From his island home in western Washington state Bob Snell peers out to the saltwater that has surrounded him for nearly all his adult life. The shifting seas and skies that have been his constant companions are mirrored in his pale blue eyes as he reflects on his life. 

A life that has been filled by his family and two full careers, and highlighted by international moves and travel, building houses and cancer survival. 

In 1968, a contract to teach mathematics at the University of Puget Sound in Tacoma brought Snell to Washington state. He recalls, “I fell in love with the Puget Sound on first contact.” 

Beneath the watchful eye of Mount Rainier and the towering evergreens that dominate the landscape, sits the jewel of the Puget Sound itself — a beguiling beauty that draws all eyes and beckons the curious closer. 

Snell answered this call, saying, “Once I got to Puget Sound, I started doing some sport fishing with the same kind of wire lines and lures that are used to catch Lake Superior fish.” 

A young Snell with his big catch, in Michigan. Courtesy of the Snell family

Family tradition

A native of the Upper Peninsula (UP) of Michigan, Snell has been fishing since boyhood. His father and uncles had acquainted him with trolling gear to use on the big lake, as Lake Superior is colloquially known.

“My grandfather had what was known as a fish camp on the shores of Lake Superior,” Snell recounted. “My dad handcrafted lures and aluminum trolling reels, and my grandfather made spoons from shiny, aluminum coffee pots.” 

Spoons made by Snell’s father and grandfather. Courtesy of the Snell family

Lake Superior is a serious body of water, known for its sudden storms and the many boats and lives it has claimed. 

“Once, when I was 10, fishing on Lake Superior with my dad and Uncle Matt in a small, open boat, we were caught in a sudden storm,” he said. “Waterspouts emerged, outdoor toilets were washed away, and roads were closed.” He still remembers the fear he saw in his father’s eyes.

“Of course, I was frightened,” he said, “but that didn’t keep me away, as I fished it numerous times afterward.”

One of these subsequent ventures was fated to be Snell’s soft introduction into the world of commercial fishing — a vocation he would later dedicate over 50 years of his life to. 

“Once, when we had more than we could use, I walked around the village of Palmer peddling herring, which folks bought for smoking and pickling. And that was my introduction to commercial fishing.”

Snell’s aquatic adventures began at another family camp built by his grandfather on Shag Lake outside of Gwinn, Michigan. It was there that he first learned to swim — a rite that gave him a pass to use the rowboat and opened a new world of adventures. 

“I spent a lot of time in and on the water, as I was free to explore the lake, sometimes alone and sometimes with friends.”

Spending the summer at the camp put him in constant touch with nature; a love that has endured throughout his 85 years. 

Like a fish to water

Snell’s passion for fishing blossomed like an early Northwest spring once he began exploring Puget Sound. As a professor, he could arrange his teaching schedule to accommodate his fishing schedule — going out early or late — and of course, on weekends and during the summer break. 

In Tacoma he had easy access to the Sound which kept him company, and a boat at the Sixth Avenue Boathouse.

It was through this affiliation that he eventually met a fellow fisherman and artist named Barnacle Bill, who was building his own boat. Recognizing Snell’s love of fishing, he suggested that Snell buy his current vessel — a 17-foot fiberglass boat named The Red Snapper — and take it to Neah Bay to try fishing on the open ocean.

Snell bit. He had already been considering taking the leap from sport fishing to commercial fishing, and in the summer of 1971 while on break from the university, he did. Snell boarded The Red Snapper, waved goodbye to his wife, Connie, and their young daughter and endeavored to navigate the 180 miles out of the relative protection of Puget Sound and into the open Pacific. 

Snell landing a tuna. Courtesy of the Snell family

With a smile, Snell recounts this maiden voyage, saying, “By the time I got 40-miles into the trip, in the heart of Seattle, my boat was overheating, and my outboard engine wasn’t running properly.” 

He knew that repairs at sea were a possibility and was prepared with a spare outboard motor, but while attempting to put it on, he dropped it in the water. Snell was able to limp The Red Snapper into port on Bainbridge Island, near Seattle, and have the waterlogged engine refurbished there.

The Red Snapper was small for an ocean vessel and minimally equipped, with only a depth finder and a CB radio. 

As he continued, Snell said, “There were times that the water was so rough the waves would splash up over the front of the boat and drench the inside of my cabin, where my bunk was set up,” saying with a chuckle, “But I didn’t let that stop me.” 

Soon however, a storm forced him into harbor at Port Angeles for three days. At that same time there had been a regatta happening on the Sound. “The wind blew so hard, it snapped the masts on three of the sailboats,” he said. 

While in port, The Red Snapper also sprung a leak in the hull, toward the back of the boat. The undaunted Snell repaired it with chewing gum and continued doggedly pursuing his singular vision of getting to Neah Bay for his maiden commercial fishing expedition on the open ocean. 

Eventually making it to his destination, Snell summarized the excursion with a playful understatement: “It was a very eventful trip.” 

Perhaps these many headwinds would’ve deterred someone less determined, or perhaps even Snell himself, but he happily recalls, “The very first time I left the harbor at Neah Bay, and got out into the ocean proper, I took one of my lines, dropped it in the water and I caught a King Salmon.”

Hooked

From that point forward Snell continued commercial fishing part time, during his summer breaks from teaching at the university.

