"Reel" Food

I just returned late last night from a four day fishing trip in Alaska.  This is an annual trip that my brother treats our family to, a rugged Deadliest Catch kind of bonding. After 13 years of making this trip, and at the end of each one swearing I will never do it again, I find myself packing up my dramamine, wool beanie and thermal underwear for the next annual adventure.

I’m not sure what it is about this trip.  It’s definitely not the getting up at 4:30 am, being out in a boat on the ocean in windy and rainy conditions, or being so exhausted at the end of the trip that I need a couple more days just to recover.  But when it is over there is a feeling of accomplishment, the slaying of the dragon, and our bond becomes a little tighter with each war (fish) story we share and the many laughs that accompany them.

A surprisingly and wonderful sunny, calm moment ~  

These trips are about much more than fishing. They are what we call primary food.  Primary food is the way we feed our souls, the way we feed our relationships, our careers, our joy, our need for connection.  And speaking of connection, it is so obvious to me when I am on this trip, away from my computer, my cellphone, emails and Facebook, that this is what true connection means.  Face to face, together in the trenches.  Those trenches can be true "down in the dirt" or shopping together in the designer jean aisle at Neiman Marcus.  Doesn’t matter.  The fact is we are together, in the flesh, sharing our time, sharing the experience.

For me, one of the hardest parts of coming back home after those four beautifully challenging days is that I have to turn the computer back on.  Panning through the numerous emails to find that my delete button is showing it's wear and that the only messages that really matter are a mere handful. Looking through all the Facebook posts that have accumulated during my downtime, only to find that, truthfully, I could have lived the rest of my life without knowing the majority of what is going on in the lives of most of these people.

Social media and all the rest is a part of the way we live now and it is not going away. And, I am very aware of the advantages, especially when it comes to business.  But it is extremely important to remember that when it comes to true relationships and friendships, social media should be treated more like a garnish.  The real meal by which we are nourished comes from relationships that are shared and nurtured when we are together. We are filled up when we share real experiences, a good belly laugh, stories, and conversation.

It is important to feed your relationships, your friendships, with true connection. If you can give your time, give it ~ in the form of a visit, an outing or a phone call. And while you might “like” their photos and status updates on Facebook, make sure you are giving them the true attention they deserve.  Hearing someone you care about laugh can go a whole lot further than an emoticon when it comes to lifting our spirit and healing our soul.

"The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea" – Isak Dinesen

Fly like an eagle

In a little over a month from now our "team" will be back on the rough waters off Alaska, fishing for the 11th or 12th year (I can't remember for sure) for those beautiful King, Coho and if necessary, occasional Pink salmon. Every year as I fill out the required papers and my fishing license application, literally signing my life away, I always have second thoughts before I sign my name to the release of liability form. There is one paragraph in particular that makes me swallow hard, and causes me to reconsider if the salmon, halibut, bear, eagles and whale sightings would be worth my life. Here is how that paragraph reads:

Trip Activities & Risks: As part of your Trip you will travel by small plane to and from the resort. You will use steep ramps, cross what are often wet slippery docks; load and unload yourself and gear onto and from small planes and boats; fish in what can be rough water; and come within close proximity to wild animals. You may also choose to hike on the trails near the resort. These activities and those not specifically stated entail risks including, but not limited to: slipping and falling; water hazards; drowning; exhaustion; hypothermia; prolonged exposure to cold water; boating and/or navigational hazards; cold, heat, sun, snow, rain, fog and wind; guide misjudgment; negative reaction from air or waterborne bacteria or virus. In the event of an accident, there could be prolonged delay in obtaining medical assistance. Due to the remote areas in which the resort operates, evacuation to medical facilities could take 24 hours or longer. We could also experience communication failures and breakdowns or faulty equipment. Please understand that the description of activities and risks is not intended to be a complete listing of all possible activities and risks, and we ask you to acknowledge that the Trip may include other risks that could result in property loss or damage, physical or emotional injury, or death.

