Sunday in Seattle, temperatures in the low 80's, and every boat that
could still float was out on Lake Union or Lake Washington, in the cut
between, or in the locks connecting the lakes to Puget Sound.

It was as if everyone somehow knew that Monday morning would arrive gray
and cool. This was the last chance, the final hurrah in a seemingly
endless Summer of sunshine and days on the water that we who live here
would just as soon keep a local secret. We've got a lot of water around
here but if the rest of the country knew just how good it really is
every Sunday would be as crowded.

We had just come back from a week's cruising in the San Juans followed
by another two weeks in Southeast Alaska's inside passage but still
hadn't quite had our fill for the season. It was too good a day to just
sit in the wheelhouse and watch everyone else go by and far too good to
be anywhere but on the water so the Chief Mate suggested we pack a
cooler with a picnic lunch and launch the Zodiac for an afternoon's
gunkholing around Lake Washington.

The last time I had seen such a gaggle of boats in the narrow canal
between Lake Union and Lake Washington was on "Opening Day" when every
boat in Seattle is a debutante and that tree-lined passage the receiving
line.

The mix of boats was all at once amazing, incredible, a little
intimidating, but more than anything else a delightful melange of
people, boaters out boating. The water between 70-footer and the sides
of the cut were churned into the kind of waves that only exist in
Japanese paintings. Like in some cartoon, each spiky crest was topped
with a tiny rubber boat like ours or an even smaller canoe or kayak.
Trailer boats bobbed alongside Lake Union Dreamboats, smiles and waves
passed between them all.

We returned through the cut, still packed nearly solid with boats
returning in each direction. The day was still warm, boaters still
beaming and friendly in the flow that had not slackened one bit. If
anything more boats were passing between the lakes as the bigger boats
were returning through the locks.

The dock at Ivar's Salmon House was filled but when you are driving a
fender there is always a spot to tie off and it was just too nice a day
to miss the last of Ivar's happy hour seafood bargains. One of the many
"best places" in Seattle for boat watching has to be Ivar's. Every boat
moving between the lakes or to and from the marinas and yacht clubs in
Portage Bay passes close to the concrete barge that serves as Ivar's
outside seating.

We left Ivar's, fed and watered, content and mellow with the sun
settling low toward the tree brushed crest of Queen Anne Hill,
silhouetting the Space Needle and Seattle's downtown skyline. It was a
post card picture.

Part of that picture still included the old Washington State Ferry,
Kalakala. An eyesore to many, a vision to others, Kalakala lies forlorn
and lifeless, stern tied to the site of the lake's next gentrification
project. Her bow jutting into the channel, still proud of her heritage
even if too few others are. We pass close by.

"What the? Hey, watch out there's a buoy and a line ahead!" The C/M's
warning brought my attention back from Kalakala's past to our immediate
future. Just ahead and stretching a hundred feet into the channel was a
line of small floats ending in an orange "Polyform" buoy, one of those
inflated plastic balls that are like cherries in a tree here in the PNW.
"It's a gillnet!" Another lie across the channel ahead, low in the
water they were nearly impossible to spot except for the boy marking the
anchor at the outer end.

As we slowly cruised back through the canal at Fremont toward the
Ballard Bridge we saw several more nets. It was becoming dark and
increasingly difficult to spot the nets that blocked the channel from
both sides. We commented on how the evening could get interesting as it
become dark and more boats came through the locks into the lake.

After securing the Zodiac for the evening and retiring to the wheelhouse
to watch the parade of boats moving in from the locks we noticed a buoy
in the water about a hundred feet off my starboard side, extending
another 100 feet into the ship canal where I am moored. It was now dark
and the large lock had just opened and there was no light visible on the
buoy. This is going to be interesting. I am in the process of replacing
the antenna mounts and radar mast on my boat and have not reinstalled
the searchlight so there was nothing I could do to warn the approaching
traffic.