 

Bob’s boat, Icelander, loaded with crab pots. Courtesy of the Snell family

Over time he upgraded boats, equipment and knowledge. He also continued to spend an ever-increasing amount of time on the water and his personal truth, of how he really wanted to spend his life, was becoming undeniable. 

By 1980, Snell’s life was overflowing. He had two children, two jobs and two states he thought of as home — making time to return annually to a family camp in the UP that he helped his father build from materials harvested onsite when he was just 11 years old.  

He was a tenured professor at the University of Puget Sound, with a career total of 20 years as a math professor — having taught at Michigan Tech and the University of Colorado, where he earned his doctorate prior to his transition to the northwest — and, he was ready for a change.

Snell’s boat, the Starwest. Courtesy of the Snell family

He decided to make a life transition. “The University of Puget Sound was a lovely place to teach … I just couldn’t imagine myself doing that for forty years,” he said. “Once I started fishing I was a fishing addict, because that’s what I wanted to do.” 

Once he gave himself over in earnest to his passion, Snell began to broaden his horizons, setting his sights on Alaska and eventually diversifying into crab, tuna, cod and halibut—which brought him to Oregon and California as well.   

His wife Connie was also a teacher with her own summer break from school, and thus was duped into the great Alaska adventure along with their children. 

Connie fishing in Alaska with Snell. Courtesy of the Snell family

By age 9, their son Dan obtained a commercial fishing license and began fishing the entire season in Alaska with his father. He is a commercial fisherman to this day, now fishing with his own grown children. 

“By the time he was 10 years old, Dan could run the boat,” said Snell.

Brochure for Icelander Fish Company. Courtesy of the Snell family

Snell and Connie eventually launched their own fish company. They operated Icelander Fish Company as a direct sale business to restaurants and grocery stores for over a decade, until Snell’s fishing boat was hit by a dragger boat and sunk at sea. Ever nimble, they adapted to change once more.

The family fishing tradition stretches back much farther than living memory. It seems to be written into their DNA. Through family genealogical research, a bill of sale from the 1500s for fish caught in the Baltic Sea and sold to the King of Sweden by his ancestors, was unearthed. A point of pride for Snell.

Connie selling fish dockside for Icelander Fish Co. Courtesy of the Snell family

From rain to snow

Snell and Connie have long been interested in their families’ heritage. All their grandparents had immigrated to the UP from Finland. Individual sets of their grandparents, even had neighboring farms, thus knowing each other before Snell and Connie had ever met. 

Growing up, some grandparents only spoke Finnish and much about their background remained unknown. 

With a desire to learn more about their ancestral home, Snell and his family endeavored to move to Finland for a year. While still a professor, he proposed a professor exchange to a university in Finland, and they agreed. 

During their year abroad the family traveled, visited relatives and immersed themselves in the culture that was native to their ancestors. Snell recounted that his ancestors were from the far northern part of Finland and often traveled by reindeer.

Of the relatives he met, Snell said, “I developed some close connections to the people that were from my dad’s side of the family that lived up above the Arctic Circle.”

The family also embraced cross country skiing while there, with Snell himself competing in a 93-km ski marathon as a novice. “I was probably the last person to finish that race, but they still had the lights on when I came in,” he joked.  

Snell’s mother, who spoke fluent Finnish, joined the family for part of their year abroad. The two even endeavored to translate historical Finnish regional texts to English, something Snell calls “The greatest academic achievement of my life.” 

Years later, the family returned to Finland for a second year, with Connie teaching English as a second language. Their daughter, Jen, was now college-aged and chose to attend the University of Helsinki as a freshman. 

An enduring love

Snell’s willingness to take chances and a deep attunement to what constitutes personal happiness has been a guiding force throughout his life. As has his love of the natural world. 

Snell and son Dan fishing in the Pacific Ocean. Courtesy of the Snell family

His vocation has taken him to the wilds of Alaska, the picturesque California coast, and all places in between. It has been populated by whales and sea lions, an ever-changing cast of sea birds and intertidal marine wildlife, and more sunsets and rises than most people will ever witness in their lifetime. All of this has nurtured a love of nature that was planted long ago, in the remote wilderness of Upper Michigan.

Throughout his career as a commercial fisherman, Snell has always used trolling equipment. This eliminates bycatch and allows undersized fish to be released and given the chance to grow to maturity. 

Snell and son Dan offloading their catch in Newport, OR. Courtesy of the Snell family

He has also long been involved with the North Pacific Fisheries Management Council and the Washington Trollers Association, groups that set regulations to ensure sustainability in fishing.  

Snell retired from his great passion of fishing only a few years ago, in his early 80s. He simply didn’t want to stop doing what he loved to do, and providing King Salmon, what he calls, “the best food in the world,” for people.

Much of his career he fished alone but cited the community of fisherfolks he’s met over the years as paramount, not only to his education and safety on the water, but as a social network while away from home. 

Snell and Connie at their camp in Upper Michigan. Courtesy of Heather Rivérun

These days his fishing consists mostly of catch and release sport fishing during his trips to the family camp in the UP. However, he continues to keep company with the wind and waves that have accompanied him for a lifetime. He wakes early and walks along the water before returning to his home perched atop a bluff overlooking Puget Sound, a place he says, “is heaven to me.”