We just finished up nearly two weeks of rare temperatures on Haida Gwaii. Just like Vancouver has been getting pummeled by unlikely snow storms, to our dismay, so have we. Our March fish are much like our guests from sunny California: they hate the cold. When water temps edge toward 33 degrees, our fair-weathered ocean friends turn their noses up and push back out to seals-ville. Facing the relentless pursuit from seals and sea lions is even more appealing than gracing us with their presence in the rivers.
Without all the pesky hassles of having to net fish or be distacted by the loud sounds of barking reels I had extra time to reflect. I was able to reflect on the amazing differences of sounds in the rainforest when there is several feet of snow on the ground as opposed to green spongy moss, which is the norm. Sounds were so much louder and clearer, but was there scientific proof to this?
Absent of wind in the rainforest, it is generally amazing how loud each sound can carry. When you combine no wind with the cold blanket of snow, a pin drop echoes like a roughing the passer whistle when the qb is Aaron Rodgers .
The truth is that, when the ground has a thick layer of smooth and hard snow, the surface will actually help reflect sound waves. Sounds seem clearer and travel farther under these circumstances.
The problem with this is that, when my guests ask “Why is the fishing so slow?” and “I can’t believe how dead it is,” I can hear them even louder than if there wasn’t any snow. But if there wasn’t any snow, we would be catching fish. Science pretty much shows that, when it snows here, you don’t catch as many fish, and you hear your guests complain about it at incredibly loud decibel levels. Just one of those evil facts of mother nature I guess.