The train from Ankara to Istanbul takes about four hours. It’s always a smooth journey, first traversing the broad, rolling tablelands of Anatolia, passing through a series of tunnels as you enter the mountains, emerging onto verdant green hills. Suddenly the sea appears, running alongside the route, waving like an old friend, as nostalgic and familiar as children’s voices at sunset.

My mother-in-law Nefise (“Anne,” or mama) and I were meeting a potential buyer for our apartment in Istanbul. We’ve had the apartment on the market a few months, and this buyer promised to meet our listed offer and pay in cash – in this market, an offer too good to sit on. So there we were – in separate cars, a slight inconvenience caused by last-minute online ticket purchase – on a Monday morning, when most people were stuck at work, bound for Istanbul by train. I enjoyed my role as the husband entrusted with this important mission, accompanying Anne to meet the buyers in the great city. We even brought along a suitcase in the event that they paid literally in cash. The morning took on the aspect of a caper – a Monday morning caper at that! – as I imagined clutching the suitcase stuffed with millions of liras, glancing nervously from side to side, wary of sudden ambush.

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Actually I had mixed feelings about the journey, for in fact the sale had about it an air of finality.

Our life in the great city was finally coming to an end. For 15 years, the city had been home and in that time the thought of living anywhere else had never occurred to me. The sweep and majesty of the city by the Bosphorus, the imperial past and megalopolitan present seemed tailor-made for me, and was the inspiration for a decade of stories. It was where I had met my wife and where our son had been born.

But last year’s catastrophic earthquake, which claimed more than 50,000 lives in Turkiye, was the final straw for my wife Özge. The fact that Istanbul itself was not affected by the earthquake was no reassurance. The 1999 Istanbul earthquake killed tens of thousands, and experts warn that another deadly quake, The Big One, could hit any time. And a neighbor had our building checked by the municipality, which listed our building as unsafe in the event of an earthquake. The decision was made to relocate to Ankara, the safest part of the country in terms of seismic matters.

Over the past year, I’ve slowly adjusted to our new life. Ankara, the nation’s capital, is about as far from Istanbul as you can get. It is a land-locked city, surrounded by the lonely plains of the interior. Forget the sea, which surrounds and breathes through Istanbul – in Ankara, not even the whisper of a river passes through it. It is a city of spanking new skyscrapers, political structures, universities and shopping centers. The culture, like the air itself, is decidedly dry, political and academic. Of course, Ankara is not without certain charms: people are friendly as people are friendly in a typical American Midwestern town, the young people healthy and attractive, and there are many parks, trees, and in the central neighborhood of Tunus sit several streets lined with decent bars.

We live on the campus of the university where I work as a teacher. That is also a benefit, for the lojman is quiet and comfortable, sequestered by groves of tree-lined streets, and we need not worry about our boy Leo going out on his own to play in the nearby park with the other children. The nights are deep and tranquil, and our sleep untroubled by sirens and the other ceaseless din of Istanbul life. We look forward to Leo starting kindergarten at the school located conveniently across the street from the university preparatory building where I teach. I could walk my son to school each morning and pick him up in the afternoons. “A great place to raise a family,” if you will (a phrase I’ve always felt provincial folk employ as a euphemism for “dull.”).

I chide myself, remembering that the move was a practical one, the decision lined with benefits on all sides, especially for our son, his future. And yet, as the train approached Istanbul, I felt wistful, the old excitement stirring. The air as moist, fragrant, the sunlight groomed by the faint mist looming over the sails of the ships offshore. There was that feeling of weighing security versus excitement, with excitement winning every time, at least in the imagination. And arriving in Istanbul itself, feeling as one does in all great cities, from New York to Paris to Rome, why would one want to live anywhere else? A curious despair hovered: were we really, finally, trading it all in? And for what, a bit of security in some dust-blown provincial town? Where was the mystery in that? The frailty of life, the misgivings of romance, the chaotic nature of urban philosophy as transient as a silent street, the marketplace of people and ideas? The city I had fallen in love with … But we were not on holiday, I reminded myself as the train came to a stop at the Solutlucesme stop. We were there on family business and for one day only. We needed to complete all the matters related to the sale and be back on the train to Ankara by six p.m. Not much time to even see the city, let alone be sentimental about it.