Death? Did they say death? I know they legally have to cover their ass, so listed are the remotest of possibilities. But if you are a somewhat paranoid like me, you must admit, they are possibilities! Yes, yes, I know that driving my car is much more dangerous or drinking the local tap water, but still, when you see it in writing it just does a little number to your nervous system.

But still, there is something about being out there, on that open ocean that makes you want to come back for more, risk it year after year.  It is truly a cleansing experience, a baptism of sorts. So, with only a moment's hesitation, I take a deep breath, exhale and grab my pen.

Alright, Eleanor!

I understand the premise behind this. I guess after the big scare you get a rush of adrenaline, a feeling of accomplishment, and an "I did it" to add to your experience belt. A feeling of being alive. Because there is nothing that can make you feel more alive than coming close to death, or at least thinking you were coming close to death. The lure of the amusement park roller coaster.

But I don't like being scared. I have never been a fan of horror movies. I was always afraid of the dark, always thought something was under my bed (probably stems from watching horror movies!) and I have fancied safety in my life. Yes, I have been following Downton Abbey, if you're wondering about the Englishy way of speaking. 

The scariest thing that I do would have to be my annual fishing trip to Alaska and the occasional visit to a Walmart when I am forced by a friend to accompany him to purchase some jeans or soap, or some other item that you just find elsewhere at a better price.

For the past 10 years, I have gone on a fishing trip to Alaska. We sign waivers, signing away our right to sue if anything should happen. Like dying. Yes, dying. There are scary things involved.  Float planes, bears, fishhooks, massive halibut that can pull you overboard, and having to pee in a bucket. But you come home with a year's worth of salmon and a lifetime worth of stories.

So, I guess what might even be scarier than signing that waiver, would be staying home, playing it safe, and reading or watching about other people's adventures. I've always admired the brave and brilliant Eleanor Roosevelt, and I'm not about to question her now.

The Legendary Waterfall Sisters

The first time my brother invited me and my sister as his guests to go salmon fishing in Alaska, I thought, "Well, this is a once in a lifetime experience, we have to go."  Even though the thought of fishing wasn't really that appealing to me.  It was more of a challenge, a true test of my endurance and a chance to improve upon my not so good reputation as being somewhat spoiled, rather lazy, and perhaps "the weakest link."  I have always been thought of as rather prissy, and I'm not even sure how I got that reputation, but sure as the day is long, I have it.  Maybe it has something to do with this type of thinking; I envisioned a few hours of fishing, a few more hours of lounging on some spectacular ocean view deck with perhaps a Carrie Bradshaw type cocktail, reading my long overdue stack of books that I would bring with me. I imagined drinking my perfectly creamed coffee while seated leisurely outside, shielding my eyes from the warm morning sun, excitedly spotting a whale or two and then perhaps taking a nice hot soak in the tub at night and getting the best sleep of my life, here in Alaska, silent, dark, peaceful.

Coming in to Waterfall by float plane

The cabins where we try to sleep and attempt a good shower

But upon landing on the island we were out fishing within one hour, hello reality.  No time to freshen up, no going to our room first.  We have been on three different planes in the past 6 hours and now we are immediately shuffled off to get fitted for our boots and slickers, leaving bags and purses behind.  This was the first clue that we were amongst some serious sportsmen, a kind of rich man's boot camp.  Up at 4:00 a.m., breakfast at 5:00, on the boat by 5:30 a.m. and not back on land until 4:30 or 5:00 each afternoon. And mind you, this is rain or shine.  When the weather is good there isn't anyplace on earth you'd rather be, but when it rains and the wind blows you are a frozen extension of your fishing pole, your insides shaking, your feet feel like two giant ice cubes, your hands are constantly wet and chapped, and King Salmon or no King Salmon, all you can think about is getting to dry land.  Ah, summer in Alaska.

5 people standing on this boat - ALL DAY

Early misty morning

By the time you do get back to the lodge and off the boat, you are exhausted, dragging yourself in your oversized rain boots back to your cabin to a well-deserved hot shower.  The shower stall is small and comes with an affixed warning sign - "Do not close your eyes while showering" - this is due to the fact that you now have newly acquired sea legs and heaven forbid, you could become disoriented and dizzy, possibly falling, killing yourself, and this is only one of the many ways you can die while fishing in Alaska.

