'But Whackers

We are encroaching upon the end of the summer and with each passing day, keeping the goodbyes at bay is like controlling the weather patterns here in Alaska.  So I'm going to allow procrastination to seize the best of me for the next wee bit and first share about my newest friend.  Plus, this week, we don't have any campers and I shall have plenty of time to mope about this past weekend's goodbyes, thus giving you an emotionally captivating blog post later this week.

Meet Sundy.  She lives in Homer.  She's a lively little thang and lives a rather fruitful life out on the sea.  We first met on Friday morning around 5:30 A.M.  Still as the glass water below her bow, she waited patiently for our rubber boots to meet her deck, and then quietly stole us away into the sunrise.

From Homer to Seldovia, Sundy cruised atop the white capped waves with one mission: Carry our crew to the abundant Halibut hole.  Excitement grew with each passing kilometer, and as we soared past volcanoes and peaks, the sun continued to climb higher and higher into the sky.  Like any of you who remember meeting your childhood bosom friend and going to their house for the very first time, I was about to visit the very neighborhood and home of my favorite food.  Which, essentially, could be equated with the same amount of glee.  Right? :)

Loaded with cod heads, rods were locked into eager hands, ready to release the line and plunge into the depths of the Cook Inlet.  Slamming 'buts was imminent as the fish circus began!

We caught Skates - a many of them.  Grandma included.  The first time I caught a Skate, I was actually quite excited because I had never seen one before, and they are just fascinating in their looks (as you can see).  However, by the third Skate, I was absolutely over them.  They were no longer fascinating to me, just annoying sons of guns.  The amount of time and strength it took (okay, probably because I am a girl) to reel anything up 150 feet to surface quickly becomes exhausting.  And these Skates were just becoming an absolute waste of strength.  I've never wanted to be a "switch - fisher" so bad in order to give my right arm a break.  It was like taking a six hour Body Pump class and only focusing on one half of a muscle group, the entire time.

But as the 'buts started biting, weights and lines were breaking the crest of the water and just below the surface, with only a few seconds of arm cranking left, pearl glowing halibut bellies filled the waters outside of the boat.  "Fish On!" "Fish On!" was being yelled across the deck as the deckhands darted back and forth collecting our prizes.  But no prize was officially tossed into the cooler without the question of, "Keep or toss?"  I'm sorry, what?  Absolutely going to keep this baby, thank you.  What a silly question, I thought.  Well too soon did I realize that it was the most significant question of the day.  Keeping it meant that you were halfway to your limit (as the current limit is 2 'buts per person).  Tossing it meant that you were confident of your ability to sling not only more, but you were risking this one for an even bigger one.  Now, as a newbie, there is something very special about catching your very first halibut - kind - of like that first love note from your crush in third grade, and then there was something very discouraging about the idea of tossing it back - despite its weight in pounds.  Nevertheless, it was time to go big or go home.  I was going to wait for the best.  (Insert another parallel of sacrificing the crush in third grade and waiting for prince charming here).  I said goodbye and tossed the fella back into the sea.  One tear was shed.  But my heart soon began to heal and grow with anticipation as I awaited and was hopeful to meet his big brother.  After releasing four more of his twin brothers back into the sea, I finally met his big brother.  Worth the wait (despite the newest addiction I found myself with in wanting to all of a sudden throw them all back and fish harder and longer and more strategic for the size that I just knew was out there).

'Buts were hitting the deck left and right.  Have I mentioned how much I love the word play on Halibut yet?  "For the Hal - i - But," "Halibut you just stay awhile?"  Though, we seem to find a way to do that with any and all animal names up here, "I caribou you," "I'm eagle to see you soon," etc.  Okay, back on track, Chelsey, back on track.

Anyway, when all was said and done, everyone had proudly caught their limit and we were headed home with 32 'buts in the cooler.  As I said, success was imminent, and so was a processing party.  (The last thing you really want to do post chartering all day).  I wish I could say that this picture was staged, however it was not and serves as the perfect visual for how we truly felt.  Unlike Joy and I, others actually made it to their rooms.

Unexpected realization of the day (and/or maybe my life): I found my new favorite hobby and believe that this song was written about me, cause baby, I loooooooove to fiiiiiiiish!