going to the source

For quite some time, I've had the bug up my skirt to be a bigger part of where I get my food. I dream of annually harvesting buckets of berries, canning tomatoes, pickling beans, going to the farm and buying chickens for the deep freeze. Although my plans are always overly optimistic (my stock-in-trade), I am aiming in the direction of this kind of connectedness to my food. One of the sub-plots in this effort was a multi-year attempt to get someone to take me fishing for salmon. It sounds easier than it was, and eventually involved a barter of landscape planning services with a retired engineer, and over a year of patience. Finally, last month, I got to go effin' fishing. The trip entailed a five a.m. arrival and a long drive to the coast with three retired dudes in a BIG m.f. of a truck. We hauled a BIG boat with a BIG motor (oh, the petroleum!), and put in near Warrenton. Then, we just trawled all day up and down under the Astoria bridge, back and forth, back and forth (did I mention the petroleum?). Finally, we caught a few.

This is a coho. What a beaut. Do I look stoked or what?
I actually caught a chinook too, but had to put it back for safe keeping.

Then, later, I ate it. With garlic and olive oil, S&P.

In the end, I had a ball, but it sure did seem like a lot of effort and resources for a little ol' fish.
I think next time, I'll just head over to the locks and buy my salmon from a native dude.

Unless someone else asks me to go fishing again.

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