July 25, 2007

Onie is getting up early these days. By nine she was making the coffee and tea. At nine thirty we sat at the table to have our Cheerios and banana before Onie headed off to swim.

Chester came down to fish but before we tried our hand we talked to LaVon about a king salmon trip for Chester, with Ty. Ty had an open date a couple of days away, Saturday, due to a cancellation, and LaVon would book that for Chester. There was no other party booked at the time and LaVon said it was better to have more than one person in the boat. I agreed to go if no one else booked. I like Ty and had a very good time fishing with him last year, for silvers, but my idea of fishing is not sitting in a boat for hours watching a line for a sign of a strike. To me that is fishing for king salmon.

Chester told me he also wants to try his hand at halibut fishing. On the off chance tht Larry would have an opening I called and left my number on his machine and asked Lisa to call me this evening.

Then it was off to Soldotna and Trustworthy Hardware for some terminal tackle for Chester. He was going to use one of our rods but I thought, and he agreed, that he should visit Trustworthy, see what they have, and find the tackle he needs. That way he will be able to fend for himself on his next trip up, should we not be available.

If you noticed today’s date and are familiar with the second run of reds on the Kenai you will not be surprised when I tell you that Trustworthy was a madhouse. Fishermen and would be fishermen of every shape, size and variety crammed the aisles looking for and grabbing gear left and right. It was what should be the height of the second run. Never mind the fish hadn’t been told they should be in the river or if they had been told they had turned a deaf ear. The weir count has been low so far with the highest reading being forty three thousand and the cumulative around three hundred thousand. In years past those numbers would be more like sixty to eighty thousand and seven to eight hundred thousand.

For the most part the shoppers were from Anchorage, Wasilla, Palmer, or the Mat-Su Valley. They had planned their vacations so they could be here to fish for reds and fill their freezers. Later they would fill another freezer with caribou, moose and or bear. The people of Alaska are meat eaters and vegetarians in Alaska are referred to as poor hunters and/or poor fishermen. With their time set they had to make the best use of it and try to catch whatever fish were available in the river so they were getting everything they needed to increase the odds of doing just that. When we had weights, hooks, swivels and clips we stood in line for fifteen minutes to check out. While we were waiting I told Chester that if he were here in June or August checkout is usually a matter of walking to a register and paying for your purchases. He was witnessing one of the biggest days of the year for Trustworthy. It was so busy we even saw one of the owners working.

Chester had spent a part of yesterday driving around exploring Soldotna. One of the places he had visited was the Visitor Center. Now Chester wanted to show me the record king salmon that hung on the wall there as well as trophies and mounts of Alaskan animal and birds. It was just a couple of blocks, right across the river bridge, on the right. He parked the car and we went in to look around. His eyes really lit up when he saw that big king, again. I knew he wanted to catch one like that but would probably be satisfied with something less than a record. We browsed through and picked up literature on hunting, fishing, Soldotna, Homer, and various other things and places before heading to Safeway for a Chai tea, for me, and a Mocha Frappacino for him. I told him it looked like desert to me. He grinned and nodded assent.

Not having access to a freezer Chester will have his fish processed and shipped so we went to Custom Seafood to acquaint him with its location and operation. Then it was back to camp where we began rigging lines at two.

As noted earlier there are not a lot of fish in the river right now and our efforts proved just how few. Neither of us touched or hooked a fish.

Onie got back home and I left the grate to help her with the groceries. Chester headed up to his cabin.

With the groceries stored, Onie worked on the rock fish. It would be part of our evening meal. There were other preparations to be made as well and she worked on them, too.

Outside I did blue boy duty and filled the fresh water tanks before preparing he grill. The rock fish would be cooked there. Then a campfire was laid. Soon guests would be arriving for happy hour and appetizers. Joining us would be Kurt, Christa, Paul and Chester.

As soon as the campfire was lit Kurt, Christa and Paul came across the street from his rig. Chester joined us shortly afterwards. The Eagles played for us, in the background, as we sat down, at six thirty, to enjoy the clam strips Christa had deep fried. These were some of the razor clams we had dug on the beach at Ninilchik. We made quick work of the clam strips and Onie went in to put the tater tots in the oven and the veggies on the stove top while the rockfish were placed on the grill. The fillets were thin and it wouldn’t take long for them to cook. When everything was ready we took our places at the picnic table for our feast.

As the meal was winding down Chuck and La Von came by to have a taste of the rockfish. Chuck opined as how it was his favorite fish and we had done a good job preparing it. La Von nodded her agreement. Before they had gone Shirley dropped by to visit, also.

