My friend Benjamin Greené and I recently
made some traditional bent-wood halibut hooks to give away as thank-you gifts
to the many Haida people that assisted in his documentary film about indigenous
foods called Survival Prayer. The process of
making these hooks helped me appreciate both the complexity of traditional
Haida fishing techniques as well as the functional beauty of the hooks
themselves.
Pacific Halibut (Hippoglossus stenolepis) are among the largest fish native to the
Pacific Northwest, reaching 8 feet in length and weighing as much as 500
pounds. Such colossal beasts require specialized fishing equipment, and the
tackle used by Indigenous fishermen in the Pacific Northwest was a sort of
hybrid between that used for whaling with a harpoon and fishing with a hook and
line. Like Captain Ahab’s crew, Indigenous Halibut fishermen fastened their
fishing lines to buoys that provided constant flotational resistance to the panic
stricken leviathans. This system both allowed the fisherman to avoided
potentially dangerous contact with the Halibut until it was thoroughly played
out and protected the fishing gear from breaking-force strains. Further shock
absorbance was provided by the fishing lines, which were braided from the
elastic stalks of Bull Kelp (Nereocystis
luetkeana). Nancy Turner’s book Plants of Haida Gwaii describes the
elaborate process of making fishing line from Bull Kelp.
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| Hilary Stewart's Halibut fishing illustration |
The manner in which the hooks were tied
to the business end of the fishing line was very particular to halibut fishing.
An anchor stone was tied to the very end of the fishing line, sometimes with a
slip knot that was shaken loose when a halibut was caught. A “spreader” made
from the wood of two Sitka Spruce (Picea
sitchensis) branches was fastened a few feet above the anchor stone. The
bases of each branch were lashed together forming a bow shape, and the junction
point was securely tied to the fishing line. To both ends of the spreader,
halibut hooks were secured on short “leaders,” that suspended the hooks a foot
or two from the sea floor (See page 39 of Hilary Stewart’s Indian
Fishing for a detailed illustration of this system). The flexibility of
the Spruce spreaders further increased the shock absorbency of the entire
fishing rig.
There are various styles of traditional
halibut hooks, but the ones that I think are the most elegant are made from Yew
(Taxus brevifolia) wood that is bent into a “C” shape. I
had some scraps of Yew left over from a digging stick project, and milled them
into ½ inch thick square staves that were about 20 inches long, taking care to
cut along the grain lines. I soaked these for several days, and then made plans
to meet with Benjamin to bend the staves into the proper hook shape.
Yew wood is very dense, tough, and stiff.
It is prized for bow making wherever it is found, and was also used by Native
Americans in the Pacific Northwest for clubs, splitting wedges, and tool
handles. Bending such a stout wood requires steam. Traditionally, yew wood
staves were steamed inside of kelp stalks that were heated on hot rocks.
Benjamin and I modernized the process with a steam kettle and plastic bag. We
placed the wood inside a long tubular plastic bread bag, and secured the open
end of the bag to the mouth of the tea kettle. You might think that the steam
would melt the plastic, but it doesn’t (although if you are using a gas stove,
be careful not to melt the plastic on the flame!). After 45-60 minutes of
steaming, the wood was nice and flexible, and we quickly bent it around some molds
that I had prepared.
The result wasn’t always too pretty at
first, since many of the bending fibers frayed out, but for the most part, the
frays were small enough to sand or carve off. We tempered the wood by baking it in the
oven at about 300 degrees for 20 minutes. Heat treating is really
important because it drives off the moisture that makes the wood pliable.
Traditionally, the tempered hooks were then sealed with mountain goat tallow to
prevent the seawater from re-softening the wood. Doubtful that our hooks were
going to actually be used, we skipped this step for fear the hooks might become
the subject of more fly than human admiration.
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| A sharpened bone barb ready to be lashed on |
The barbs of these hooks are traditionally made from either wood or bone, and since I had some deer bone, I cut it into thin strips which we sharpened and lashed to hook with artificial sinew. Traditionally, spruce roots were used for the lashing.
Halibut hooks are specifically
engineered for halibut. My mentor, Clan Chief Kwaxsistalla told me that the gap between
the end of the barb and the top of the hook should be the thickness of your
thumb, because that is thickness of a good sized Halibut's lip. Fish that are too big--and
likely to break the hook or line--have a lip that is too big to fit into the
hook, and fish that are too small can’t get their mouth over the barb. The long
curving tip of the halibut hook helps deflect the mouth of the fish to the
right part of the hook and makes it impossible to snag the bottom, seaweed, or the
wrong part of the fish. Modern tackle may
benefit from stronger materials like steel and Dacron, but they aren’t nearly as tuned in to the nature of Halibut. I even argue that traditional gear is more sustainable because it
targets moderate sized fish, sparing the large reproductive females and
undersized juveniles.
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| Finished Halibut hooks |
After a few days of work, Benjamin and
I had a dozen finished halibut hooks to show for our labor.