It was only a few minutes later when the first boat ran afoul of the
invisible net. Like a fly in a web it was stuck fast, pulling first one
way then the next, finally giving up to await its fate. A few moments
later flashing blue lights announced the arrival of a harbor patrol
inflatable. The spider, in the form of the net's owner, driving a skiff
under red and white lights arrived to claim his rights of damage to the
net. He was evidently watching his net but couldn't bother to warn off
approaching boats.

This scene was repeated again before we called it a night. Sometime
later I was awakened to the sound of sirens and the wake of a larger
harbor patrol boat as another boat was caught in the invisible web.

In the morning the net was gone. Whether it was removed by its owner or
dragged off or sunk by an irate boater I don't know. There is still
another net visible down near the old Coast Guard base toward the locks,
far enough into the channel to snare the inattentive or those without
night vision gear.

I called the harbor patrol to ask about the nets and how many boaters
had been snared by this latest hazard. The sergeant I spoke with was
delighted to answer my questions and was honestly happy to be able to
spread the word about the nets.

Harbor patrol knew that a fishing opening was coming up and that the
native fishermen could and probably would place their nets in the
navigable waters of Lake Union and the ship canal. They had no warning
that those nets were going to be placed Sunday afternoon. Around 6 pm
the first nets were placed and the phone calls began to flood harbor
patrol's switchboard.

It is legal for the native fishermen to place those nets 3/4 of the way
across the channel from the shore. They may place another net 3/4 of the
way across the channel from the opposite side a short distance further
along. The terminal buoy is supposed to be lighted. A "lightstick' is
considered sufficient lighting. A boater running into the net is
responsible for all damage done to the net. A net can cost up to $5000.

Here, finally, is the "boater beware" content. None of the buoys I saw
had a light visible. They may have had a lightstick attached but in a
city environment with lights reflecting on waves and ripples from all
directions, a lightstick placed on one side of a buoy at water lever is
not visible.

The good news in this situation is that the fishing has not been good
and the opening will close on Friday at noon. Hopefully they will not
make enough money to make it worthwhile to continue. Hopefully the money
they make from snaring boaters will not make it worthwhile to continue.

And the weather is back to "normal." It's a weekday, boat traffic is
thin again, so you folks in the soaked and windy East and the storm
slashed Midwest can relax, Seattle is gray and cool again.

Rick

Now *that's* a story. Good one. I hope your boating season is long and you
feel the need to write often, I'm already having fits from packing up my
boat.

Thanks.

"Rick" wrote in message
ink.net...
Sunday in Seattle, temperatures in the low 80's, and every boat that
could still float was out on Lake Union or Lake Washington, in the cut
between, or in the locks connecting the lakes to Puget Sound.

It was as if everyone somehow knew that Monday morning would arrive gray
and cool. This was the last chance, the final hurrah in a seemingly
endless Summer of sunshine and days on the water that we who live here
would just as soon keep a local secret. We've got a lot of water around
here but if the rest of the country knew just how good it really is
every Sunday would be as crowded.

We had just come back from a week's cruising in the San Juans followed
by another two weeks in Southeast Alaska's inside passage but still
hadn't quite had our fill for the season. It was too good a day to just
sit in the wheelhouse and watch everyone else go by and far too good to
be anywhere but on the water so the Chief Mate suggested we pack a
cooler with a picnic lunch and launch the Zodiac for an afternoon's
gunkholing around Lake Washington.

The last time I had seen such a gaggle of boats in the narrow canal
between Lake Union and Lake Washington was on "Opening Day" when every
boat in Seattle is a debutante and that tree-lined passage the receiving
line.

The mix of boats was all at once amazing, incredible, a little
intimidating, but more than anything else a delightful melange of
people, boaters out boating. The water between 70-footer and the sides
of the cut were churned into the kind of waves that only exist in
Japanese paintings. Like in some cartoon, each spiky crest was topped
with a tiny rubber boat like ours or an even smaller canoe or kayak.
Trailer boats bobbed alongside Lake Union Dreamboats, smiles and waves
passed between them all.

