Sitting on a porch, shirtless in the afternoon sun, drinking a Pabst with Sam while we look words up in the dictionary in the middle of nowhere Idaho with a forest fire burning just two miles north of us. I think this needs to be written down. Just another check off the ol' life to-do list.
The salmon run's going on right now (along with fire season) down in Chamberlain Creek, so Sam, Dave and I went hoggin' last night to see if we could catch one. Hoggin', for those unfamiliar, is the art of using your hands to catch a fish. Sam mastered the technique right away, and taught me the ropes, shocked that I'd never heard of it. Who hasn't heard of Salmon hogging, right? "The trick is to get one hand 'round the base of their tail fin just so, and move your other hand slowly up their stomach, rubbin' 'em a little to calm 'em down, then when you get to their gills-" he interrupted himself with a fierce uppercut clamp maneuver, demonstrating his hand inside the gills of the fish, and making a fist, essentially tearing out the throat. "And, then you just gotta keep 'em from floppin' or jus' toss 'em on the bank." he said nonchalantly.
Sam caught one first, heaving it onto the bank with such force that he ripped on of its gills, then roughly a half hour later Dave got one a little smaller. Both were absolutely huge females, plump with eggs that ran out onto the counter when they were gutted. They were 10 lbs. each, Sam's being 32in. and Dave's 30in. They're sitting in the stove right now, wrapped in tin foil with some lemon pepper and salt, while we're out on the porch so the smell won't drive our stomachs crazy.
As for my salmon catching experience, I'd like to say I got one, but a true fisherman might refute my story. I got my hands on a huge female that Dave spotted, which we agreed later was the biggest we saw. It got away from me when I went for the death grip under the gills, leading us to a dense tree jam in the creek where at least four were hiding. I was still intent on getting the big girl, and finally got into a position where I, after rubbing her belly for a time, calmed her down to the point where I could get a firm grip on her gills. Clamping down to the slimy creature I got the beast fully out of the water, when she really started thrashing. I lost my footing, and the fish slipped out of my hands, nearly missed hitter her head on a log, and left only a swirl of silt as she hit the water and bolted off down the river.
We ended up finding her later after a search, but she was wary, and chomped at us through the dense underbrush, looking possessed, or just thoroughly irritated. Dave nearly got it on shore at one point, but by the time we hiked back to the station with growling stomachs she was the one that got away.
I think it's time to put the dictionary down and focus on eating some hand-caught salmon and drinking a few more of these PBR's. I killed a ground squirrel today with a piece of firewood. I saw the life drain from a salmon's eyes. The stars are beautiful out here, but there isn't much climbing.
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