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The emlak, or estate agent, was a woman named Gül. She was a people person, greeting us outside her office with blousy familiarity, as if she had known us for years. While we waited for the buyers to arrive, Gül invited us to have Turkish coffee at a table outside the office, chatting in Turkish with my mother-in-law about the apartment, about the sale details, the couple buying the place, about Istanbul, Ankara, about me and my new job, etc, our new life.

Presently, a car pulled up, and we were introduced to Hakan, a young man, early thirties, thin, amiable. He spoke English and offered to give us all a lift to the bank. He and Gül both had made jokes about the suitcase Anne and I were lugging around. Realizing that the transaction was going to be done online, Anne and I both felt a bit silly, and the empty suitcase was left in Gül’s office while we went to the bank. The transaction itself was quick, and we were in and out of the bank in less than half an hour, the bank app on my phone suddenly registering a sum of money I never thought I would ever see in my life.

By this time Hakan’s wife, Meltem, had joined us. She was an attractive, bright-eyed woman, a physician at a nearby hospital. She and her Hakan had that eager excitement of a young married couple looking to score the home in which they hoped to settle down and start a family. On the drive to the deed registry office, we talked about the apartment. I told them about the neighborhood, recommending certain restaurants, cafes. We talked about how great, how convenient everything was, with the metro and the Bosphorus and Kadıköy close by. I felt happy for the young couple, knowing that they would be happy in the apartment as we had been happy, but also bittersweet, remembering when we had first moved there in summer 2022, and I had looked from the balcony out to the sea and felt that we had found our home. It was like those Russian priests mentioned in “Tender is the Night,” the ones who always went to their retreat on the Mediterranean coast each summer prior to the First World War. “’See you next summer,’” they said. But this was premature, for they were never coming back anymore.”

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By 3 o’clock, the deal was done. Hakan and Meltem received the keys, and we watched as they took a joyous selfie, sent immediately on WhatsApp to anxious family and friends. We all thanked Gül for making the day so efficient and hassle-free. We all wished each other well and parted. Anne and I went up the street for a late lunch. We’d been on the road since half past four in the morning and were starved, so we greedily snapped up the Adana kebab served at the restaurant we used to visit so often. Afterward, we still had a couple hours left. Anne understood that I wished to have a beer in Kadıköy, while she wanted to have a coffee and rest in a nearby park. We arranged to meet at the train station.

On the short walk to Kadıköy, I reflected on how comfortable I felt on these streets. All those years ago, it was Kadıköy that had taken me in. The neighborhood was called Yeldeğirmeni, or “Windmill,” and it was there I had lived for several years before meeting Özge. I passed the bakery, the liquor store, or “tekel,” owned by two Kurdish brothers who used to give me beer and cigarettes on credit before payday. The markets and small shops that I used to pass every day on my way to get a bus to the school. The narrow, cobbled streets alive now as they were then, the young men hauling the garbage wagons on their shoulders, the young people, the young women with a faint perspiration making their skin glisten in the late afternoon.

I had beer at the small tavern where I’d always gone on a spare afternoon, when the work was done and Anne was looking after Leo. The bar owner expressed no big surprise at not having seen me in a long while. I mentioned that we had moved to Ankara, but he just placed the cold bottle of Tuborg in front of me and retired to the bar, leaving me to my thoughts. It was still quiet, the place would get busy in the evening, after people got off work and the Erasmus students were done with their classes.

Drinking the beer, looking out at the streets, I thought about how the day had started off as a “Monday morning caper,” and had ended up as this, a reflection on the city, on the life we’d had, and how that life was now over. But at least our balance ended up in the plus. I had another beer, and another, and soon it was time to get to the station. I paid and wished the barman well. “See you next time,” I said.

It was only a five-minute walk. I felt good, knowing exactly where I was headed despite the crowded streets and busy hour. There would always be Kadıköy, and Istanbul, it wasn’t going to float away. And we still had our summer house down on the coast, ready for our return in the summer holidays, so we still had the sea in our lives.

Along the way to the station, looking out at the Fenerbahçe stadium silhouetted by the approach of evening, I stopped and got Leo the local team’s famous gold and blue football jersey from a street vendor. When I arrived at the station passengers were beginning to board the train. Anne was already there and we stood together with the empty suitcase, relieved of duty, both of us tired from a very long and eventful day. It was time to get back to Ankara, where my wife and son, and our new lives, were waiting.

