi sherman Rich Wheeler. “I had been thinking I wanted to go to Southeast because I wanted to have my family with me, like a lot of fi shermen do. I had the dream of having a boat with all my kids on it. So, fortunately, someone talked me into buying a boat and a permit on Prince William Sound.”

That move set the stage for Wheeler’s family to launch a new business and be able to spend summers fi shing together. But the groundwork was laid two generations before on the rocky coast of Norway.

When Lars Jangaard emigrated to America in 1938, Europe was on the verge of war. By 1940, his homeland of Norway would be invaded by German troops that would occupy the country for fi ve long years. So when an older Jangaard brother who had already emigrated sent word saying there was fi shing work to be had in America, Lars left for Seattle. The 23-year-old fi sherman from Volderoy, a small island on the seaward side of Norway, came over around the same time as one of his younger brothers, Otto.

During the war, the brothers prospered by fi shing for sharks, the livers of which were in demand for their vitamin A. It was believed that the vitamin improved night vision for pilots, so these commercial fi shermen fulfi lled their war eff ort at sea, with nets.

While they also fi shed for tuna, sardines and cod, Lars and Otto Jangaard ended their careers as veterans of halibut longline fi sheries in Alaska, Lars with the 83-foot Cape Flattery and Otto with the 70-foot Alrita, both house-forward, wood boats built on Puget Sound.

After settling in Seattle, Lars married a young Swedish

Catching salmon on Alaska’s Copper River is an unpredictable business, so Cordova-based 60 North added halibut and blackcod to its processing line.

descendent, Linnea, with whom he had three sons and one daughter. The daughter, Mary, married Art Hodgins, who was neither Scandinavian nor a fisherman, although he quickly became one of the latter after getting a chance on his father-in-law’s boat. After many years on the back deck and with natural aspirations for the wheelhouse, Art considered the possibility of taking over the Cape Flattery when Lars retired. But for that he was corked by Mary’s younger brother, Steve. However, Uncle Otto was also about to retire — and had no sons. So Art moved over to the Alrita, where he worked on deck for a season before moving up to the wheelhouse when Otto retired. Art immediately added blackcod gear and started targeting that increasingly valuable fish.

Art and the Alrita did well, especially after inheriting the Alrita’s rich catch history when quota shares were handed out for halibut and blackcod in the ’90s. He fished both until 2000, when he devised an unusual retirement plan: He made a deal with his crew to sell them most of his large quota share. If they could come up with the money for the quota, he would give them the boat. But the deal had to include the boat’s new inbreaker: Rich Wheeler, who had recently married Art’s middle daughter, Sena.

After getting his boots wet from fishing for two seasons in Bristol Bay, Rich had eagerly taken a spot on the Alrita when offered by Art in the late ’90s. But he hadn’t been onboard long when he and the rest of the Alrita crew bought Art out. Rich and Sena Wheeler were just married, she was in graduate school, and they would have to borrow a huge amount of money. All shares cost the same.

“It was an enormous leap of faith,” says Sena, who had just enrolled in a master’s degree program at Oregon State University, where Rich had gone to undergraduate school on a wrestling scholarship. After getting a bachelor’s degree in Food Science from Central Washington University, she and Rich moved to Oregon, where she spent a year in Corvallis and a year in Astoria testing albacore and writing scientific evaluations at the OSU seafood lab.

With a master’s degree in food and fermentation science in her portfolio, Sena went to work doing product development and quality control for Continental Mills back in the Seattle area. Rich continued to fish, and they dreamed of ways they could go into business together. Meanwhile, Rich scratched another itch in 2010 when the former carpenter hand-built a house in the mountains of central Washington. Officially, home became Entiat, Wash.

After about 12 years on the Alrita, Rich decided to strike out on his own and fish his quota on other boats while looking farther ahead.

That was when Rich bought a boat and permit on Prince William Sound to fulfill his dream of fishing with his family.

The boat was a 1989-built, 32' x 12.5' aluminum bowpicker in British Columbia. Rich shipped it to Cordova and renamed it Miss CamiLou, based on the middle names of his two daughters. He fished the twin-engine, prop-driven boat for several years before repowering with twin Volvos V-6s, 330-hp per side.

But the boat was “huge” inside with bunk space for a family of five. Rich’s dream of fishing with his family was now real, and the dream of starting a business with Sena wasn’t far behind.

