Sockeydelic

The season of finding debris of salmon jaws in my long underwear, swollen fingers, numb palms, and showers of silvery fish scales from my hair is over. Thousands and thousands of pounds caught in the mesh that we hung, passed down from the fresh waters of the Ugashik lakes, down to the muddy mouth and into our nets.
Maggie losing the thermos overboard as we are just about to head in and call it a day. She informs me that I will be going on a slight mission in the tiny raft down the river in the ebbing current with a 6 hp outboard that barely survives to struggle against any current. I must retrieve the slippery thermos. I can say that my skills with skippering using a tiller in the in-decisive-directional raft improved quite a bit while I struggled to run up on the thermos and reach overboard across the boat while still attempting to steer myself in the right direction. Many failed attempts, a few swear words, and about half a mile later I decided to let Maggie have a go at getting her run away thermos.