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James Tressler, a former Lost Coast resident, is a writer and teacher now living in Ankara.

In order to operate floating offshore wind on the ocean’s surface, we need to know what conditions are like far, far below the waves. In depths over a thousand feet deep, the ocean floor is mostly unmapped, with only scant knowledge about the geologic features present. Offshore wind developers are going to change that with autonomous underwater vehicles—think of them as the drones of the ocean: underwater robots that can map the ocean floor.

Ciara Emery and Joel Southall of RWE join the EcoNews to talk about how they plan to study the bottom of the ocean and how the research will feed into the design of the project.

Company I 184th Infantry California National Guard Unit was established in Eureka on April 17, 1930, under the command of Capt. Joe Basier. Capt. Oscar Swanlund assumed command in 1936. March 3, 1991, will mark 50 years since Company I was inducted into the federal service. The unit was then under the command of Capt. William Walker.

I became a member of Company 184th Infantry in 1938. That was a period of innocence for most of us as far world politics was concerned. The problems of the Old World seemed far away, and we were desperately trying to find our way out of the long-lasting effects of the Great Depression. A buck private could earn 12 bucks every three months in the National Guard, and it was a strong incentive. In addition he would get two weeks’ vacation at San Luis Obispo at government expense.

I was too young to legally belong to the guard, but with four brothers in the unit, I could not wait to get into it. With the help of certain noncoms and my brothers, I got in. If Captain Swanlund was aware of my age, he didn’t try to stop my enlistment. He was also quite proud to tell later that Company I had I the most brothers within a single company in the state. Our picture soon as appeared in the California National Guard Magazine and that pleased Captain Swanlund very much.

The armory was in the old Winship School, which forms the west end of the present-day Civic Auditorium. When the auditorium was completed it provided an excellent indoor training area for typical infantry close order drill and general weapons training.

Once each year the company would assemble at the armory and prepare to embark to San Luis Obispo for maneuvers and training. With full field packs we would march to the Splendid Cafe for breakfast and from there to the Northwestern Pacific Depot to board the train for Sausalito. After a trip across San Francisco Bay on the ferry, we would board the Southern Pacific train to complete our journey to San Luis Obispo. Upon arrival we were quartered in Tent City. Along with maneuvers and training that was home for the next two weeks.

Prior to the time Company I was mustered into the federal service, my brothers and I had already entered the regular army. My brother Robert had chosen the Navy — thus we called him “Black Sheep.”

The original men of Company I came from every walk of life. During the war, many went on to gain commissions as officers, some as noncoms, and there were those who earned individual citations. Company I also earned citations as a unit.

Robert Viale. Photo: US Army.

One particularly memorable Company I man was Lt. Robert M. Viale, who was posthumously honored: Congress awarded Lieutenant Viale the Medal of Honor, the nation’s highest award that can be bestowed upon an individual, for heroism and gallantry above and beyond the call of duty. During the Philippine campaign Lieutenant Viale sacrificed his own life to protect those of his men and a group of civilians. Uncommon valor was a common mark of Company I men during World War II — as was service to the community in peacetime. 

Lt. Col. Ernest J. Reed, a CalTrans engineer, was an original Company I man. He later became the commanding officer of the 1401st Engineer Battalion (combat California National Guard headquartered in Eureka). As Captain Reed he was awarded the Silver Star and Bronze Star Award sometime prior to October 1944.

First Sgt. Fred R. McDonald was also awarded the Bronze Star at the same time. Sergeant McDonald later became a commissioned officer.

Capt. William Walker, a local banker, rose to the rank of lieutenant colonel.

Lt. Col. A. Clinton Swanson, a construction inspection consultant and former assistant director of public works, also commanded Company I for a time.

Capt. Oscar Swanlund, who was the owner of Swanlund’s Photo Shop, reached the rank of major and later served as Mayor of Eureka (1957-1961).

Supply Sgt. Johnny Langer, who was the co-owner of Langer and Kretner, also served as Mayor of Eureka (1947-1951).

Sgt. John W. Phegley, who became a science teacher at McKinleyville Elementary School, continues to serve the community as a photographer and photographic historian for the Humboldt County Historical Society.

Lowell Mengell, Sr., served on the City Council for several years.

