Last week, my husband decided to go fishing, and invited me along. At first I declined, looking forward to a full day of writing. But the weather forecast said it would be a beautiful day, rare in September. The Kenai River draws visitors from all over the world. How could I pass up the opportunity?
It was the right decision. Just on the drive down, we saw four swans in Potter's Marsh and a couple of dozen belugas in Turnagain Arm. Once we reached the Kenai Peninsula, we had to brake to avoid a bull moose that ran across the road.
The Kenai River itself is beautiful, with just enough glacial silt from feeder creeks to give the river a slightly milky turquoise color. The water ran high, and the fishing wasn't good. My husband only hooked some spent cohos and one small trout. The pair of bald eagles watching him seemed disappointed, too. I guess they were hoping for the castoffs.
Personally, the lack of fish didn't bother me at all. We already have more fish in the freezer than I care to eat. But it was a perfect float, a reminder of how lucky I am to live in Alaska. And the writing was still waiting the next day.