Even though it was getting dark, it was ten forty, Kurt, Chester and I went down to fish. Our time spent was not rewarded as we came back empty handed an hour later.

Chester, Kurt, Christa and Paul said their good nights and went to their rig while Chester drove up the hill to his cabin.

Onie and I went inside the Marlin where she turned on LMN and I sat down in front of the laptop. It had been four or five days since any notes had been made. A sort was made through my brain cells and a reconstruction of those days was made as much as memory would allow. Somewhere along the way Onie turned off the tube and went to sleep. At two the lid to the laptop closed and I joined her.

July 26, 2007

We were up at ten. Intermittent rain fell as we had half a cantaloupe, each, for breakfast. Inside it was warm and dry but outside in the rain it was just fifty nine.

At noon Onie and I took our rods, our bucket of gear and our net and headed for the grate. Flipping, dragging and snatching we stood next to the river for six hours gleaning from the swift water six fish each. Chester came down from time to time and fished with us and strung two fish for his efforts.

His first sockeye

After six hours on the grate our arms ached, our backs hurt and we were just plain tired. Even though we had agreed to process our own fish this year we decided to take these fish to Custom. Placing them in the toad Chester and I drove to Custom where we checked in and had our fish weighed. Onie and I had landed a total of eighty eight pounds during our time on the grate.

Back at the house it was supper time. Kurt had invited the three of us over to eat with them. Steak Oscar was the entrée with a side of tater tots and salad. It was our first time to eat Steak Oscar and it was a real treat.

Chester opted to fish a little more but didn’t place any more on the stringer. In fading light he exhibited how a real butcher fillets fish when he processed his two. He took the fillets to his cabin for the night. They would go to Custom tomorrow for packaging and freezing.

By ten o’clock we were in the coach in bed.

July 27, 2007

When I rose at five it was fifty three. Chester was just leaving for a king salmon trip, with Ty. Christa and Paul were going along, as well. They, Christa and Paul, would fish half a day and then leave to go with Kurt on a halibut trip out of Ninilchik. I would join Chester for the afternoon on the river.

With the coffee and tea brewing Onie rose and joined me at the table. Our plan was to catch our fish early and have the rest of our day free for other things.

At six o’clock we hit the grate, bucket, net and poles in hand. Over the next two hours Onie landed three while yours truly managed two.

It was breakfast time so we abandoned the fish grate to go to the coach and the breakfast table. Of course we had more coffee and tea. We used it to wash down our sausage. Refreshed we headed back to the grate.

This time the tables were reversed with me out-fishing Onie. She landed three more while I managed to string four more giving me a limit, for the day.

It was nearing noon when I had to leave to meet Chester and Ty. Onie also had a quality afternoon planned. She would spend hers’ in the laundry. Between washing chores she would get some web time and perhaps a little reading.

Kurt drove me to Swiftwater where he was picking up Christa and Paul. Our timing was good as Ty had just beached his boat and the young folks were just stepping out of the boat. Shaking heads told us that one or more kings had not come aboard this morning. Perhaps this afternoon would be better and we would get a king for Chester.

When the three of us were on board Ty backed us off the gravel bar and into the small back water where numerous fishermen were standing, flipping for reds. He eased us out into the channel and headed down river. Passing under the new bridge we looked for and saw the weir counter installation. Now Ty put the boat up on plane and we made serious time going toward "sunken island" where we would start our first drift.

Over six hundred licensed fishing guides are on the Kenai, almost daily. The river is closed to all guides on Sunday and on Mondays only non motorized guided trips, oar boats, are allowed. Today it seemed all six hundred guides were drifting along with us as well as several hundred more private craft, almost all if not all fishing for king salmon.

The banks were also lined with anglers flipping for reds.

Dwellings for the fun seekers and fishermen lined the river. Some were veritable mansions while others were shacks that appeared to be thrown together in the quickest possible way so the owners could get to the important stuff, fishing and sunning. One area I dubbed "redneck village" had a particularly earthy aura.

When I commented to Ty that all that was missing was the junked cars, abandoned boats and old refrigerators on the porch he assured me they were all in the front yards and just not visible from the river. With that knowledge I felt he appellation "redneck village" was justified.

We drifted and fished for the better part of three hours, taking in the passing panorama of life on the Kenai, under an almost cloudless sky. Guides say a cloudy rainy day is the best weather to catch kings. We were hoping the kings didn’t share that theory.