For the first few seasons in Cordova, Rich fished as an independent, selling his fish to different processors in town. But in 2015, he and Sena started having his

Sena and Rich Wheeler on the Miss CamiLou at the dock in Cordova, Alaska. Fishing family: Wheeler kids — Vansee, 12, Hugh, 15, and Eedee, 9 — take a bow.

“You spend all this time and money getting ready for a wild fish that may not even show up. It’s crazy, the livelihoods and everything else that’s at stake, but somehow it always works out.

—Rich Wheeler,

ALASKA FISHERMAN AND 60 NORTH CEO

Sena Sea’s Copper River sockeye after processing and packaging at 60 North. Cordova fi sherman John Wiese partnered with the Wheelers to launch 60 North.

catch custom processed in Cordova by a small processor called Prime Select. The processing included parchment-wrapping 6-ounce portions, vacuum packing and blast freezing. The frozen salmon portions were sold under the label of Sena Sea Seafoods. Sena personally sold a lot of the sh at farmers’ markets in the Seattle area for several years while also selling it

online and promoting it on social media. Last year, she discontinued the in-person markets and devoted her attention to direct-to-door sales during the pandemic. The processing side of Sena Sea Seafoods, however, changed with the sale of Prime Select’s facility to a company from Tacoma called Northern Fish Products, which bought it as a means of better accessing Copper River salmon. But after a few seasons, Northern Fish determined that it wasn’t interested in continuing small-scale custom and wholesale processing. In August of 2017, Ross Swanes, president of Northern Fish, called Rich to let him know that the plant would be put up for sale. Was he interested in buying? The answer was yes, not immediately, but de nitely yes after signing on a local partner, John Wiese. “I needed somebody local and somebody who knows how to get things done,” says Rich. “I’m an out-of-state guy — been shing for a number of years — WRANGELL Alaska but I didn’t have the connections he has locally.” John is a thirdgeneration Cordovan who knows both the town and how to sh the notorious Copper River Flats. For three seasons, he experimented with processing his sh onboard and selling them directly. It was

PORT & HARBORS not his cup of tea. “I was having a hard time being a good sherman and a good salesman and running that side of the business by myself,” he says. Great Rates, Concrete Surface Boatyard So joining up 330 Ton Boat Lift Capacity with Rich and Sena,

Winter Boat Dry or Wet Storage - Transient Moorage who would do a lot of the work he didn’t harbor@wrangell.com • 907-874-3736 want to do, made

sense. Together they bought the small processing plant on Cordova’s waterfront and renamed it 60 North. Rich is CEO and John is COO.

Sena Sea is now owned by 60 North.

Prime Select and Northern Fish had only been processing salmon before 60 North took over. Now the plant also handles blackcod and halibut, which Sena Sea sells in 6-ounce portions. A lot of this white sh comes from Rich’s quota shares, which now he shes on boats out of Cordova.

Expanding the Sena Sea product line is especially important when Copper River salmon returns are down, like last year and possibly 2021, as well.

“We probably sold more white sh than salmon last year,” says Sena. Where once Sena Sea was limited to salmon portions, the company now sells not only blackcod and halibut, but also value-added products like smoked spreads, smoked salmon in jars in cedar boxes handmade by Rich. There’s also miso-marinated blackcod in 6-ounce portions. There’s occasionally Paci c cod and rock sh.

And there’s chop. Sold in 1-pound bags, chop is sh meat that might otherwise go to waste, like the meat stuck to a salmon’s backbone after lleting.

“We scrape the backbone of every sh,” says Sena. “When it’s Copper River, you know it’s the best sh, so we scrape

the backbone with a spoon and sell it as a one-pound pouch of chop meat.” The chop can be used in soups, tacos, patties or salads. Sena Sea also o ers 4-ounce patties made from their salmon chop with vegetables and seasonings. Like virtually all Sena Sea products, the patties are often sold as part of a bundle that might include a mix of species and portions. Halibut, lingcod and rock sh chop is produced during the portioning process and is also sold in 1-pound bags.

Every Monday is ship day for Sena Sea. The frozen sh comes south in 50-pound boxes, from which Sena and her crew in Wenatchee pull all the items for each order. Most boxes are cubes because that’s more e cient for holding the cold. Inside, water-soluble foam insulates the frozen sh and slows the sublimation of the dry ice. The sh is packed as tightly as possible to minimize air. This hand packing has become something of an art.

“Everybody likes being the closer,”

Sharing recipes is key to selling fi sh.

says Sena.

The cost of shipping is a large factor in pricing.