We returned through the cut, still packed nearly solid with boats
returning in each direction. The day was still warm, boaters still
beaming and friendly in the flow that had not slackened one bit. If
anything more boats were passing between the lakes as the bigger boats
were returning through the locks.

The dock at Ivar's Salmon House was filled but when you are driving a
fender there is always a spot to tie off and it was just too nice a day
to miss the last of Ivar's happy hour seafood bargains. One of the many
"best places" in Seattle for boat watching has to be Ivar's. Every boat
moving between the lakes or to and from the marinas and yacht clubs in
Portage Bay passes close to the concrete barge that serves as Ivar's
outside seating.

We left Ivar's, fed and watered, content and mellow with the sun
settling low toward the tree brushed crest of Queen Anne Hill,
silhouetting the Space Needle and Seattle's downtown skyline. It was a
post card picture.

Part of that picture still included the old Washington State Ferry,
Kalakala. An eyesore to many, a vision to others, Kalakala lies forlorn
and lifeless, stern tied to the site of the lake's next gentrification
project. Her bow jutting into the channel, still proud of her heritage
even if too few others are. We pass close by.

"What the? Hey, watch out there's a buoy and a line ahead!" The C/M's
warning brought my attention back from Kalakala's past to our immediate
future. Just ahead and stretching a hundred feet into the channel was a
line of small floats ending in an orange "Polyform" buoy, one of those
inflated plastic balls that are like cherries in a tree here in the PNW.
"It's a gillnet!" Another lie across the channel ahead, low in the
water they were nearly impossible to spot except for the boy marking the
anchor at the outer end.

As we slowly cruised back through the canal at Fremont toward the
Ballard Bridge we saw several more nets. It was becoming dark and
increasingly difficult to spot the nets that blocked the channel from
both sides. We commented on how the evening could get interesting as it
become dark and more boats came through the locks into the lake.

After securing the Zodiac for the evening and retiring to the wheelhouse
to watch the parade of boats moving in from the locks we noticed a buoy
in the water about a hundred feet off my starboard side, extending
another 100 feet into the ship canal where I am moored. It was now dark
and the large lock had just opened and there was no light visible on the
buoy. This is going to be interesting. I am in the process of replacing
the antenna mounts and radar mast on my boat and have not reinstalled
the searchlight so there was nothing I could do to warn the approaching
traffic.

It was only a few minutes later when the first boat ran afoul of the
invisible net. Like a fly in a web it was stuck fast, pulling first one
way then the next, finally giving up to await its fate. A few moments
later flashing blue lights announced the arrival of a harbor patrol
inflatable. The spider, in the form of the net's owner, driving a skiff
under red and white lights arrived to claim his rights of damage to the
net. He was evidently watching his net but couldn't bother to warn off
approaching boats.

This scene was repeated again before we called it a night. Sometime
later I was awakened to the sound of sirens and the wake of a larger
harbor patrol boat as another boat was caught in the invisible web.

In the morning the net was gone. Whether it was removed by its owner or
dragged off or sunk by an irate boater I don't know. There is still
another net visible down near the old Coast Guard base toward the locks,
far enough into the channel to snare the inattentive or those without
night vision gear.

I called the harbor patrol to ask about the nets and how many boaters
had been snared by this latest hazard. The sergeant I spoke with was
delighted to answer my questions and was honestly happy to be able to
spread the word about the nets.

Harbor patrol knew that a fishing opening was coming up and that the
native fishermen could and probably would place their nets in the
navigable waters of Lake Union and the ship canal. They had no warning
that those nets were going to be placed Sunday afternoon. Around 6 pm
the first nets were placed and the phone calls began to flood harbor
patrol's switchboard.

