Not with a Bang,…

And so, just like that – we are done for the coho season.

Late last week, while mulling over the low fish numbers and weather, it all came together – it’s time for us to go!  A combination of factors, both at home and on the fishing scene, suddenly all added up to tip us over the brink.  With only a week and a half to go till the closure, we forfeited some income, but probably not enough to make us wealthy.  Steve’s boat was terminally broken down at the time, effectively ending his season, so we leased ours to him for the balance of days so he could continue to fish.  The harbor department in Sitka called and told us our temporary slip was now out on the transient dock, which is not the best place to winter a boat.  As of now, the boat may winter in its’ old home, Elfin Cove, unless something more substantial turns up.  Not my favorite choice, but one of the only available.  It will make for difficulties in remodeling and working on the boat this winter should I choose to do so, but perhaps I can get it to better accommodations by spring. 

We made our plans one day, caught our last fish for our winter freezer stock, filleted them till midnight, vacuum packed them at Patti’s early the next morning, and were on the float plane to Juneau by 5pm.  Culture shock awaited with the bustle of Juneau, but we coped with running water, flush toilets, and an anchored-down big bed as best we could.  The ferry to Sitka left Sunday evening, and we spent the night in one of the staterooms, arriving at 4am in Sitka.  After a flurry of last-minute business and fish-box shuffling, we got the plane to Kalispell, and arrived home by midnight.  Now THAT’s culture shock!  Wide open spaces, dry air, lots more people, unfortunately…!  Now, catching up on all the loose ends that a season away brings – with it the depression of needing to find some form of income to carry us through till springtime.  I really don’t want to go sit in an office, dealing with petty problems for people who have no clue about what the real cutting edge of life really is.  Lotto tickets? may be the only answer!  I have few real problems that a half a million dollars wouldn’t make easier!

Our last day in the Cove was beautiful – warm (68!) and sunny.  We were of mixed emotions as we brought our stuff down to the front dock to await the float plane, but knew we were doing what needed to be done.  I will never forget the little group of folks that took time to come and wish us well as we left.  Two and a half months earlier we knew only one of them; now, a whole group of good friends. 

Quite a group.  Fashion is not an issue in this bunch.  Degrees, family names, cars; all those things that much of the country measures ability, status and success by – not an issue here.  Knowing how to fix just about anything with just about nothing, knowing how to read the weather, tides, currents – real mastery.  You could easily cast a pirate movie from the characters, just based on first impressions.  Dig a little deeper, and you find real gold.

I mean that, folks – thank you for making our first year not be the disaster it could have been! 

What have I learned this year?

• The ocean is big, powerful, scary, beautiful, bountiful, alluring, and I love it.
• I can get really, really scared.  I’m not the only one; most of the guys I met readily admit it.  But it really doesn’t have to paralyze me.
• Life is very very fragile; we have so little real power.  Treat every moment as a great gift.
• I can do this fishing thing – I started with basically no clue about trolling, underestimated my experience level on the sea, and all that – We survived this season at least, and actually didn’t go too far backwards on the income when all was said and done.  Next year!
• There are some really, really fine people around.  
• Dolands, Dennisons, Denherders, and other friends at Sitka; Nelsons at Petersburg – I love you folks.  You helped keep me going when things looked the bleakest.  I am forever indebted to you, and value your friendship.  You showed me what true hospitality, care, and support is all about.  I can only aspire to such a grand level in my dealings with others.
• Steve – Point Amelia,
• Kirk-Yager,
• Scotty-Myrth,
• John-Midnight Sun,
• Don & Patty-Umatilla,
• Todd-Admiral,
• John-Mug-C,
• Troy-Bonnie Jean,
• Connley-J-Jireh,
• Dan and Judy-St. Jude

– you all took me from borderline crazy to being a real fisherman.  Words are inadequate to describe you and what you mean to me.  Thanks for counting me among your ranks – I’m proud to have spent a season with you all.

• My wife – what can I say? Best cook, fish cleaner, boat driver, and and finest lady I’ve ever known.  Love you forever.

 

I can’t wait till next season!  I have so many things to do before it starts – I need desperately to come up with enough money to get things in order for a great next season.  I am so optimistic about how things could be if I only could get the boat to the state of preparedness it needs to be in.  The state where I could completely trust its ability to function all season without leaving us stranded in the middle of some seething, forsaken corner of the sea.  Guess my winter work is cut out for me, finding the source! 

If there’s any interest, I would be glad to show slides, tell stories, sing songs, and so forth – this kind of experience just can’t be shut in the corner of ones mind, but begs the telling.   Thanks for listening to my ramblings this year.

Fish On!