Sunny and calm, the day beckons us to fish. We set out early, anxious to put the net in the water, dreaming of a freezer full of sockeye fillets and a pantry stocked with canned salmon. Our children spot seals and puffins as we make the 30 minute transit to the same cove we return to each year.
Every now and then, we pass another skiff, on a similar journey. As eagles soar overhead, we see our familiar beach. It’s time to cut the engine, toss over the anchor, the buoy, then the net. Cork line and lead line hold the web safely in between, forming the gill net. My parents, my siblings, us, our children, all deliver the lines to the sea. Working together, generations of my family unite to harvest our subsistence supply of salmon. This is how it has always been.