There are numerous other ways, which are listed on the liability release form you sign before coming to Alaska, and I seem to recall one of the other ways being mentioned are the "harmless" bears that loiter outside by the nearby dump.  Okay, so this is where that "prissy" accusation comes in, but I can't help it.  Nature can be a very scary thing.  And speaking of wildlife and my avoidance of such by design, my sister on the other hand just can't get quite close enough.  She is thrilled at the thought of being able to photograph the bears (see below), while I hide nearby, watching her from a safe distance, and frequently hissing, "get back here, hurry, you've got the picture already, get back here!

The bears at the nearby dump

After each day of fishing there is a beautiful buffet at the lodge upon your return, this is true.  And you eat like there is no tomorrow, both because you have worked up an impressive appetite being out on the ocean all day, and also because you know that once back on the boat in the morning you will provided only PB&J sandwiches, chips, M&M's and cookies.  You will have consumed much of that before 9:00 am, which you won't even believe that it is only 9:00 a.m. because it feels like you've been out on the ocean for hours, and in fact you have been.

On the boat you find yourself praying for good weather and a very strong bladder.  The boat is a 25' cabin cruiser with no bathroom facilities.  What?  Yes, you heard me right, on a boat for 10 hours and no bathroom facilities, which by Tim Allen "Man" standards, doesn't seem to be much of a problem, but for us females it can be a rude awakening, a lesson in balance, discretion and control.  Trying to go to the bathroom while standing in the tiny cabin of the rocking boat, keeping your balance between swells and anchoring yourself between seats over a bucket, hoping nobody is looking.  Luckily, there is usually one other female on board to guard the door.  To add to the humiliation, when finished you have to come out on deck, dump and rinse your bucket over the side while luckily it seems that everyone else is in their own little world, totally engrossed in their pursuit of the elusive King Salmon.

Starting the day all smiles

After a long day, bedtime comes and as you lie down you are swaying gently to the waves that only exist in your mind. What should rock you to sleep actually makes you a bit nauseous so sleep is hard to come by.  The room is too light, the sun in Alaska in the summer stays around for quite awhile and on your mind is the fact that you have to get up very early and now you fear insomnia may be setting in.  You basically know that when morning comes you are going to feel like dirt and you may as well just make peace with it, because it is bound to happen, nothing more you can do about it except look forward to that first morning cup of strong coffee.

The first few years I remember my sister and myself both packing lightly by "carry on" standards,  but still managing to fit in a few cute sweaters, a couple pair of jeans, a couple of pair of shoes, a curling iron, hair straightener, and makeup. It took several years to realize that one big warm sweatshirt would work for every evening after fishing.  That yoga pants work much better under your slickers, and also eliminate the whole zipper/button problem while using the bucket.  Makeup?  How about some sunscreen and chap stick.  After all these years, we are just starting to get it down.  An extra set of warm gloves, beanie, thick socks, and daily doses of Dramamine. 

The Legendary Waterfall Sisters

We are now scheduled to go this summer on our 9th fishing trip to Alaska.  I again made the guest list as did my die-hard partner and sister, Pam.  Besides the two of us providing the group with some well needed humor, we always manage to bring in our share of the fish. Now Pam has always had more of a reputation for being athletic, a real trouper, never giving up, always being one of the first chosen when picking sides for the team.  She is feminine but strong, and because of her I have had to try harder. Like Avis.

So who would've known that after that first fishing trip, when we all arrived home with a year's supply of salmon and halibut, that we would be invited back year after year?  It has become something much more grand than a fishing trip or a once in a lifetime experience.  It has become a family tradition.  One that even as exhausting as it can be, and sometimes I swear I will never do it again, once we are back home for a month or so, we start planning how we can pack smarter, stay warmer, and if next time we should bring saltines or Frito's  Having the opportunity to spend those few quality days once a year with family provides more than fish to fill our freezers, it gives us laughter, humorous stories, warm memories and a way of connecting that is truly precious and will always be one of the best times of our lives.  I think I can speak for all of us on that.