It is legal for the native fishermen to place those nets 3/4 of the way
across the channel from the shore. They may place another net 3/4 of the
way across the channel from the opposite side a short distance further
along. The terminal buoy is supposed to be lighted. A "lightstick' is
considered sufficient lighting. A boater running into the net is
responsible for all damage done to the net. A net can cost up to $5000.

Here, finally, is the "boater beware" content. None of the buoys I saw
had a light visible. They may have had a lightstick attached but in a
city environment with lights reflecting on waves and ripples from all
directions, a lightstick placed on one side of a buoy at water lever is
not visible.

The good news in this situation is that the fishing has not been good
and the opening will close on Friday at noon. Hopefully they will not
make enough money to make it worthwhile to continue. Hopefully the money
they make from snaring boaters will not make it worthwhile to continue.

And the weather is back to "normal." It's a weekday, boat traffic is
thin again, so you folks in the soaked and windy East and the storm
slashed Midwest can relax, Seattle is gray and cool again.

Rick

Well, that explains why there was a net strung between
the north and south harbor entrances in Bellingham.
It wasn't to catch fish--just boaters. Thanks for the read! Danlw
"Paul" wrote in message
le.rogers.com...
Now *that's* a story. Good one. I hope your boating season is long and you
feel the need to write often, I'm already having fits from packing up my
boat.

Thanks.

"Rick" wrote in message
ink.net...
Sunday in Seattle, temperatures in the low 80's, and every boat that
could still float was out on Lake Union or Lake Washington, in the cut
between, or in the locks connecting the lakes to Puget Sound.

It was as if everyone somehow knew that Monday morning would arrive gray
and cool. This was the last chance, the final hurrah in a seemingly
endless Summer of sunshine and days on the water that we who live here
would just as soon keep a local secret. We've got a lot of water around
here but if the rest of the country knew just how good it really is
every Sunday would be as crowded.

We had just come back from a week's cruising in the San Juans followed
by another two weeks in Southeast Alaska's inside passage but still
hadn't quite had our fill for the season. It was too good a day to just
sit in the wheelhouse and watch everyone else go by and far too good to
be anywhere but on the water so the Chief Mate suggested we pack a
cooler with a picnic lunch and launch the Zodiac for an afternoon's
gunkholing around Lake Washington.

The last time I had seen such a gaggle of boats in the narrow canal
between Lake Union and Lake Washington was on "Opening Day" when every
boat in Seattle is a debutante and that tree-lined passage the receiving
line.

The mix of boats was all at once amazing, incredible, a little
intimidating, but more than anything else a delightful melange of
people, boaters out boating. The water between 70-footer and the sides
of the cut were churned into the kind of waves that only exist in
Japanese paintings. Like in some cartoon, each spiky crest was topped
with a tiny rubber boat like ours or an even smaller canoe or kayak.
Trailer boats bobbed alongside Lake Union Dreamboats, smiles and waves
passed between them all.

We returned through the cut, still packed nearly solid with boats
returning in each direction. The day was still warm, boaters still
beaming and friendly in the flow that had not slackened one bit. If
anything more boats were passing between the lakes as the bigger boats
were returning through the locks.

The dock at Ivar's Salmon House was filled but when you are driving a
fender there is always a spot to tie off and it was just too nice a day
to miss the last of Ivar's happy hour seafood bargains. One of the many
"best places" in Seattle for boat watching has to be Ivar's. Every boat
moving between the lakes or to and from the marinas and yacht clubs in
Portage Bay passes close to the concrete barge that serves as Ivar's
outside seating.

We left Ivar's, fed and watered, content and mellow with the sun
settling low toward the tree brushed crest of Queen Anne Hill,
silhouetting the Space Needle and Seattle's downtown skyline. It was a
post card picture.

Part of that picture still included the old Washington State Ferry,
Kalakala. An eyesore to many, a vision to others, Kalakala lies forlorn
and lifeless, stern tied to the site of the lake's next gentrification
project. Her bow jutting into the channel, still proud of her heritage
even if too few others are. We pass close by.

