The Smelt Run

Every year during the 1960's a true sign of spring was the annual smelt run on Lake Superior. As a family we made the trek several times heading to Ashland where on the shore we were sure to find successful smelters. A smelt is a small silver fish that when deep fried in a beer batter is yummy perfection. We didn't actually take part in the fishing but went to watch and buy some of the silver. Getting to the beach of Lake Superior in the early evening, we could already see people set up for the night. Large campfires made from shoreline driftwood glowed as orange flames took the chill from the evening. People were everywhere, many with an adult beverage close at hand. Those actually fishing were dressed warmly with winter jackets and hats but the rest of their body was covered in waist high rubberized waders. Smelt are one of the few fish it is legal to net during their short season. In fact as they come into shore for spawning in the warmer shallower waters, hearty men and women would carry their nets out from shore to waist high, quickly the partners would drop the net into the water and start hauling it in to shore. The trek back to shore though usually only a couple hundred feet was very slow as the nets became heavy with the silver fish. Near shore in about a foot of water, other helpers would come to sort the catch and release any nonsmelt before the catch was taken ashore and dumped into coolers, or other receptacles. We watched the process repeated over and over, cheered with the crowds as catches were brought to shore and of course borrowed someone's campfire to warm our chilled bodies. Soon, Mom would signal Dad that it was time to go. Dad would make a purchase, usually about $.05 a pound for the fish he and Mom deemed they had freezer room for. We soon were snuggled in the back seat of the car for a nap while Dad drove the 90 miles home.

The smelt runs have dwindled over the years so it is no longer a huge event. Fisheries management of the sporting trout species competed for the same food sources and the smaller fish lost out, in time becoming food for the larger species. My memories of that indicator of spring live on.