Sena Sea o ers subscriptions with one-, two- or three-month intervals. “I really like to keep it easy to subscribe and for people to eat more sh. At the end of the day, I want you to have sh in your freezer because I know you’ll eat more of it.”

When they bought out Northern Fish, the property included a small bunkhouse with a kitchen.

“When we rst bought the plant, we thought, yeah, we like the plant, but we don’t really need the bunkhouse,” says Sena. “It seemed unnecessary and more of an expense, but we wouldn’t have been able to run last year without the bunkhouse.” The bunkhouse is where Rich and their son, Hugh, quarantined after arriving from Washington in April 2020. Their processing crew also quarantined in the bunkhouse

As offshore wind is set to take off as the next clean energy resource in the United States, it is crucial to continue to understand potential impacts, plan carefully, and engage with other ocean users throughout the planning and project development process. After hearing from fishermen, offshore wind developers removed over 30 percent of the potential energy production in 2019 in the Massachusetts/Rhode Island Wind Energy Area to create 200 transit lanes for fishermen.

Additional information on how to provide input in the offshore wind leasing process can be found in the Offshore Wind Public Participation Guide, BOEM’s Stakeholder Engagement and Partnerships website, and the New England Fisheries Management Council and the MidAtlantic Fisheries Management Council’s jointly managed offshore wind webpage.

Orsted/Block Island Wind Farm, Rhode Island

Fishermen and other ocean users are encouraged to provide feedback during the offshore wind leasing process. Learn how to weigh in by visiting:

https://cleanpower.org/resources/offshore-wind-public-participation-guide/ https://www.boem.gov/renewable-energy/stakeholder-engagement https://www.mafmc.org/northeast-offshore-wind

FOR MORE INFORMATION: https://cleanpower.org

throughout the season.

Hugh, their oldest, then 14, did his remote learning from Cordova last spring and fi shed full-time with his dad for the fi rst time all season. This year he’ll go up after school in June. Sena and their two daughters, Vansee, 12, and Eedee, 9, will go up at the end of June and stay until early August, as they usually do. Most of the time they will stay in a small room in the bunkhouse, and some of the time they’ll be out on the boat with Rich and Hugh.

Sena will have her laptop and will stay connected with Sena Sea business back in Washington. She’ll take pictures on the boat and back in Cordova for use on Instagram, Facebook and their website. She also writes occasional blogs and frequently corresponds with customers. Educating the public about Alaska’s fi sheries and about seafood sustainability is an important part of Sena Sea’s mission.

Sena Sea and 60 North are also strong supporters of the Copper River Watershed Project, which “promotes a salmon-rich, intact watershed and culturally diverse communities by forming partnerships for watershed-scale planning and projects.”

Sena Sea and 60 North intend to be an asset to the community. They will buy fi sh from anyone, provided it’s properly chilled and bled, and they will custom cut for other direct marketers, too, and sport fi shermen. In the not-too-distant future, they hope to add a smoker to their operation. Their fi sh is now smoked by Briny Sea in Olympia, Wash. 60 North also stepped up to the plate last year by contracting with the state to catch and process a test fi shery for Prince William Sound king crab, which hadn’t been fi shed in more than 20 years. Their chartered crab boat caught a little over 10,000 pounds, much of which was sold at the dock to locals and neighboring natives. For processing, 60 North added a boiler, freezer pans and other necessary equipment. Sena Sea still has some clusters in cold storage and for sale on their website (starting at $149 for a small cluster of three legs and a claw).

This isn’t food for people on tight budgets. It’s all unique, pristine product,

The Sena Sea Golden King Crab cluster is the result of a Prince William Sound test fi shery.

and it commands premium prices. Their customers, from Seattle to New York, love it and keep coming back for more. Sales have doubled every year.

Rich still intends to fi sh his halibut and blackcod quota, but it’s harder for him to get away from Cordova or off the Miss CamiLou. And now, his family can fi sh with him or even on other boats.

Last year, Hugh worked a couple openings on another gillnetter, and no one will be surprised if he ends up running his own boat someday. Of the two girls, Rich sees Eedee as an up-andcoming deckhand. Vansee, who is named after a halibut schooner, is more inclined toward baking than fi shing. Whatever they do, it will probably be family and fi shing focused, like their parents, grandparents and great grandparents before them. And always with an eye on what’s next.

Bruce Buls is a freelance writer based in Whidbey Island, Wash., and is Sena Wheeler’s godfather.