16 hours of being a passenger. From the west coast to the nor’western boreal. Hanging out with my father and his two other friends. Trolling for salmon. Jigging for mostly halibut. Helping handle 6’7″ of slippery fish. Dry coughing until I got out onto those misty waters. Middle aged men heckling each other. Sea sick father gets named Ralph. You know it’s wet when the local statue is wearing a rain jacket. Sport fishing mono-culture. Knowledgable guide Ben. Having a 50lb halibut on the line, while being taped and having a sea gull get wrapped up in the fishing line behind me. Seeing some of the same mannerisms my father and I share. Waking up at 5am. Hurling insults in jest. Failing at humour mostly. Having a fish jump at my head. Kelp floating by in a big tidal rip. Big swells make you walk like a drunk. Super calm glassy sea. Fog and rain. If it’s sunny in P.R. on the weekend, then we might just have a picnic. A chinook tearing line from your screaming reel. Fish bonker craziness.
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