As the salmon prepare to run upstream en masse, I have been preparing to leave for False Pass, AK. For the past week or so my crew and I have been lacing and lashing, seizing and sewing together a seine (see pictures). Let’s hope we’re smarter than the fish (sometimes I do wonder).
Due to the demands of work, and the lack of internet availability out there, I wanted to announce that I will be taking a hiatus from blogging.
More importantly, I wanted to thank everyone who has read and commented on my posts. It does not go unnoticed.
See you in the Fall.
P.S. Beware of frankenfish (farmed salmon). Eat wild Alaskan salmon. It’s better for you!
The End of the Road
You must have taken Highway 1 from the junction
at British Columbia and the Yukon, the Takhini
hot springs at Whitehorse—you must have been reborn
through a tunnel in the Rockies and turned left at Tok,
where a waitress in a plaid apron, tasseled mukluks
and beaver furs poured syrup thick as tree sap
over sourdough pancakes, and you eavesdropped
on two bush pilots, heard the forecast in their dispute:
cross-winds of tenacity with a spat of rain—
then down through Anchorage, Alyeska, Anchor Point,
shoulder to shoulder with a mountainous dawn,
until, round the overlook, you saw the arch of the Spit
cast out like a rod toward Halibut Cove, and the blue crush
of the Grewingk Glacier into Kachemak Bay.
by Ryan Dowling