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NOVEMBER 15, 2003
Smoke Signals
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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.
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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,
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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."