Any many more — too numerous to identify in this article — from every background served their country in peace and war.

The critical need for experienced men drew some of the original personnel into the ranks of commissioned and noncommissioned officers — filling important stations in leadership roles.

Upon induction into federal service the unit was stationed first at San Luis Obispo. They saw service in such places as the Presidio of San Francisco, doing guard duty at the San Francisco Airport. They had maneuvers at places like Chehalis and Fort Lewis, Washington, and in the desert country near Fresno, and were quartered for a time in the horse stables at the Del Mar Race Track near San Diego. They were also sent to eastern Oregon and back to San Francisco before their combat assignment in the Aleutian islands and, finally, the South Pacific.

The 184th Infantry was released from the 40th Division in November 1942 and attached to the Seventh Army Division. As part of the Seventh Army Division, the 184th Infantry saw a wide diversity of action. In May 1943 they were assigned to the Ninth Amphibious Training Force — the Long Knives. On July 12 they embarked to the Aleutian islands. After hard fighting on Attu, they staged on Adak. In a bleak and uninhabited land of frozen tundra and mountains — one of the most hostile natural environments on earth — they prepared for the invasion of Kiska.

Extensive artillery preparation began on August 16,1943, when the order to assault the Japanese installations came. Along with the First Battalion 87th Mountain Infantry, field artillery, and engineers, with a Canadian brigade attached — they landed at Long Beach, Kiska. The commanding officer of the 184th Infantry ordered the band to play them ashore. Thus they disembarked to the strains of “California Here I Come” and “The Maple Leaf Forever.”

On shore, they discovered that the Japanese had vanished — the suddenness of their departure was evidenced by the tables set for mess, blankets soaked in oil but not burned, and many arms left in good condition. A lot of war casualties resulted from mines and booby traps left by the Japanese, but the 184th came away practically unscathed.

The 184th completed its mop up at Kiska and sailed with the Seventh Army Division to Hawaii, arriving there on September 15, 1943. After a period of rest and retraining, they sailed with the Fourth Marine Division for Kwajalein Island.

The 184th Infantry was given the task of seizing Kwajalein, a crescent-shaped island three miles long and one-half mile wide. It was heavily fortified with hundreds of shelters, so well built that it required point-blank artillery fire to penetrate them. In addition, flame throwers and explosive charges were needed to complete the task. On February 1,1944, at 5:00 p.m. a call to halt was made. By that time the 184th had lost 23 men — 10 killed and 13 wounded.

A tropical storm struck at about 10:45 that night, and it was accompanied by an awesome storm of artillery, mortar fire, hand grenades and machine-gun fire. The attack was in the 184th sector, and in the stubborn fighting that ensued, the 184th had 465 casualties — 65 killed and 400 wounded. The Japanese paid the price with heavy losses — 2,000 killed outright and 137 captured.

After completing the capture of Kwajalein and Enewetak, the Seventh Division returned to Oahu and Manus islands for additional training. They then returned to Enewetak to prepare for the invasion of the Philippine islands at Leyte.

The 184th had participated in 91 days of hard fighting during the battle for Okinawa. The Japanese were entrenched in a defensive system of heavily fortified positions.

From their positions dug deeply into the hillsides, coral escarpments and pinnacles — a desperate enemy poised. Though faced with almost certain annihilation, they defended their positions with fanatical and suicidal determination. Counterattacking by ceaseless importunity, they inflicted great casualties upon the 184th Infantry regiment. The battle-hardened 184th fought through rough terrain and inclement weather for 91 days of intense combat. The courage and gallantry of the unit prompted Gen. Simon Bolivar Buckner, Jr., to comment, after one of its operations on Okinawa, “A magnificent performance.”

After the campaign at Okinawa, the 184th landed in Korea on September 8, 1945. After a brief reunion with the 40th Division the 184th was deactivated. In January its colors were proudly returned to Sacramento. The remaining personnel were assigned for a time to the 31st Infantry Regiment. Thus the curtain was drawn once more upon a gallant and illustrious California organization.

Countless stories of adventure, terror. supreme human endurance and gallantry are embraced in any infantry regiment engaged in such life or death struggles. The men of Company I — wherever they were assigned — gave a fine account of themselves. Their actions and sacrifices served a critical need in the preservation of the freedoms we enjoy today. At the conclusion of World War II, the 184th Infantry had played a key role in the campaigns of the Aleutian islands, the Eastern Mandates, Leyte, Ryukus and Okinawa.

