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About Smoke signals. (Grand Ronde, Or.) 19??-current | View Entire Issue (Nov. 15, 2003)
8 NOVEMBER 15, 2003 Smoke Signals J L 0 Affable friends leave fish to fight another day. Story and Photos by Ron Karten At five-thirty in the morning, the conversa tion started with the fisherman's lingo. "I got the lingo," said Tribal member Lonnie Leno, who was there with his son, Brett, and his nephew, Shonn, both also Tribal members. "It's the equipment I don't have." If I remember though I can't vouch for any thing that happens at this hour of any morning Lonnie was discussing a net that he didn't have, which reminded Brett of the time his dad went over the side of the boat trying to bring in a fish without a net. Not that it would make any difference for the day ahead, a chilly, overcast, remorselessly piti less day. The river was angry on that Thurs day, my friends. Still, everybody was yet hopeful at some 6:15 a.m. when the crew stopped at Nestucca Valley Sporting Goods in Hebo. Without yet a scintilla of light gracing this part of the world, Nestucca Valley Sporting Goods in Hebo was already wide open and doing the brisk business that goes along with signs like: "I fish therefore I smell." We bought sodas and pretzels the break fast of champions and for bait, containers of what in a nice Japanese restaurant at a civil hour, would have sold as caviar at ten times the price. It was there that Lonnie Leno borrowed a net. V J ft : v A - 1 j'.ir,,'. " I i V- No Canoes Tribal member Tim Holmes (center) helps unload the Leno boat after a hard day on the Nehalem River. At left is his Uncle, Tribal Elder Mel Holmes, and at right, Tribal member Lonnie Leno steps off the boat. said Baker. The Leno boat used WD-40 oil to mask the human smell. Not that the salmon were in the mood to be fooled on this day. Brett and Lonnie kept in touch by cell phone. Lonnie Leno tried the old 'The bilge pump isn't working on his own crew, ("It went downhill from there," Mel Holmes later reported,) and then Lonnie went for the old 'Hey, is your plug miss ing? on the Tribal crew. Later, Mel Holmes suggested, "You just keep telling yourself, 'I'm having fun. I'm enjoying every minute of this.'" About 11 a.m., the sun made its first attempt In The Drivers Seat Tribal members Shonn Leno (left) and Brett Leno crew on the Tribal jonboat during a recent fishing outing for Tribal Elders. Shonn guided the boat while Brett set the hooks, lines and sinkers. The crew, lured by a Tribal Fish & Wildlife Committee-sponsored fishing excursion, in cluded the Lenos, Tribal members Mel and Tim Holmes, Tribal member Gary LaChance, Natu ral Resources Biologist Jeff Baker and myself, a reporter who nearly cracked under the strain of a day off fishing. The committee purchased this boat last win ter with the idea of taking Tribal Elders and youth fishing, and also for participating in Tribal cultural harvests of lamprey, crab and salmon. It has already been used many times, said Baker. An hour or so later, three road-bound vehicles and two boats arrived at the Nehalem River landing where for about a half hour, it was mostly the Brett and Shonn Leno Show, as they snapped and zipped together a plastic roof for the Tribe's 18-foot jonboat and backed it into the water. Lonnie, Mel Holmes and Jeff Baker did the same for Lonnie Leno's 18-foot Jetcraft. It was well past seven, but not many fingers on this reporter's hands were yet defrosted. Mel Holmes, retired from the state Transpor tation Department and busy these days with a succession of Tribal committees, said that the secret to staying comfort able on freezing fishing mornings was a good wind breaker. And al most everybody knew enough to wear gloves. Tim Holmes, a relative newcomer to the sport, joined Brett Leno, an avid fisherman if ever there was one, as the odds on favor ites to catch some thing. Both brought with them the reputation of catching fish when nobody else was catching anything. "You land a big one just once," said Tim, "and you're hooked." He and his son had each landed 30-plus pound Chinooks recently. In fact, he went on, "Fishing is the only thing I'll get up for this early anymore." The crew split into two crews of four, and when the Tribal jonboat got going, Brett Leno set the fishing lines, one by one, each with 'Quickfish' hooks set out about "15 poles" in the wa ter. Shonn Leno stood at the wheel, regulating the speed and direction. His face, set against the cold and the wind, took on the determination of Humphrey Bogart in To Have and Have Not (or was it Captain Bly on the Bounty?) Brett took a minute from setting the hooks to set his cousin up with a chair. Gary LaChance has been fishing his whole life, though he does not really care for the taste of fish. He goes though, be cause he often fished with his father. "I'd go a little slower," he said to Shonn Leno. Now seated, Shonn tried to jiggle the throttle down closer to the neutral po sition. "Any slower," he said, "and we'll be in neutral." LaChance watched one line tugging back and forth where it broke the water. It was sitting in a holder screwed down to the boat. Brett Leno prepared another line. The hook end had a colorful piece of plastic with hooks coming out everywhere, not a decoy that I'd fall for, at least until Brett Leno spread some "sar dine smell" on one section, and then plunked it overboard. Fish apparently have a sense of smell, or some thing like it, according to fishermen in the know. Biologist Jeff Baker, who was in the Leno Jetcraft with Lonnie Leno and the Holmeses, later said that salmon use a sense something like smell, but probably a little different, too, to return to their spawning grounds generation after generation. Every river, he said, has a different smell. Salmon and other returning fish use this sense for more than just getting fooled by 'Sardine Smell.' There may be some disagreement in the in dustry over whether the 'sardine smell' actually lures the fish or just masks the smell of humans, tBTi W , Ar - , 4 m : .Am t ' ... ,: 1 . . 5 No Luck Tribal Elder Gary LaChance takes up a pole but the fish just weren't biting that day. to poke through the clouds. The thought of it was more help than the heat it generated. Two fishermen in other boats, inconsiderately close, caught Chinook salmon before our eyes. The fish shined in the new sunlight looking a little bit like the 'Quickfish' lures. Noon was long gone when the crews headed home, finally, finally taking heed of the oft-offered counsel of Tribal Elder Gary LaChance, quietly supported by the otherwise independent reporter on the scene. "Well, now I have a choice," said Mel Holmes. "I can go home and hang my head or stop by a fish market and buy something."
