Long after losing service or keeping track of how many days we have been working. The coffee is on, it’s usually between 4:30 and 5:30 in the morning (depending on how the captain is feeling) and the pot of camping coffee being made on the diesel stove inside the wheelhouse is wafting out onto the deck.
Sitting there and watching the first hints of sunrise shed light on the most beautiful corners of this province (I would argue the most beautiful places on earth) is where I have seen true grace. There is no mystery in the day that lies ahead, just a job that needs to be done, fish that we will catch and receive a pay cheque for, a dinner that will be filling and then another night of rest before doing it all again the next day. Cell phones and the bustle become more like remembering a bizarre dream and being present is the reality in all aspects of the day, as it is hard, long and potentially dangerous, so being present is the only option, really. Maybe it’s because of these realities of being out fishing that makes that first cup of coffee smell and taste better than anything I have ever experienced anywhere in the world.
2 Comments
Shirley
2/22/2021 08:27:05 am
Thank you for sharing your stories. It feels good to know something of the people who provide us with the delicious fish. The lives of people who engage in commercial fishing are integral to the Canadian identity. I envy your relationship with nature and your bravery! Thank you and keep fishing.
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Katie Budd
2/24/2021 10:51:12 am
Thank you for your kind words and generous recognition!
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