We set our salmon net for the first drift of the season. I know it by heart now. The river. I've spent three summers on it. That time seems so miniscule to most, but to a twenty-one year old it seems like a near lifetime. And I've made a point to pay close attention to each little sandbar, knook of trees, and swerve of the water's edge. I know it now. I know where we're going, where the waves will get rough, and where we'll be blessed with calm sees. I know each turn, each cabin, each grove of willow. And I knew exactly where to set the net. Between a shallow sandbar and a rocky beach- next to a long-abandon fish camp of a Yup'ik elder. We caught 15 our first drift. Enough for enough dry fish for the winter. A blessing, to say the least. And an ever-so-welcoming addition to a dwindling supply of the nature's gifted dinners.