Me, Michael, Kess (Dad) & Pam

With each year the guest list changes a bit, mixing it up between friends and family.  Certain years we have been accompanied by husbands, partners, uncles, brother-in-laws, and sisters, but the permanent fixtures have been our brother, our niece, our Dad, and of course me and Pam, The Legendary Waterfall Sisters.  We are the rocks. And we are really bad ass anglers at that.

Pam and her King Salmon

Eagles, Salmon and Bears, Oh My!

Here I am in Alaska - away from the rest of the world (with the exception of a hundred or so other fisherman escaping the rest of the world) only to be introduced to the owner of a food cart lot in Portland – again – coffee again – my heart starts pounding harder again - a business plan begins to emerge.  But wait – I just accepted a position at one of the areas finest art galleries – opportunity, commissions, decent paycheck - the bittersweet singsong of responsibility pounds in my head. Quit daydreaming - shake it off -commit yourself to something!  But what a coincidence!  Just when I am ready to put the coffee pot on the back burner, I meet this person who is opening a new lot of food carts in Portland and would love to see me have a coffee cart there.  I hop on the float plane with visions of lattes, french press coffee and orange cream cheese muffins like a Mitch Miller singalong bouncing along in my mind.

Now back home, getting ready to go into the gallery and I am pressing my nice black pants, putting on my heels, bracelet, earrings, trying to look a bit sophisticated after returning home from a very unsophisticated few days on the Alaskan ocean – where the only thing I was putting on in the morning was chap stick, a beanie and my slickers.  Spending 10 hours a day on a fishing boat where I am peeing in a bucket, wiping blood off my rain boots, eating PBJ sandwiches on WHITE BREAD – now to be home with the luxury of a modern bathroom, dry clothes that smell of Bounce instead of dead fish, and a full refrigerator of food -quite a transition. Not a bad transition but just one where it feels that the real me is a person somewhere in between. Coffee house – food cart – art galleries – angler - Queen of Sheba – who knows.

Owning your own business is more work, this I know, more stress but also more freedom. Even if I were to work 80 hours a week as opposed to say, the normal 40 most people put in at a full time job – to me, it is still more freedom when you find your souls work.  I have had people ask me, "Do you really want to own a coffee house or do you just love being in a coffee house?" - Good question.  I think both. But what do I know?  I can't truthfully say for sure.

Being away from civilization as we know it for a few days can make you look at life a lot differently. You get a sense of how simplistic it really should be and how complicated we have made it. In nature it seems that everyone and everything knows their place, they know where they need to be, what they need to do.  Even though their living conditions and means of finding food, shelter and basic survival is much more difficult than ours, it is nonetheless a simple existence.  To know where you belong, to be at peace with your place in life.  If only it could be that clear and simple for us.  Maybe if we spent more time in and with nature we would know ours too.

  One place I know I should be - spending time, laughs, hugs, shoulder and knee pains with family. . priceless.

Salmon with Maple Thyme Glaze

Ingredients

1/2 C. country-style Dijon mustard
4 1/2 Tbs. pure maple syrup
3 1/2 Tbs. water
2 Tbs. prepared horseradish
6 (8 oz.) salmon fillets
1 1/2 Tbs. golden brown sugar, packed
1 1/2 Tbs. fresh thyme, chopped

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 F. Whisk mustard 3 Tbs. maple syrup, 3 1/2 Tbs. water and horseradish in small bowl to blend. Arrange salmon on baking sheet. Whisk 1 1/2 Tbs. maple syrup, sugar, and thyme in another small bowl to blend. Spread thyme mixture evenly over salmon. Bake until salmon is just opaque in center, about 20 minutes. Transfer salmon to plates. Spoon mustard-horseradish sauce over and serve.

(Alaskan photography courtesy of Pamela Espinosa)