fishing for fish

In the end, the money worked out about the same. Fred Meyer was selling whole Copper River reds for $3.99 a pound Thursday afternoon when we left for the Copper River, the truck loaded with empty coolers, long-handled dipnets, sleeping bags, a hand truck, and enough cheese, chocolate and salami for a few days. We made it back Saturday night with about 40 pounds of fish -- 30 pounds headed and gutted -- and spent about 90 bucks on gas and another 30 on miscellaneous stuff, for a total of about $120, or $4 a pound.
That wasn't how it was supposed to be. The limit is 15 fish per person, but somehow we ended up in Chitina during a lull and netted only eight fish between the two of us. The day they were running strong, I had to work. We both caught kings, which would have more than doubled our take (and given us the most highly-coveted, oily salmon species), but the Alaska Department of Fish and Game isn't letting dipnetters keep kings this year. Runs have apparently been bad around the state. I respect the idea of conservative management, but there certainly seems to be a lot of politics around who gets to keep the fish that are taken.
In the end, the time, work, and effort we put into fishing seemed large for a sinkful of salmon. On Friday, we spent 17 hours hiking in, scrambling down rocks to the river, and standing with a net in the silty, roiling glacial water waiting for the tap of a fish hitting the net. The idea of driving 320 miles one-way to gather our own food seemed like an odd twist to the idea of eating local.
But time and money are poor measures for the experience itself -- for learning again how to do it, for getting up early and pushing the body as hard as it will go, for truly knowing where your food comes from and how it got to your plate. We cleaned the fish in my cabin Saturday night and broiled a fillet around midnight. Oily, mild, and good enough to eat the skin.