Theory or not when we pulled back into the little backwater at Swiftwater we hadn’t raised a single king much less boated one. We consoled ourselves with the thought that we had spent a sunny afternoon cruising down the river.

Onie was waiting for Chester and me, right on time at three o’clock.

She drove to Trustworthy where Chester and I went in to pick up some new stringers. Onie and I had one rope stringer and when it had twelve reds on it we could barely lift it. A new stringer would permit us to divide our fish and lighten the load. Even at eight pounds per fish, average, one stringer wouldn’t exceed fifty pounds. Chester got one for himself also and treated at the cash register. We appreciated that.

On his first trip into Soldotna Chester had met a fishing guide, Dizzy Dean, in Fred Meyer. Dean happens to be deaf like Chester. They hit it off right away. Now we were on our way to visit Dean, down K Beach Road. It was four or five miles before we got to his cabin which is still under construction. His boat was gone as was he so one could only surmise that he was out fishing. His Mom, his booking agent, was called and she verified our suspicions. We headed back to the coach arriving there at six.

The mornings catch had been in the river all day. The water temperature hovers around forty two so we don’t concern ourselves about fast spoilage but now that we were home it was time to clean the fish.

While that project was under way Onie had one of her own, making the bed and getting a shower. When the fish were bagged the writer headed off to the showers, as well.

Back in the coach Onie was tuned in to LMN. We had a salad and warmed up rock fish for supper. Onie tuned out LMN at ten while I continued with the notes.

At eleven the scribbling stopped and the grate was checked for fish. A couple hundred casts yielded nothing more than a tired arm so the grate was abandoned for the bed.

It was warm.

July 28, 2007

Onie rose at nine. I followed at ten when the warm temps drove me from under the covers. Onie brought me tea in bed and I watched TV until she had the eggs, bacon and grits ready. We settled down with that and our daily crossword.

While she cleaned the kitchen a few notes were made.

It was noon and seventy seven under a bright cloudless sky.

On the grate there was no room for another person but those already there were not being rewarded for their efforts.

We set up the vacuum sealer and supplies on the picnic table and spent some time sealing yesterday’s catch and the rest of the rock fish. We were finished at three thirty.

Onie headed off to Freddies and Chester and I tried our hand at the grate which was now almost empty. We soon learned why and abandoned it in favor of a trip to Kasiloff Seafood about shipping some fish Chester had bought. Chester also inquired about the possibility of working there next summer.

The sun was still high when the grill was fired up at seven thirty. When the charcoal had turned gray the shrimp kabobs were placed over it and were soon table ready. We had snacked on smoked salmon, cheese and onion while waiting for the kabobs.

With the kabobs under severe attack our neighbors Amy and Allen came over to help out. With them Chester, Kurt, Onie and me eating the kabobs were soon consumed. The entrée, salmon tails went on the grill and Onie hurried into the Marlin to prepare the potatoes and snow peas. When all plates were clean Onie served the cheese cake, desert.

Kurt et al were leaving early in the morning to return to Iowa. His boat was still in the water. He navigated the river up to the Moose where I had driven the truck and trailer. There we got the boat loaded and snugged down before heading back to Castaway. We got back at eleven thirty, parked the boat trailer and took in his camper awning and policed the area around his rig. He would be gone for a while and we didn’t want anything blowing around or walking off. When everything was secured we locked his storage shed and he gave me the key.

On the way to the coach I saw a full moon glowing in the fifty eight degree evening, hanging over the river. It was the first time I had seen the moon since we had arrived.

At twelve I closed the door to the coach and joined Onie in bed.

July 29, 2007

A bight sunny Sunday dawned on the Kenai. By nine it was warm.

Kurt and his party had left early, four a.m., for Anchorage, with a promise to return on August fifteenth with some of his fishing buddies.

Since it was so warm we opted for Cheerios and bananas for breakfast then it was time to dress for church.

The supply preacher was a missionary, currently working with a Korean church in Anchorage. In what I found an odd twist he is their English speaking pastor. The older congregation hears a message in Korean while the younger generations hear him speak in English as many of them don’t speak fluent Korean. The church does provide lessons in learning Korean for those of the younger crowd who wish to learn the language. Many of the parents are interested in their children learning it but the children are not so eager.