The 184th Infantry Combat Assault Team was reinforced with tanks and artillery for the invasion of Leyte. made their landing at Leyte on the left of the XXIV Corps on October 20, 1944. It was arranged with the First Battalion (Sacramento, Gilroy) on the left and the Third Battalion (Napa, Santa Rosa, Eureka and Modesto) on the right.

After the capture of the Dulag Airstrip and Burauen, the area from La Paz south to Abuyog and west to the mountains was cleared. Hard battles were fought at St. Victor. Supply situations became serious — shoes worn out from constant duty could not be replaced — and tropical infections and sickness plagued the troops. Still the troops were pushed hard without rest. In November the unit moved to the west side of the island to relieve elements of the 32nd Infantry. Ground captured by the Japanese 13th Division near Demulaan was regained. On December 2, 1944, the 184th, along with the 17th Infantry Regiment, resumed attack. After occupying Ormoc, the area from Delores to Valencia was secured. Christmas Day, 1944, marked the official end of the campaign, yet hard fighting and mopping up operations continued.

The Seventh Division had covered almost 2,000 square miles in its battles of liberation for the Philippine islands. Having conquered 52 Japanese organizations, they had done much to bring about the liberation of the Philippines.

On D day — April 1, 1945 — the 184th landed on the beaches of Okinawa. It They was there that the decisive struggle of the Pacific War was to unfold. Late in May the 184th Infantry spearheaded a night attack, breaking through the Naha-Shuri-Yonabaru line for a distance of five miles — living up to their motto — “Let’s go!”

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POSTSCRIPT: The history of Company I 184th Infantry Regiment is one of frequent change and reorganization. Its roots go back to the local militias of the days of the Gold Rush of 1849 and to the Sunshine Division, the 40th, which was organized at Camp Kearney, near San Diego, on September 16, 1917, as a unit of the World War I American Expeditionary Forces.

The earliest guard unit to be stationed locally was the Eureka Guard Company Sixth Brigade, formed May 15, 1859. A long list of changes, reorganization, and redesignation took place through the years. It even included the California National Guard Fifth Division Naval Battalion, which began December 7, 1895, and was redesignated the Fifth Division Naval Militia in 1901. After induction into federal service in 1917, it was redesignated as the Fifth Division California Naval Militia. In January 1919 it was deactivated, and there was no unit then for 11 years.

On April 17, 1930, Company I 184th Infantry Regiment of the 40th Division of the California National Guard was formed under command of Capt. Joe Basier. In 1936 Capt. Oscar Swanlund assumed command of Company I. On March 3, 1941, Company I 184th Infantry of the 40th Division was inducted into federal service under command of Capt. William Walker.

After mustering into federal service, the unit was separated from the 40th Division and placed in the United States Seventh Army Division. The unit saw extensive combat on Attu, the westernmost Japanese entrenchment in the Aleutian chain, and in the South Pacific.

On January 20, 1946, Company I 184th Infantry was deactivated in Korea.

After a large number of reconstitutions and redesignations through the 1950s and 1960s, the 579th Engineer Battalion Companies A and B — which you might say are the descendants in terms of military lineage of the 184th Infantry Regiment — were formed as they exist today.

This article is dedicated to those men both living and dead from our own community that shouldered the great burden of war — to establish a lasting profile in our hall of memories.

The author wishes to acknowledge the invaluable assistance in the preparation of this article of former Company I members Lt. Col Arthur Clinton Swanson (Ret), USAF, Lt. William E. Nellist, Jr., Sgt. John W. Phegley, Sgt. Glenn Evans, Sgt. Lowell McDonald and Pfc. Harold Starkey, Veterans of Foreign Wars Service Officer; and Staff Sgt. George Albert, Unit Historian, Company A 579th Combat Engineer Battalion of the California National Guard, and Brig. Gen. Donald E. Mattson, Commander. Center for Military History, Sacramento, California.

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The story above was originally printed in the September-October 1990 issue of the Humboldt Historian, a journal of the Humboldt County Historical Society. It is reprinted here with permission. The Humboldt County Historical Society is a nonprofit organization devoted to archiving, preserving and sharing Humboldt County’s rich history. You can become a member and receive a year’s worth of new issues of The Humboldt Historian at this link.

