With the anticipation and excitement of the June fishing openings over and the crew settled into the repetitive routines of setting the net and bringing the fish aboard the boat, the crew smiles when the skipper says, “Last set, make a town pile, bring the skiff aboard, and let’s head for town.
END OF AN OPENING
Opening over,
Salmon unloaded on the tender,
Hold empty, bin boards scrubbed;
Salmon scales, blood scrubbed off the house,
Decks washed,
Skiff chained to the stern.
Larry stands behind the flying bridge,
Pushes the throttle full open,
Headed for town.
In the galley,
Steaks, corn pudding, baked potatoes
Settle in the gut.
Season’s expenses made,
Making a few bucks now,
Make a draw for pocket money.
Glenda Faye rolls across Clarence Strait,
Southwesterly and fair tide
Taking us north toward Pt. McCartney.
Scotch and water in hand,
I climb to the bridge
To take my watch.
Blazing yellow sky from horizon to horizon,
Red sun sinking behind Prince of Whales
I look over the windbreak,
The bow plunges from swell to swell,
The wake pours down the sides
Disappearing in a churning prop wash
Behind the stern.
“Amazing grace how sweet the sound”
Bursts forth from full lungs.
Think of Dad, how he loved to sing,
“My God, How Great Thou Art”
Surely I am blessed on such a night.
A special thanks to Doug Jones for photos used in this post!
To read SALMON SUMMERS, SET OFF ST. JOSEPH’S ISLAND, – click here
Tim:
Your description of the end of fishing season reminded me of purse-seiners and gill nutters in my family. Lovely photos and poetry.
Wonderful! Thank you for writing this and for putting it out there for us to enjoy!