Skip to content

Column: Adams River salmon run in decline

By James Murray, Observer Contributor
8596317_web1_salmonrun
The Adams River salmon run is a major annual event — when there are enough fish. ~ Photo by Alex Cooper

By James Murray, Observer Contributor

When autumn winds begin to blow, there is a hint of frost in the air and there is talk of bright, shiny rainbow trout making their way to the holding pools of the Adams River, my thoughts still turn to the runs and riffles of the Adams and casting a line to trout feeding on salmon eggs.

Yes, it’s in the fall that something stirs inside me. Something draws me to banks of the river where I can once again breathe in the cool, crisp morning air, feel the sun on my face and enjoy that sense of camaraderie that comes with standing and casting a line with fellow anglers – sharing with them the experience that so many others have shared before us. It is in the fall that I cannot help but feel a connection with the Adams and its fast flowing waters.

How many times over the past 40 years or so have I stood on the banks of the Adams and watched for returning sockeye salmon to complete the inevitable and eternal part of their life cycle? Salmon that have made their way past so many hurdles on the Fraser River before reaching their spawning grounds.

All I know is that I feel good standing there, knee deep in those fast-flowing waters. How often do I find myself reflecting on the past, contemplating the future? Things seem to make better sense when I’m on the river. Everything just seems to fall into place. And, when I happen to catch one of the bright, shiny rainbow trout that have come to feed on the eggs of the spawning salmon, I can tell you this much, everything disappears from my mind when I have a fish on. All I have to care about is the moment. It’s just me and the fish – the eternal struggle of predator and prey.

The adrenaline rush, the excitement, such an experience is hard to express in words, especially to anyone who has never experienced fighting a three-and-a-half-pound trout on a fly rod with a five- pound leader.

So why do I fish? Perhaps it is in response to some primordial instinct, some need to pit myself against nature. Perhaps it is just a way for me to get away for a while from all the hustle and bustle and pressures of everyday life.

All I know for sure is that when I’m standing knee-deep in the fast flowing waters of the Adams River, casting my line to the possibility of a trout, I’m happy and I’m content.

Each cast made without a strike is but a prelude to the moment when I feel that sudden, heart-stopping bump on the end of my line.

However, the river is changing. For years now, the sockeye numbers have been in steady decline. The Adams River sockeye run has gone from being the largest salmon run in the world to a pale shadow of what it once was.

In seasons past, I used to just stand on the banks of the Adams and marvel at the sheer numbers of salmon that had come to spawn.

Those numbers, however, are gone – perhaps forever. No longer does the river turn red with spawning sockeye. I can only wonder if the day will come when the sockeye numbers return to what they once were – or anything close.

And there is plenty of blame to go around.

The real problem is there doesn’t seem to be a solution to the problem.

Never before has the adage: “I’m with the government and I’m here to help” seemed more ominous. What ever happened to the recommendations made by the $37 million Cohen Commission? Surely, if there is a will there is a way? Time is of the essence.

The rainbow trout still come though, at least for now. So do the anglers, although in both cases their numbers seem less and less each year.

With so few salmon, the trout fishing has become somewhat of a hit-and-miss proposition. With the way things are going, there will soon be no salmon and then trout, and then there will be no anglers to breathe in the cool crisp morning air or feel the sun on their face – and no one to share that sense of camaraderie with.