August 2, 2011
Five-thirty Am
A rose hued sunrise gives brilliant contrast to the fading grey dawn
Exhaust fumes and cool, damp salt air
The low rumble of a warming boat engine venting through water
Ripe bait in the crab traps
A morning breeze lifts waves to slap the bow, it’s cold for August when you’re moving
On the leeward side the breeze fades and the water is flat again
The downrigger carries the lure and the bait to the right depth
Fish on
The flash of scales over deep water
A brief struggle and a twelve pound salmon is in the net
Photos are taken and backs patted
And so goes the morning until we are near our limit
The water is now almost mirror like and the sun is hot from the clear blue sky
Morning layers of clothing are peeled away to sun bathing gear and still the fish are coming
A grey whale circles the boat at a respectful distance, seemingly oblivious to our presence
We watch in awe as it breaches with a sound seeming like a depth charge
The Halibut aren’t feeding this afternoon, but the warm sun makes for contented fishermen anyway
The crab traps are hard to haul up, filling us with anticipation for what they contain
A talented young man with a knife reduces our catch to filets in minutes worthy of the shelves of any fish market
While our crab are introduced to a steaming pot behind the fish and chip stand we devour fresh halibut and chips in front
Bright red, silver backed filets packed on shaved ice
Prince Rupert BC.
(Tim Smith)