Japhy’s Soup and Noodles served its very last bowl of soup last night, after 25 years of serving bowls of soup (and also other things). The couple of days leading up to the restaurant’s sudden closure were mighty busy, with lines of people spilling out the storefront and down the block. It goes without saying: local soup-lovers are in a sad place. 

But G Mehta, Ronuk Patel and Roshan Patel say they have something to cheer Arcata up. The three are opening up a new ramen bar – and it’s right across the street from where Japhy’s was, up on G street in Northtown. 

Noodle-based soups are about the only thing the two businesses have in common, though. 

Susukino Ramen Bar, named after a neighborhood in the city of Sapporo, Japan, will be a late-night restaurant with a bar atmosphere and live DJ sets on Fridays. They hope to open in late June.

“We’re trying to really make it like a real Japanese izakaya, basically,” Ronuk told the Outpost during a tour of the space, still in the renovation stage. “You come and hang out, have a beer and eat good food, you know? And it’s just supposed to be that kind of vibe.” 

The restaurateurs, who own the cannabis farm Devi, said they’ve wanted to open a restaurant for a while, and Japanese food is the obvious choice. Inspired by a decade of annual snowboarding trips to Japan, Ronuk recruited his friend Gori for the restaurant, a chef who recently moved here from Sapporo. 

Gori will serve up four types of ramen, classic Japanese appetizers, and yakitori skewers, made with ingredients sourced locally when possible, Ronuk said. A bowl of ramen will probably cost about $15. They’ll pour wine and beer, but hope to open a full bar eventually – and they plan to stay open as late as 2:30 a.m. on the weekends. 

Located at 1504 G St, the relatively large space has seen a couple of restaurants come and go over the last several years. “It’s tough business, it’s not easy,” Ronuk said. “It really is passion for us, because we love food so much. We love Japanese food. We love ramen.”

He and his business partners are confident that Arcata wants and needs what they’re serving up. 

It’ll be the “neighborhood spot,” Roshan said. “We can bring a whole community together and build a culture around it: bring that Japanese vibe that’s super homey and friendly, everyone just come in here kicking it, grab beers, eat some meats, just enjoying their time.”

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PREVIOUSLY: ‘These Baby Fish Represent Hope’: CDFW Releases 500,000 Juvenile Salmon into Klamath River

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Press release from the California Department of Fish and Wildlife:

The California Department of Fish and Wildlife (CDFW) this week successfully completed the release of more than 2 million fall-run Chinook salmon smolts into the Klamath River.

On Wednesday, May 15, CDFW released approximately 1.3 million fall-run Chinook salmon smolts below the Iron Gate Dam and carried out another release of approximately 800,000 fish from the same location on Wednesday, May 22.

The salmon smolts were trucked about 7 miles to the release point from CDFW’s new, state-of-the-art Fall Creek Fish Hatchery. The fish carried coded-wire tags and had their adipose fins clipped to later identify them as being of hatchery origin and provide scientists and hatchery managers with data about their life histories and the success of the release.

Although still undergoing the final phases of construction, CDFW’s new Fall Creek Fish Hatchery, which replaces the 63-year-old Iron Gate Fish Hatchery on the Klamath River, has already exceeded its production goal of 3.25 million salmon in its first year of operation, the combined result of the excellent water quality in Fall Creek, a tributary to the Klamath River, along with improved efficiencies of the facility itself.

The salmon smolts are about six months old and average just under 3 inches in length. The smolt releases began earlier than scheduled last week due to warming temperatures in the Klamath Basin and C. Shasta disease concerns. C. Shasta – or Ceratonova shasta – is a naturally occurring freshwater parasite native to the Klamath River that can cause disease in young salmon. The fish are particularly susceptible in warmer water temperatures. Those concerns were alleviated this week, however, with a return of cooler temperatures to the Klamath Basin.

Dam removal provided a dramatic backdrop to CDFW’s salmon releases. The three remaining Klamath River dams targeted for removal – JC Boyle, Copco 1 and Iron Gate – are all being actively deconstructed. Their removal is ahead of schedule and could open up free fish passage and access to hundreds of miles of new spawning and rearing habitat to salmon returning from the ocean as early as this fall.

