Cheam, fisheries officers spar
Maurice Bridge
Vancouver Sun
Friday, August 19, 2005
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CREDIT: Stuart Davis, Vancouver Sun
ILLEGAL-FISHING STANDOFF ON FRASER RIVER: While federal fisheries field supervisor Doug Clift intercepts and asks for identification from the men at right, who were salmon fishing illegally on the Fraser River Thursday, two Cheam men (top) charged the boat to disrupt Clift's questions.
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CHILLIWACK -- It was another tense day on the Fraser River Thursday as Cheam fishing boats came off the beach in a bid to keep fisheries officers from arresting two men for fishing illegally for salmon with a driftnet.
The confrontation came one day after the revelation by a senior enforcement official with Fisheries and Oceans Canada that RCMP officers have been called in to investigate a similar incident that turned ugly last week.
On Aug. 8, a fisheries patrol boat carrying several enforcement officers was reportedly swarmed by a number of small vessels as it moved in to investigate illegal driftnet fishing. No injuries were reported, and no charges have been laid so far, but the investigation has not been concluded.
For Fisheries and Oceans field supervisor Doug Clift and fishery officer Derek Ray, Thursday's uniformed patrol was nothing out of the ordinary.
Within 20 minutes of putting into the river downstream from Hope, they received a call from another fisheries officer, telling them an illegal driftnet had been put into the water across the river from Cheam Beach, a couple of hundred metres upstream from the Agassiz-Rosedale Bridge.
Driftnet fishing for native food and ceremonial purposes is permitted by fisheries regulations at certain times; this was not one of them. Often done at night, it is a quick and furtive activity, with nets left in the water for only 10 or 15 minutes at a time.
Ray opened the throttle of the 150-horsepower Mercury outboard, and even with a Sun photographer/reporter team aboard, the six-metre rigid-hull inflatable skimmed down the river at 50 km/h, rounding a corner just above the bridge at 8:50 a.m. in time to see a small punt with two men in it beside a row of floats.
As the patrol boat slowed and approached the 3.5-metre khaki-coloured punt, the man in the bow began frantically pulling in the net. Every metre or two of monofilament mesh held another three-to-four-kilo salmon.
As the man on the net struggled with the load, his young companion handled the small outboard engine. In the bow of the patrol boat, Clift identified himself as a fisheries officer, and told the two to keep pulling the net and to identify themselves.
They kept working, but said nothing as the patrol vessel stood alongside, Clift holding onto the gunwale of the punt. In less than two minutes, the two had support when a five-metre black outboard-equipped boat charged off the beach on the south side of the river.
In shadows cast by the morning light, about a dozen trucks and and a couple of trailers were parked along the shore, with coolers and beach chairs scattered around. Several men on the shore got to their feet, and someone shouted "Wake everyone up!"
The black boat raced toward the fisheries vessel, diverting Clift's attention and forcing him to let go of the punt.
"This is a fisheries investigation," he shouted, as it pulled close. "Don't interfere."
The boat operator, a young man with his face partially hidden by a black hoodie, backed off a short distance, but did not leave. His companion pulled off his T-shirt and tied it around his face to hide his own identity, replacing his baseball cap to leave only his eyes visible. He shouted at the fisheries officers, his words unintelligible behind his mask, but his anger clear.