A River Never Sleeps

The current quickly carried him downstream about 100 metres, took him through some white water, then swirled him around the bend. By the time I caught up, he was playing a trout -- on the far side, right in the back eddy where he said the fish would be.

Harvey knows the Atnarko/Bella Coola river system better than most. Until he moved from the valley recently, he haunted the river in all seasons, whenever he could get away from his duties at the Bella Coola hospital. In the warmer months you would find him wearing a windsurfing wetsuit, so that he could swim to otherwise unreachable fishing places.

He is a naturalist who often spends as much time studying plants or birds as he does fishing. He knows when the different salmon species come in, and where the steelhead lie. He knows the habits of sea-run cutthroat, resident rainbows and Dolly Varden char.

Fishing in water so rich with glacial silt that it is the color of milk, he can tell you just where to cast and how to mend your drift, so that your fly will come within inches of a holding fish -- and it will take, despite the poor visibility.

For years Harvey and other concerned anglers in the Bella Coola Valley tried to get the government to bring in special regulations to protect steelhead. They weren't biologists, but they lived on the river, they fished it and swam in it and spent countless hours simply communing with the salmon. And they knew the steelhead were in trouble.

But it wasn't until stocks underwent a catastrophic crash that government biologists listened to them -- closing the steelhead fishery four years ago. There is no steelhead fishing allowed on the Bella Coola/Atnarko system, or in any of its tributaries. Reports suggest the runs are now recovering, and there are high hopes the fishery will be opened again. The point is, the full closure came too late, only after it became painfully clear that no fishing could be allowed. Had catch and release regulations been imposed 10 or 15 years ago, the Bella Coola might not have undergone such a devastating decline.

For years, Harvey and other members of the Bella Coola Rod and Gun Club pressed the government to make a preemptive strike to save the cutthroat. Although the river remained productive, old timers sensed that the stocks were in decline. They wanted protective measures taken, before the cutthroat population crashed like the steelhead had.

``At one time thousands of sea-run cutthroat spawned in the Bella Coola River,'' said Harvey. ``In fact, the Bella Coola River may have been the finest sea-run cutthroat stream in North America.''

Some anglers recall catching up to 80 cutthroat a day. A few years ago, the catches had fallen to the point that most would be happy with 20 in an entire season. Fishermen also reported that there were fewer and fewer of the really big trout around.

Luckily, biologists listened and moved to limit the killing of wild cutthroat while the stocks were still in relatively good shape. Regulations now restrict the daily quota to just one trout or char a day, in the mainstem of the Bella Coola River, in April and May. The rest of the year all cutthroat must be released. Reports from the river this spring indicate the stocks have bounced back remarkably.

"At times this spring it seemed there were just as many cutthroat as there ever had been," said Harvey. "You could stand in some runs and fish were rolling all around you, as far as you could see."

He says the cutthroat aren't big, but there are a lot of 16-18 inch, two pound fish, and occasional big ones that push towards four pounds.

It looks like a big wave of cutthroat in one or two age classes is coming through - fish that would have been killed had the generous catch limits remained in place.

“I think they are on their way back," said Harvey. He should know. He's swum the river almost as much as the trout themselves.