The sermon was titled "What kind of church are we?" and had to do with whether or not the church members only witnessed to those who fit the pattern of the folks already in the church. The question was posed as to whether a member would witness to someone who was in rags, smelled bad, was Muslim, was of ill repute or from a poor area or exhibited some other trait that was not in keeping with the current membership. It was a sermon that should be heard in every Baptist church I have ever attended. It was a sermon about the good Samaritan without talking about the good Samaritan rather he talked about the church at Antioch and how they reached out to the gentiles when previous ministry had been only to the Jews. While the church did not resound with amens there were a few heard.

By twelve fifteen we were back in the Marlin. It was sunny and hot outside but just hot in the coach.

Onie did the dishes while I made a few more notes then we sat down to a lunch of rock fish and ramen salad. Some large luscious green grapes rounded out our repast.

Onie tied some yarn on hooks as we were running low and then headed off to the grate.

A call was placed to Lisa Croft to confirm Chester and my halibut trip on the morrow. She told me Captain Larry had decided to leave at seven instead of six, as usual, due to tide and weather.

At two thirty I joined Onie on the grate. It was hot, eighty, even though a few clouds blocked the sun at times

Chester soon joined us on the grate and after a short time had landed two fish. My three on the stringer meant we had a total of five.

After supper we tried our hand again at fishing before turning our attention to the cleaning table. While filleting we saw a cow moose come to the far edge of the river, to water.

By nine o’clock Chester had gone up the hill to his cabin and I was in the Marlin. A few games were played before attention was turned to note making. At eleven I checked my voice mail. Lisa Croft had called back to say Larry had changed his mind again and had decided to leave at six, as usual. We would have to be on the Solitude by five forty five. I let Chester know we would need to leave by three thirty.

At eleven the lights went out in the Marlin.

July 30, 2007

Two thirty came mighty quickly but never the less the writer rose, fixed tea, got dressed and finished gathering his warm gear together. Tea was poured into the thermos, sausage was put in a Zip-Loc, water and drinks were placed in the little flexible cooler and all before Chester arrived at ten ‘til three. We loaded the car and Chester drove us out of the park at three on the dot.

With my hands free I managed to drink some tea and have some sausage. Chester had had coffee and a sweet roll before he came to get me.

Once again ground fog failed to materialize to any great extent and no moose interfered with our travel. We arrived in Homer just after five.

We left most of our gear in the car and walked down to the Solitude where the Larrys were just getting things ready for a day of fishing. While big Larry checked fuel and the engines, radios and radar little Larry was busy getting bait on board and arranging tackle.

Introductions were made before we left to get the rest of our gear.

We were back onboard at twenty til six. The rest of the charter was there, the engines warmed and everything in readiness so we shoved off. The protected water of the harbor and near there gave us a chance to get our sea legs before finding bunks to rest our weary heads.

The gentle pitch and roll of the boat rocked us to sleep as Larry took us toward what we hoped would be fertile fishing grounds. For an hour and a half we slept then the changing pitch of the engines awakened me. I shook Chester awake.

It was time to fish.

While we slept the wind had gained a little strength and working with the tide had caused the chop to become a little more pronounced. As rods were passed out each fisherman went to the rail, weaving a little as he went, keeping in tune with the motion of the ocean. With my line just off the bottom I took a minute to look around. Islands, large and small, were off our starboard bow and the area looked familiar. In answer to my query Larry replied we were anchored in the same spot where I caught the two hundred twenty pound halibut last year. Even as he spoke I saw the signature tap tap of a halibut biting the squid and herring that baited Chester’s line. No one else had reported even so much as a nibble and here Chester was getting a bite in the honey hole of all honey holes. It looked like getting Larry for Chester had been the right move. Coaching Chester to be patient and wait for the steady downward pull on his line I could only envision another huge halibut snatched, well if not snatched at least dragged, from the depths of Katchimak Bay. Eons passed before the tip of Chester’s rod was drawn down toward the water’s surface and I told him to lift up slowly but firmly. He did. As he did the rod tip stayed down and I motioned for him to set the hook. He did. If things went right we should soon hear line begin to unwind off the spool of Chester’s reel and the big fight would be on. Chester is much younger than I so we knew the battle between him and the fish wouldn’t be so long. As he began to reel it was obvious that my wish wasn’t going to be fulfilled on his first drop, first bite and first fish. How that could happen was beyond me as we were in the perfect place on the right boat with the right crew, the Larrys. The fish, a ten pounder, came in easily and it was time to re-bait and try again.

