B5
THE ASTORIAN • SATuRdAy, ApRIl 16, 2022
Chinook salmon: Chinook people preserved
the fish and habitat for thousands of years
Continued from page B1
Like birds of prey on
that spring day, hundreds of
boats crowded the waters,
and so did a plethora of
predators, sea lions and bald
eagles, each to be avoided
by the wary anglers and the
fish. We anchored from one
of the river’s sand islands
in 20 foot water. Our long
wait began. The Chinook
salmon is a wary critter and
their numbers, while reviv-
ing somewhat in the last few
years, don’t begin to com-
pare to what they once were.
The salmon returned reli-
giously up the river until the
arrival of white settlers in
the 19th century.
Astoria was founded on
furs, salmon and massive
virgin timber. Much has
been whittled away, no sur-
prise to a pair of wide eyes.
Descendants of all that com-
merce, we waited, hoping
for a chance to catch even a
single spring run salmon, a
springer, the rarest and most
delicious of all salmonoids,
competing with the best
of all finned creatures. We
were hardly alone as every
size and shape of watercraft
bounced on the murky, tur-
gid waters.
Everyone with common
sense bows to the reputa-
tion of this powerful river.
In the region, stories rever-
berate about the unfortu-
nate and the unwise who
underestimated its power.
The Columbia rolls on, nei-
ther caring nor aware of the
grazing animals that inun-
date both sides of the big
water, including human
beings. The Columbia is a
mighty river and defers only
to the twice daily cycles of
the Earth, moon and sun.
The water is neither cautious
nor incautious. It is simply
a great liquid body, moving
at about 5 knots and shaping
all that lies before its mov-
able force.
The first strike happened
nearly four hours later and
the fishermen jumped to their
feet. The salmon favor the
current but struggle against
the limber fishing pole and
the skill of the angler. Ten
minutes later, the fish was
in the net, just ahead of the
gaping mouth of an 800
pound sea lion. Staring into
the net, one quickly detected
that the fish was with an adi-
pose fin, a wild salmon, and
we had to let it go. Visions
of a fillet of the tasty flesh
evaporated in the cold wind.
Perhaps the stellar sea lion
was thinking the same thing.
Dark gray clouds moved in
and nightfall hovered like
the disappointment of turn-
ing away a fine dinner.
We were on the water
the next morning by 5 a.m.
Again, our wait was sev-
eral hours, but luck favored
us then. The salmon snapped
at our lures and soon we had
two aboard, hatchery salmon
without fin, a treasure trove
considering the many trips
onto the big river that sports-
men had already made, wait-
ing for the annual arrival of
these majestic fish and the
chance to snare one.
The day ended with one
more catch, a beauty by any
definition. This salmon was
nearly 20 pounds, sleek and
shining with sparkling col-
ors, dozens of vibrant tints
ablaze and shimmering like
oil on water. The fish is meant
for ocean travel, swimming
thousands of miles each year
until their noses lead them
from the Pacific to their final
destination.
I arrived home a conquer-
ing hero, a 15 pound salmon
waiting for the fillet knife
and a further encounter with
pan or oven. A fish like this
is meant to be savored in its
most natural state, the flesh
is too perfect to smoke. With
extra trimmed pieces of the
succulent orange flesh, I
designed a Thai soup for
our first meal and imagined
more to come. With a catch
this fresh, the preparation
would be simple, no need
for a fine sauce. Accompani-
ments were more important,
maybe fried rice with oyster
mushrooms or a pasta with
fresh asparagus. Or sweet
onion and szechuan egg-
plant. Perhaps a big salad.
And don’t forget to
slip in thanks to the gods
of the Columbia River, to
the swimmers, Oncorhyn-
chus tshawytscha, the great
pacific salmon. And an
acknowledgement to the
Chinook people, who pre-
served the fish and habitat
for thousands of years.
David Campiche
Jeff Campiche holds a 20
pound spring Chinook salmon.
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