Fishing

Plunk. Swoosh. Thwat.

Over and over and over and over and over and over.

Those were the sounds I heard around me.

For hours.

In the Kenai river.

During one of the worst salmon runs in over 20 years.

Combat fishing for a couple days. I wasn’t very combative. And neither was anyone else. In the entire state of Alaska.

Three fish in two days. And thank the lord my son caught one of them or I would have had a really sad little boy on my hands. I watched him in true mama bear form wade into the rushing waters. Waist deep. Holding my breath, hoping the glacier cold water wouldn’t go over his waders. (I left my camera behind for this part.) But it didn’t and he fished with the big boys. Surrounded by strangers. Trying to catch the same fish.

It’s the luck of the draw. Sometimes the fishing is hot. Sometimes the fishing is not.

But….. the marshmallows were perfectly roasted at the end of the night. And the S’mores were delicious.  As was the fresh Salmon covered in mango chutney. And at least the grizzly stayed away long enough for me relax a bit after a long couple days of fishing,
long enough to enjoy the color of the Kenai lake. A color of blue I can’t even describe. And cold enough not to touch with my bare feet.

It was a fast and furious trip north. I took very few photos. I fished a lot. The whiskey kept me warm. I rested in the evenings. Got to watch a movie with my family. Eat popcorn. Especially made only by my brother. I got to learn about planets and states and countries. Talk about primary whales during bath time. Read about poop. I breathed in and out as slow as I could. Reminded myself to do so. As often as I could. Because it’s hard not to in the cool Alaskan air.

Thank you big brother and family for having us.

We’ll be back soon. 

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