ELIZABETH COUNTS DOWN

It's too early to get excited.

We don't leave until the 21st of JULY.

*wonders how I can wait that long*

So I try not to think about it.

But I do.

Dawn in Alaska, salmon fishing with Evan and other good friends. Four to a 25' boat, plus captain and deckhand. ("Bait, please!")

A salmon rod coming suddenly alive, bowed with the force of the fish on the other end of a hundred feet of line. The line going weightless as the coho salmon races to the surface and leaps in a flashing silver arc while I reel in with a frenzy of motion until I catch up to the fish.

Contact!

For a few minutes I walk an unruly 10-18 pound acrobat on the end of a hundred feet of monofilament line. Up, down, sideways, around the boat, over and under other fisherman, until the fish spits the hook (we use single hooks and mooching reels, so freedom is a real option) or I bring it to the net. If we have enough fish for the day, I simply slack the line, the fish shakes off the hook, and vanishes beneath the wind and waves.

But maybe it isn't a coho. Maybe it's a king salmon.

If you've fished enough, you know the difference instantly. At the first touch of restraint, a coho zooms for the surface. A king salmon, for all its size (25 lbs and up, waaay up) mouths the herring daintily. All I feel is a hesitation in the descent of the bait. So I reel gently down to the hesitation, four inches of line for each turn on the reel. If you yank, you'll snatch the bait right out of the fish's mouth.

Not good.

So it's cat and mouse time. Reel down until you feel resistance. Gently, gently reel more, inches at a time, until you feel the unmistakable tug of a king salmon. The game goes from gentle to fierce in seconds. Unlike its smaller cousin, the king salmon doesn't go for the surface. It goes straight to the bottom.

And it sulks, unmoving.

The men who are on the boat reel and tug and haul with all the glorious upper body strength of their gender, until they force the salmon up toward the surface--or miscalculate and jerk the hook free.

I wait, leaning in the opposite direction of the pull, while the rod makes a quivering arc between me and the salmon. (Did I mention we are on the open ocean, with all the wind, waves, and storm squalls to go with it?) When the salmon gives a foot, I reel it in. Two feet, I reel that in.

When you get a big salmon to the surface is when the fun really begins. The fish gets one look at the boat and takes off for Japan. The mooching reel screams as line races out. If you don't get your hand out of the way, you'll learn why mooching reels are called "knuckle busters."

Then the fish sulks.

Again.

I wait, leaning back on my end of the vibrant arc of the rod.

The fish decides to circle the boat. Chinese fire drill time--under, over, around other fisherman on the deck. If you weren't good friends before you negotiate the 2' wide passage around the boat, you are at the end!

The other fisherman probably have their own salmon to fight at the same time. In ocean swells with wind chop and rain foaming all around.

Depending on the size of the fish, or the size of the fight in that fish, we play the off-to-Japan game three or four times before the fish gets free or comes to the net. By then I'm panting, arm-weary, and grinning like an idiot.

It is glorious.

Not everyone's cuppa, but it sure is mine.

And then we get to eat the most wonderful food on earth--fresh salmon! We marinate a filet for half an hour in fresh lemon juice, herbs from the garden, and olive oil. Then Evan grills it flesh side down for just over half the cooking time (varies with thickness of filet). When the filet lifts freely from the barby, we finish it on the skin side. We like our salmon just on the hot side of sushi. *drools*

(Note: the first picture was swiped from the website of Angling Unlimited, the wonderful outfit we've fished with for ten years. The people in the photo are strangers, but the boat is exactly like the one we fish on. The other three photos are of yours truly with a king salmon. The pics we had from the stormy, wave-tossed days looked like yellow/blue/green slickers in rain, shot on the diagonal, horizon all over the place...which was the way it was.)


WHAT DO YOU HAVE THAT YOU'RE LOOKING FORWARD TO, CAN'T WAIT, LIKE A KID MARKING OFF THE DAYS TO CHRISTMAS?