As the folks on board fished, Larry and I noticed the wind picking up just a bit. He had told us yesterday had been a perfect day for fishing and they had done very well. We were hoping for a repeat performance but with a rising wind the prospects were diminishing. Another chicken halibut came on board and joined Chester’s back in the ocean. Better fish were there for the taking and we hoped to do the taking. Along with the two halibut came some rock fish. Lighter tackle was broken out, lines rigged and lures dropped overboard. Almost as soon as the lures reached the bottom, and in some cases on the way there, large rock fish took the lure and were cranked on board. No matter what the limit when fish bite on every drop the limit is soon met and so it was with the fishermen on the Solitude.

With no halibut but a limit of rock fish in the fish box the anchor was hoisted and we left for another spot on Larry’s GPS. Hopefully more and bigger halibut were waiting there.

Chester with rock fish

On the windward side of a hump Larry stopped the engines and we began a drift. The increasing wind had roughed up the water a bit more and now the wind resistance of the top hamper acted as a sail and we were being pushed along at a pace too fast to successfully fish. Lines were brought back in and we headed off for yet another place.

One reason we like to fish with Larry is that he likes to catch fish and good fish. He will keep looking and throwing back as long as wind and tide permits. Today both were working against us. If the wind and tide flow together, wave action increases quickly whereas if the wind blows against the tide it tends to flatten the waves and keep the surface smooth. Today there was no smoothness.

Anchored again the six fishermen began fishing again. Halibut were hooked and brought on board. In the process fishermen moved around the deck to avoid tangles and Chester and I ducked and bobbed to avoid them. As the waves increased it became apparent to all that the fishing day would not and could not last much longer. Chester had boated the largest halibut so far but was still fishing and throwing back. Years of hard physical labor in his butcher shop, hay fields and general ranch work had conditioned him like no other on board and tiredness did not seem anywhere near him. At last Larry told us that his next fish would have to be his last fish. He also placed a line in my hand and suggested that I try for a halibut and we would keep the larger of the two. I lowered the line and soon felt a tap tap, waited and set the hook. At the same time Chester hooked up and we said we would keep the larger of the two halibut. His was up first and he left it in the water waiting for mine to surface. A couple of minutes later I had wound mine to the top and my halibut was a silver salmon. Both were boated and we headed for Homer in rough fog covered water.

Chester with halibut

Chester went below to catch a few zees while yours truly went to the flying bridge to visit with the two Larrys. Larry the younger is looking forward to August twenty first when he goes back to school. He will be able to sleep in. For most of the summer he has been rising at four thirty, once school starts that will change to seven. Big Larry will be headed back to the slope very soon for another stint there before returning home to do a few more charters and take his family out on the boat for a five day holiday.

Sometime later the calm protected waters of those near Homer told us our trip was drawing to a close. Chester rose and joined us on the fantail. Once more Larry eased the Solitude into the small boat basin, maneuvered to his slip then spun her ninety degrees, with the help of the two Cummins and the twin screws, and backed in to the dock.

Pictures were taken and then it was off to Buttwhackers to have the fish filleted but first they were hung and more pictures were taken.

When the halibut had been reduced to fillets we got the car and stored the catch in the cooler in the trunk before turning our attention to a few of the many shops on the Spit. Chester wandered in and out of the open doors, looking at knives, ivory carvings, tee shirts, caps and much much more. It was obvious to me that he was interested in absorbing as much as he could about Alaska, its people and products.

With the day growing long and our energy waning we took our leave of the Spit and headed for Sterling and the coach, stopping only long enough to get a couple of Chai lattes at the local Safeway. There were also a couple of blueberry scones that cried out from the display case to be freed and eaten. We obliged them.

On the way back to the park we ran into a little of the ground fog that develops so often on this coastal route. That must have contributed to Chester’s relaxed mood for half way home the car began to drift in the lane as he drifted near sleep. He pulled over and I took my turn at the driving chores while he surrendered to his weariness.

He woke when we pulled into Custom Seafood, in Soldotna, to drop off the halibut and rock fish fillets, at seven.

At the house we unloaded the car before sitting down to relax and relate our adventures to Onie. She’d had her own day getting up at eight, enjoying her coffee and breaking her fast with Cheerios and banana. Before going off to swim she had placed fish in brine starting our next batch of smoked fish. Freddies had occupied her after her swim and while wandering its environs she had found a new swim suit. One of hers’ had gotten its last swim in earlier in the summer and now rested in a land fill somewhere. She had also replenished our larder while there and filled up the tank on the Subaru.

