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It hardly seems a year ago that we lit the giant sparklers and went out into the park across the street to help the rest of the world light up the darkness of the New Year. But here we are in December, the last of the coho just about done, the trout lakes buried under ice and January staring us in the face again. Our next issue will be in 2001. It was just about then, last year, that we started talking idly, the way fishing friends will as they tie flies, sliding the whiskey bottle across the table, about putting a magazine out on the Web. Our own magazine Utilize the technology, we thought. Leap into the void of cyberspace! And get that damn Mallard feather out of my Scotch. We wondered if people would like to read good stories, supported by strong pictures. Long stories, and pictures that glowed with the light pushed through them from desk top computers. We wondered if we were the only guys around who would like Glenn Baglo's twisted view of the world, or Harvey Thommasen’s detailed reports on nature, or long, long pieces of fiction, by great, but virtually unknown writers like Van Egan. Well, we know now. Since our launch last spring, more than 500,000 people have logged on to A River Never Sleeps. When we set out we thought it would be great to get 50,000 hits for the year. We had that many by our second month, drank the Champagne and wondered, what next? Are we riding a rocket, or what? The hits kept on coming. We went to 40,000 a month, then 80,000 then 95,000 - and counting. More importantly, the site had what they call stickiness. That is, people kept coming back. You've stuck to our site, the way bits of polar bear hair and goose down do to the table top when you've mixed Scotch and head cement and rubbed it in with your elbows. At the start of each month, when we post the latest edition, the hits shoot up and keep rising steadily for a week to 10 days. Then they even off, and slowly taper off towards the end of the month. We know from that, that people are looking forward to each issue, that they come back to it, and that they read it from cover to cover. Except this is cyberspace, and there are no covers. But there is a cover shot, the sound of a stream, and the sound of song birds. Hey, you can't do that in print. In 2001 we have some big challenges. The little hobby we started has grown into a real magazine, that is increasingly drawing us in away from the river. We're not sure we want that. But we do know we love being in touch with fly fishermen around the world, in Italy, Saudi Arabia, the United States and U.K., in France and Japan and South Africa, New Zealand and Australia. Only one reader in Taiwan, but he keeps coming back. We imagine him, in an office tower, dreaming of a wild steelhead stream in British Columbia. We'll keep the magazine up for him, and for all of the rest of you. And, with your continued support, we'll find a way to make it stand on its own. Maybe we'll sell subscriptions. Maybe we'll take some ads. Maybe we'll find a sponsor who loves fly fishermen as much as we do. If you have some ideas, you could let us know. In the meantime, stay tuned, and see if we don't get the next issue up January 1, 2001 just as planned, hangovers or not. - With best wishes for the season, Mark Hume & Nick Didlick Letters can be sent via e-mail to: letters@ariverneversleeps.com
The Editor: I found your article on the importance of salmon carcass nutrients to the ecosystems of the Pacific North West very informative. I had always realized that this reverse system of nutrient flow was important but had never read any studies on its effects on growth rates of juvenile salmon and steelhead. A few months ago I was vacationing in the Queen Charlotte Islands and was alarmed to see local Haida people harvesting the roe of pink salmon from the Pallant creek counting fence and throwing away the carcasses. Not only were they wasting the carcasses with the consent of DFO, but they were dumping these carcasses in a nearby inlet so they would not receive complaints from tourists. A much better solution in conjunction with your article's research would have been to transport these carcasses upstream to provide a vital input of ecosystem nutrients helping maintain healthy salmon, trout and steelhead population for the future. Greg Knox Dear River Never Sleeps: I have become increasingly interested in the Upper Pitt River, on which the gravel mine has successfully been halted. I am greatly thankful that efforts were made to save the river. I am conducting a research proposal for my Environmental Resource course at Trent University, in Peterborough, Ontario, and the Pitt River has motivated me to investigate further into the political discourse and environmental implications. I have a personal attachment to the Pitt region, where my father's father owned a lodge on the Widgeon Slough (which is now a 'bird sanctuary' and is provincially owned). The proposed gravel mine shocked me, and my father, Bill McLallen, who devoted time in raising his concerns with CKNW radio talk show host, Rafe Mair, Pacific Resource Area Watershed Network (PRAWN), Seymour Salmonid Society and other local non-for-profit groups. I am currently looking into other cases of ecosystem mismanagement,and the dislocations (of course) between political constituencies of government and private enterprise. Thanks to public initiative and a network of environment and conservation groups, we still have some outstanding land to stand-by and take care of. Sincerely, {E-mail letters may be edited for clarity, taste and brevity. It is understood they express the opinions of the writers, not the editors.}
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