Fishing

We left the hockey rink in Anchorage after the sun had already set. Two hours later, the slowed car and the sound of gravel woke me to the scattered lights of the docks.
"We decided to sleep on the boat," Chantal told me.
My eyes drooped open and corners of my mouth slowly turned up in drowsy delight.

The next morning, I rolled from my nest of sleeping bags to the upper cabin where Chantal played banana grams and her husband Tom tinkered with the control panel wires. Chantal made cappuccinos as we left Seward's docks. Coffee in hand, we stared speechless at Paul Allen's yacht, Octopus, moored in the middle of Resurrection Bay. I was incapable of imagining what it would be like to vacation on the largest expedition yacht in the world.

All week, nothing but a constant, half-hearted rain. Then, Sunday, fishing, the clouds opened and the sun shot through, warm and soothing. We sat on the deck, fishing, grilling, for 12hrs as the sun bore down on my shoulders and the weight of everything else floated away on the current and the wind.
I didn't catch any salmon but I maxed out on Halibut and caught a Chinese Rock Fish.

This was by far one of my favorite days this summer. It was also the last.

The smallest two are mine.