When she got home at two she put up her purchases then retrieved the blue boy for me for later. Summer time in Alaska gives her time to read and she enjoyed the quiet time by indulging in that, for a while. When we got home she was reading, basking in the sun as it slanted under the awning.

When the abbreviated version of her day and ours had been related one load of gray water was emptied with the blue boy. While sapping most of my remaining energy that gave us some breathing room in the holding tank

Seven thirty found the three of us seated at our table with tomatoes, sliced English cucumber and avocado before us. That was followed by halibut steaks Hawaiian. Our meal at an end Chester was ready to go up the hill to his cabin and get some rest.

Before he left we gave him the reds he was storing in his refrigerator, for us. He also watched as we took the fish out of the brine, placed it on racks, seasoned it and started the drying process. His leave taking was delayed even further when Stu came by to visit. Each visitor brings Chester new tales and or information about Alaska and he is eager to hear it all.

When Stu said goodnight Chester did too.

I went into the coach, where Onie was still cleaning the kitchen, sat down and made a few notes about our long and busy day.

At ten thirty we snuggled under the covers and quickly went to sleep.

July 31, 2007

Onie got up at eight thirty and started the coffee and tea. While they were brewing she prepared the ingredients for Zip Loc omelets.

At nine thirty the stirring in the kitchen and smell or coffee brought me to the table.

Our dining room window gave us a grand view of the river where one person was fishing under a heavily overcast sky.

Chester was at our door by ten carrying a coffee cake he had bought at Safeway. It went well with the omelets.

With Chester driving his rent car he and Onie set off for the Cannery near Kenai, at noon. While Chester wanted all of us to go there was too much pressing work to be done at the coach so it had to be a twosome.

They stopped off at Custom to drop off his fish and then took the Spur north to the Access Road where they turned left and went across the inlet to the old restored cannery. It had opened in nineteen twelve but closed in the fifties, I think, as the processing moved elsewhere. It is now a mall of shops.

Alone, I went to shower. Then the smoker was prepared and the fish placed in it and the smoking began. While smoke poured from the vents in the smoker housing the gray water was emptied into the blue boy. Two trips were required as the tank was full again. It takes a lot of water to process fish. With the gray holding tank empty the fresh water tank was filled. It had been empty again. Part of supper was taken from the freezer and placed in the sink to thaw. During my ministrations the temperature in the smoker was checked every few minutes.

When the chores were completed and the temperature in the smoker was stabilized I took my rod, net and bucket and headed to the grate. I should have stayed at the laptop and expanded on notes. It would have been more productive.

When Chester and Onie got back, they had rounded out their day by stopping off at Kasiloff Seafood where he would like to get a job for the next month so he could stay on, but the boss had been gone. Now he asked me to call for him. I did.

I talked to the boss and explained Chester wanted to stay in Alaska a while longer but needed a job to do so. We wondered if he was hiring. He was not. As a matter of fact he would start laying off next Monday as the season was winding down, for him. He did say he would love to have Chester work for him next summer and would guarantee him a job if he showed up. I explained to Chester and it was obvious he was disappointed but understood. He was also happy about the job prospect for next summer.

Onie and I went to happy hour at Dennis and Sandy’s while Chester went up to the cabin. It must be difficult for him in large crowds. Over at Sandy’s LaVon was saying it had been eighty five day before yesterday, the hottest day of the year, so far. At six we went back to the Marlin where I put more wood in the smoker before going to the grate. In sixty casts one hook up was made but no fish were caught.

Chester was back at the coach at seven. While he visited with Onie the grill was cleaned and fired. When the briquettes were white the buffalo burgers and corn on the cob were placed on the racks. Supper was just a few minutes away.

The fish that had been smoking all day were tested for doneness and they were there and very spicy to boot. The smoker was unplugged and the door left off for the racks and fish to cool. While that was taking place a fire was laid and started in the fire pit. With a fire roaring in the pit the fish was taken from the racks and placed on a large tray. Soon it would be vacuum sealed and frozen but first a few pieces were eaten, next to the fire, just to be sure it was okay.

While I tended the fire Onie and Chester sat at the table practicing sign language. She is a very good student and was catching on very quickly. I had been trying but my retention is not near what Onie has.

By ten Onie was tired so she said her goodnight to Chester and got ready for bed. Chester joined me by the campfire where we visited until ten thirty. He seems to still be on Texas time and half an hour by the fire had him blinking his tired eyes. We signed goodnight and he drove up the hill to his cabin. A few more moments were spent by the dying embers before going in and joining Onie in bed.