Right now, trying to sum up the big ideas swirling around in my head since moving to Alaska seems impossible. I’m still just taking everything in — accepting the amazing opportunities that come my way and putting off processing it all until later.
So I won’t meditate on my anxieties about whether or not my reporting is serving our listeners well. And I won’t wax on about the ethics of volunteering. At least, not yet. Because anything I write now won’t do justice to the larger issues I’m only starting to wrap my mind around.
Instead, I think I’ll just share a recent adventure.
It’s summertime, and everyone is fishing. At the station, we take frequent fish reports from the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. On Tuesdays, we cover the weekly teleconferences between Yukon fishermen and managers. And sometimes, when people are feeling generous with their time and patience, we volunteers are invited to go fishing ourselves.
Yesterday, our friend Rosa was feeling generous. So Emily and I jumped at the chance to help her set a net in the Nome River.
The weather was gorgeous — in a way that pictures don’t show, so I didn’t even try. The sun shone off the water and storm clouds rolled in the distance. Beyond the bridge, looking back into town, we could see the rare rain slanting down over Nome. And as we waded out to where the water splits into two channels, we could hear salmon jump out of river and then splash back down.
Against this absurdly idyllic backdrop, Rosa taught us how to mend holes in the net by looping fishing line through the still-intact mesh and then knotting it around the ripped sections to close them. The three of us sat on the tundra, mending and chatting, until the net was deemed good enough to snag some salmon.
Rosa then rafted out with the anchor as Emily and I fed her the net, thunder rumbling behind us with the sun still overhead. Once it was set, Rosa showed us how to scare fish into the net by taking the raft downriver and slapping the water with the side of the paddle. On my turn, after a minute of gracelessly smacking the surface, we could see a chum swim into the net, sinking the buoys and splashing. It was nothing special or skilled, but it was satisfying in a way that I can’t really describe.
While Emily tackled untangling the fish from the net, the wind started to pick up like it does in movies. The water became rough, and the dark clouds broke open, pelting us with rain as we made our way back to the shore. When we looked back, a rainbow had appeared against the dark gray sky.
Eventually, the wind blew the raft away, and Emily sprinted after it with the salmon in one hand. My first wild reaction was to think that Emily will make a great fellow news reporter, being able to do both under duress. My second reaction was to laugh and follow, chasing clumsily in too-big waders.
Getting to the car felt like a triumph, as did finally filleting the fish back at Rosa’s house. Our fillets weren’t perfect, but they’re now wrapped and ready for our freezer. And when we go back to check the net again tonight, there will hopefully be more salmon — another chance to improve my filleting, to thank Rosa, and to just take it all in.