CDFW plans another release of  250,000 to 300,000 yearling fall-run Chinook salmon later this year. If dam removal proceeds at its current pace, CDFW expects to release the fish directly from its Fall Creek Fish Hatchery into Fall Creek, which has been inaccessible to salmon due to its location behind the Iron Gate Dam.

Dam removal, the transition to the state-of-the-art Fall Creek Fish Hatchery, increasing variability in hatchery releases at different salmon life stages to supplement in-river production and the strong relationships forged with tribal partners that have made these actions successful are all critical components of the California Salmon Strategy for a Hotter, Drier Future released by Gov. Gavin Newsom in January 2024.

Photos: Caltrans

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PREVIOUSLY:

• New Highway 96 Sign Printed in Both English and Karuk

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Press release from Caltrans District 1:

In collaboration with the Karuk Tribe, the township of Orleans, and Humboldt County, Caltrans recently completed work on the Orleans Community Enhancement Project, a nearly $500,000 effort that highlights the area’s native culture and promotes safety along State Route 96, the Bigfoot Scenic Byway.

The project was made possible by Governor Gavin Newsom’s Clean California initiative – a sweeping, $1.2 billion, multiyear clean-up effort led by Caltrans to remove trash, create thousands of jobs, and join with communities throughout the state to reclaim, transform and beautify public spaces.

The Orleans Community Enhancement Project features two new gateway monuments that mark the town’s north and south boundaries and bear the community’s name in both English and Karuk (Panamnik) languages. Tribal designs now adorn Orleans’ lone crosswalk, and changeable banners reflect the area’s rich Karuk heritage.

The Project also installed 10 decorative solar light posts to illuminate previously dim areas and pathways, increasing safety for pedestrians and cyclists. These features help to create a visual sense of place within the community and encourage travelers to slow down, and even stop to visit when driving through the community.

“The Karuk Council is very impressed with the concerted efforts of Caltrans, Humboldt County, and the Karuk Tribe Department of Transportation under the direction of Misty Rickwalt,” said Karuk Chairman Russell “Buster” Attebery. “The new custom gateway monuments, crosswalks, tribal designs, and solar lighting will make the town of Orleans a safer place and bring an awareness to the area’s rich Karuk heritage.”

“These enhancements not only pay tribute to Orleans’ history but also help make the town safer and more visually appealing for all of its residents and visitors,” said Caltrans District 1 Director Matt Brady. “The completion of this project marks a big step forward in revitalizing our local public spaces and promoting community pride.”

Since launching Clean California in July 2021, Caltrans and its local partners have picked up more than 2.3 million cubic yards of litter – enough to fill about 700 Olympic-size swimming pools. This represents a substantial increase compared to the department’s previous trash collection efforts and can largely be attributed to Clean California, along with other Caltrans litter removal efforts. Caltrans has hosted more than 500 free dump days in communities throughout the state – resulting in the collection of 12,000-plus mattresses and nearly 50,000 tires. The initiative has drawn more than 10,000 community clean-up volunteers and created 15,000 jobs, including positions for individuals who were formerly incarcerated, on probation, or experiencing housing insecurity.

For more information, visit CleanCA.com.

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Press release from the Humboldt County Sheriff’s Office:

The Humboldt County Sheriff’s Office wishes everyone a pleasant Memorial Day weekend. As we honor those who have served in our military and enjoy the outdoors, we urge caution regarding swimming in our local rivers. It remains too early in the season to safely swim in several of our waterways, notably the Trinity River. Both the Trinity and Klamath Rivers pose significant risks due to high water levels, cold temperatures, submerged obstacles, and swift currents. Even experienced swimmers may struggle in these conditions. Therefore, we advise the general public to refrain from swimming in these rivers at this time.

 For those choosing to swim in one of our local waterways, we offer the following safety recommendations: 

• Check river levels and flow information provided by the National Weather Service.
•  Avoid swimming alone.
• Stay near the shoreline.
• Avoid swimming into strong fast-moving currents.  If the current seems too strong, get out of the water.
• Refrain from consuming alcohol while swimming.
• Do not substitute inflatable water toys for a life jacket. Ensure young children wear a life jacket and supervise them closely while swimming.

 The Sheriff’s Office emphasizes the importance of exercising caution and using common sense when enjoying our counties rivers and the ocean. Your safety should always be the top priority.