In the summer of nineteen-fifty-five, my parents waved to me as the New Washington left Ballard, dropped to sea level in the locks and cruised north to Southeast Alaska. The youngest of four Olson boys, I was the last one to begin working life on a salmon fishing boat. I continued making the journey north more often than not over the next thirty-five years. After working as a deckhand, mate, skiff man and deck boss over the years, I finished up cooking and deck handing on a salmon seiner with each of my sons.
It’s often said that once fishing is in the blood, it is with you for life. I would add that it begins with a romantic character tempered by the practical necessities that the occupation dictates and toughened by the sometimes. harsh realities of the life.
SALMON SUMMERS celebrates those years with scenes, stories, and characters from my years on the back deck of a salmon fishing boat.
Tim. Olson
I walk the beach
Smelling seaweed, tasting salt
Southerly winds
Scudding clouds
Bring visions of salmon jumping
Nets bulging to bursting
Holds filled with fish
Boat’s guards under water.
Brisk southerly breezes
Push rippling waves north
To Milbank Sound, Clarence straits.
I stroll the docks in Salmon Bay
Taking in scabby salmon seiners,
Chafing at the dock
On last year’s purse lines,
Waiting for new paint.
I grab cold cable standing rigging,
Jump aboard
Look in the the cabin door,
Stained coffee cups on the table.
I dream of the big set
Salmon spilling onto the deck
I laugh at predictions
For a small season.
In April, sleep comes slowly,
Waiting for opening day.
To read & view previously published SALMON SUMMERS post – click here
