There's not always a catch

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Commercial fisherman John Terebesi of Brookings is selling only crab off his 40-foot boat, the Lady Louise, at the Port of Brookings-Harbor now that the port's signature fish -- chinook salmon -- are off limits to commercial fisherman this summer.Jamie Lusch

May 11, 2008

By Mark Freeman

Mail Tribune

BROOKINGS - What passes for advertising aboard the Lady Louise is a stark example of the fresh seafood menu visitors will encounter along the Oregon Coast this summer.

Tourists stopping at the docks at the Port of Brookings-Harbor regularly hit up skipper John Terebesi for large, red Dungeness crabs he sells straight from the ship's hold for $5 a pound. But when they inquire about the day's catch of troll-caught chinook salmon, Terebesi points to the sign strung above the wheelhouse.

Two long pieces of black tape cross through the word "salmon," symbolically mirroring what federal fish managers have done to chinook salmon fishing in the ocean from Northern Oregon to the Mexican border.

This is Oregon's summer without salmon, the signature fish that built the state's southern ports of Brookings and Gold Beach.

"I guess there's really not much to say other than that," says Terebesi, a 30-year fishing veteran. "Mother Nature's been vicious to us this year."

Freshly caught local salmon will be conspicuously absent at port docks, seafood shops and restaurants after a mass shutdown last month of ocean sport and commercial fishing for chinook.

A crash in the numbers of chinook bound for California's Sacramento River and an overall downturn in mature fish now in the ocean mean no chinook fishing all summer south of Cape Falcon near Manzanita.

Any chinook found at coastal markets and restaurants likely will be from other states or countries.

"It'll be virtually impossible to get a day-old fish off the boat," says John Wilson, a commercial fisherman and co-owner of Fishermen Direct, a Gold Beach wholesale and retail supplier. "Everything's going to be frozen."

And what that frozen fish will be is anyone's guess.

Wilson recently sold the last of his chinook caught and frozen last fall. On a normal summer day, he sells about 100 pounds of chinook that he and his two commercial-fishing partners catch themselves.

Today, he's reduced to trolling by telephone for what he considers to be inferior Alaskan chinook. Asking for farmed chinook here is like cussing in church, so Wilson's bottom line has as much to do with ethics as economics.

"We've had adversities before," Wilson says. "But the reality really hits you when you're staring at an empty freezer and there's no fish you can find that measures up to your standards. So what do you do? Not even offer it."

He's hoping to buy some whole salmon landed in Astoria, the closest port with a small chinook fishery, this spring.

But at $10 a pound whole, Wilson will have to sell cut fillets for $20 a pound, minimum. It's even worse in the Rogue Valley, where wild-caught salmon is selling at a premium on the few odd days it's available.

Brent Kenyon, owner of the Wharf Seafood Market and Eatery on West Jackson Street in Medford, says he's making up for the loss of local fish by offering chinook from Alaska, where they are called king salmon.

When the Columbia River's short commercial season was open, he paid $21 a pound for whole fish, he says. Kenyon sold it for an eye-popping $24.95 a pound, and it flew out of the display case.

"If I have it, I can't keep it," says Kenyon, who also buys crabs directly from Terebesi. "They know it's wild-caught salmon. One guy paid $180 for one fillet and didn't bat an eye."

The rest get speeches from fishermen like Wilson, who offers would-be customers a try-me-later condolence.

"I guess the line is, 'We're growing them up this year in the ocean for you next year, but you can't have one now,'" Wilson says.

That's little solace to coastal businesses that cater to tourists drawn by salmon.

"That's the fuel that runs the machine," Wilson says.

Fears are that high gas prices, no chinook salmon charterboats for recreational anglers and no fresh chinook at the docks will stem the flow of tourists from the Rogue Valley and beyond.

"RV parks, hotels, restaurants, everyone here is thinking, 'Oh my God. What are we gonna do?'" says Dave Pitts, a Brookings tackle-shop manager.

State and federal disaster declarations are expected to funnel some money and services to Brookings, Gold Beach and other communities. With disasters declared early, towns expect to see relief faster than in 2006, when a lag between commercial chinook closures and disaster relief meant help trickled in well after the season would have closed.

Back then, Wilson received $20,000 in disaster relief, he says.

"Everybody's hoping for it," Wilson says.

"I'd just as soon fish than collect money," Terebesi says. "We'll see what happens."

Among commercial fishermen, the 59-year-old Terebesi is one of the luckier ones. Though he's lost the chance at the roughly $50,000 he would have earned from a typical salmon season, he has fall-back options.

Terebesi owns permits that allow him to land 1,600 pounds of black and blue rockfish a month, as well as 400 pounds of lingcod — enough to keep Brookings-area restaurants stocked with fresh bottomfish.

He also can dabble in the relatively small yet lucrative fishery that supplies live bottomfish to Bay Area markets.

"That's not much," he says, "but it's something to do."

With diesel prices at $4.26 a gallon, it barely pencils out to motor the 40-foot Lady Louise out of port, Terebesi says.

"If you add it all up, there's money to pay some bills, but no vacation," he says.

Despite the spectre of a rough summer, salmon fishermen hope to recoup some of their losses on short commercial seasons expected this fall off the mouth of the Chetco, Elk and Sixes rivers of Curry County.

And the spring winds that ripple across Terebesi's advertising sign are themselves an indicator of potentially better ocean conditions. Spring winds help draw nutrients toward the surface and boost the food chain upon which salmon rely.

Wilson relies on the belief he'll be back at sea trolling for chinook someday.

"It's not a pretty picture," he says. "But there's fish out there and we'll get to catch them eventually.

"We always want to put the salmon first," Wilson says.

Reach reporter Mark Freeman at 776-4470, or e-mail mfreeman@mailtribune.com.

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