"What the? Hey, watch out there's a buoy and a line ahead!" The C/M's
warning brought my attention back from Kalakala's past to our immediate
future. Just ahead and stretching a hundred feet into the channel was a
line of small floats ending in an orange "Polyform" buoy, one of those
inflated plastic balls that are like cherries in a tree here in the PNW.
"It's a gillnet!" Another lie across the channel ahead, low in the
water they were nearly impossible to spot except for the boy marking the
anchor at the outer end.

As we slowly cruised back through the canal at Fremont toward the
Ballard Bridge we saw several more nets. It was becoming dark and
increasingly difficult to spot the nets that blocked the channel from
both sides. We commented on how the evening could get interesting as it
become dark and more boats came through the locks into the lake.

After securing the Zodiac for the evening and retiring to the wheelhouse
to watch the parade of boats moving in from the locks we noticed a buoy
in the water about a hundred feet off my starboard side, extending
another 100 feet into the ship canal where I am moored. It was now dark
and the large lock had just opened and there was no light visible on the
buoy. This is going to be interesting. I am in the process of replacing
the antenna mounts and radar mast on my boat and have not reinstalled
the searchlight so there was nothing I could do to warn the approaching
traffic.

It was only a few minutes later when the first boat ran afoul of the
invisible net. Like a fly in a web it was stuck fast, pulling first one
way then the next, finally giving up to await its fate. A few moments
later flashing blue lights announced the arrival of a harbor patrol
inflatable. The spider, in the form of the net's owner, driving a skiff
under red and white lights arrived to claim his rights of damage to the
net. He was evidently watching his net but couldn't bother to warn off
approaching boats.

This scene was repeated again before we called it a night. Sometime
later I was awakened to the sound of sirens and the wake of a larger
harbor patrol boat as another boat was caught in the invisible web.

In the morning the net was gone. Whether it was removed by its owner or
dragged off or sunk by an irate boater I don't know. There is still
another net visible down near the old Coast Guard base toward the locks,
far enough into the channel to snare the inattentive or those without
night vision gear.

I called the harbor patrol to ask about the nets and how many boaters
had been snared by this latest hazard. The sergeant I spoke with was
delighted to answer my questions and was honestly happy to be able to
spread the word about the nets.

Harbor patrol knew that a fishing opening was coming up and that the
native fishermen could and probably would place their nets in the
navigable waters of Lake Union and the ship canal. They had no warning
that those nets were going to be placed Sunday afternoon. Around 6 pm
the first nets were placed and the phone calls began to flood harbor
patrol's switchboard.

It is legal for the native fishermen to place those nets 3/4 of the way
across the channel from the shore. They may place another net 3/4 of the
way across the channel from the opposite side a short distance further
along. The terminal buoy is supposed to be lighted. A "lightstick' is
considered sufficient lighting. A boater running into the net is
responsible for all damage done to the net. A net can cost up to $5000.

Here, finally, is the "boater beware" content. None of the buoys I saw
had a light visible. They may have had a lightstick attached but in a
city environment with lights reflecting on waves and ripples from all
directions, a lightstick placed on one side of a buoy at water lever is
not visible.

The good news in this situation is that the fishing has not been good
and the opening will close on Friday at noon. Hopefully they will not
make enough money to make it worthwhile to continue. Hopefully the money
they make from snaring boaters will not make it worthwhile to continue.

And the weather is back to "normal." It's a weekday, boat traffic is
thin again, so you folks in the soaked and windy East and the storm
slashed Midwest can relax, Seattle is gray and cool again.

Rick

"Rick" wrote in message
ink.net...
Sunday in Seattle, temperatures in the low 80's, and every boat that
could still float was out on Lake Union or Lake Washington, in the cut
between, or in the locks connecting the lakes to Puget Sound.

Nice post Rick, thanks.

I heard them announce this on the radio Monday, although I had no idea they
were stringing it across the ship canal.

Sounds like they might bring in as much for net repair as they do for their
catch.

jps