There, and Back Again

Bilbo’s book – the title so succinct – how much lies in between “There” , and “Back Again”!! 

As I sit in the sunshine on the back deck, safely home again in Montana, the events of summer are already feeling like the aftermath of an intense movie I watched somewhere – profoundly moving, but now safely insulated from present reality.  We made it home.

Everybody we see has asked, “How was it? How’d you do?”  Weirdly enough, we ended the season with a very optimistic outlook.  This year we became indebted to a degree we’ve never been – so many tangible and intangible kindnesses and assistance received – my lesson for the year has been one of humility.  I don’t like to admit I need help of any sort, and over and over again, others have seen our needs and helped in so many ways.  If you read this and can see yourself in any measure being one of those, thank you from the bottom of our hearts.  In fact, just reading this account helps more than you know!!

We put in the new engine, worked thru the accompanying problems, upgraded our rigging, hayrack, and gurdies.  Not a small undertaking by any standards, and poor planning on my part lost us the first month of the king/coho prime time.  That hurt.  Weather seemed to hammer us over and over, cutting fishing time by 30 percent at least.  Fish were smaller, even the biologists were publicly pondering the fact on the radio before we left; the schools were smaller and more scattered.  I heard all these complaints numerous times, from numerous sources as we waited for our plane ride out.  So, financially, the season was a bust.  Can’t wait to do the books… 

The weird part – the optimism?  The boat runs great!  the rigging works fantastically! Gurdies – wow! New places to fish – cool!  New species to target next year – yes!  All these things somehow cancelled out the negatives, and leave us with that farmer-style hope for next year, should that be on our path.  Meanwhile, it’s survival mode in Montana for the winter – anyone need diesels rebuilt, fish cleaned, songs sung, or stories written? Will work for food…!

Time – such a blur.  One day in Hoonah, Lovie was talking about something that would happen, and she asked, “What day is this?”  I told her it was Saturday, and she, very startled, looked at me with wide eyes and with panic in her voice, said “WHAT HAPPENED?”  Somewhere, somehow, Thursday and Friday had slid right off her charts, and she thought it was Wednesday.  Yeah, back to the land of cell coverage, internet, calendars, cars… 

Gotta love it all.  Stay tuned!