Some of my favorite memories as a child were formed on the banks of Sugar Creek. My parents had grown up playing along the banks of Sugar Creek in Needham Township and I guess taking my siblings and I there for a picnic and fishing seemed natural to them. My dad had taken my three kids fishing several times when they were growing up. Lee, my son who works and lives at a fishing and hunting lodge in SE Alaska, attributes his love of fishing to my father. I hadn't been fishing for years, but on my recent visit to Alaska, all those memories came flooding back. I guess it's sort of like riding a bike. Once you know how, it just stays with you.
I arrived in Alaska five days prior to my daughter and at the end of the trip, we traveled back to Indiana together. The nine days I spent there flew by far too quickly. We were out on the boat every day and each time we were back at the float lodge, I could feel myself anticipating the next day out on the water. The lodge consists of a four bedroom ranch style home. The house sits atop a wooden platform placed on top of large logs that create a huge raft. Most lodgings on the water have more than one raft hooked to each other. The Alaskan Dreams Fishing Camp has several out buildings behind the main house. My son has his own cabin. There is also a tool shop and a processing room that houses a walk in freezer.
Located in an area that is considered a temperate rain forest, it rains often. We had a small rain shower every day I was there, but luckily they were short lived. The rain makes the decks to the floats slick, and as Dave, who lived at the neighboring oyster farm said, sometimes you have to do "the float house shuffle."
This vacation was a learning vacation. My son became our teacher and Katie and I were eager to learn all aspects of life at the lodge and on the water. Each day after breakfast, we would prepare the boat for our first half of the day. Along with the fishing poles and lures, we had bait cages for shrimp, and the bait for long lines and the cages. This was usually salmon heads or parts of other fish. A cooler of beer and water was strategically placed up front near the captain's seat. Along with our rain gear, we brought along emergency equipment as we learned always expect the unexpected. The weather can change quickly so bringing along blankets and a "bug out bag" was important. A bug out bag was a heavy waterproof duffel bag that contained survival items. This bag and the firearms always present in our boat or truck brought an awareness that indeed, we were not in Kansas any longer! From ocean to the shipping box, our Alaska fish camp adventure taught us not only to catch the fish, but to fillet, cut up, clean, bag and vacuum seal the seafood. We were proud of the 200 pounds of seafood we brought home with us and may have gloated a time or two when a guy would inquire what was in our boxes at the hotel or airport.
On day two of my visit, Lee took me out to what he and his GPS declared good holes to fish from. I was instructed on how to drop a line and find bottom. I went to bed that evening wondering if my arm would be usable the next day after jigging the line all day. As luck and determination would have it, the soreness worked it's way out. I wasn't about to miss a day of fishing or wimp out. I was soon nicknamed the armpit fisherman as I discovered the end of the pole buried in my stomach or across an old C-section scar was not comfortable. I might add that Katie and I both gained pole end bruises on our tummy front.
There were many fish that we were told were "trash fish". These got thrown back in. Each catch was exciting and it was disheartening to throw them back into the sea. At one point, I asked if the fish would be okay as it was tossed back into the water, and Lee replied, "yeah, he will probably have a sore lip for a day or two though!" Luckily, not all were thrown back in and my favorite reel in was my yellow eye, or as some call it, a red snapper. Lee heard me reeling something in and yelled back from the helm, "you got something on there, Teena?"
I replied, yes, I think so because the fear of an old shoe at the end of my line kept me from being cocky at this point. My eyes widened with delight as I saw the bright orange fish come to surface as I was familiar with this type of fish. I used the techniques Lee had taught me, reel down, pull up. As he would say, let the pole do the work. That night as we stood at the fillet table, I asked about the age of my fish. Lee calculated it to be about 70 years old according to it's size. This made me feel a little sad. But, only a little bit sad.
My son is used to taking out groups of fisherman out on all day excursions. I was impressed with the patience he had for Katie and I. On the other hand, I think we impressed him a time or two as well. He told us that even though we both tangled our lines and lost our lure once, we learned from our mistake and it did not happen twice. There was one afternoon, Katie and I stood at the back of the boat fishing, and a rain shower came up. As we were without rain gear, Lee yelled back to us and said, " Well, girls, reel 'em in, it doesn't look like this rain is going to let up." Without hesitation and in unpracticed unison, we both replied that we won't melt and we were going to continue to fish. He turned with a smile, popped open the cooler and pulled out a beer saying, "Well, alright then!"
Like I was told the first day out on the boat, "if you ain't fishin, you're wishin"!
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