Of children, fishing and soccer

Is it wrong to want kids simply so I can teach them to fish? I rode out to the Nome River last night, where the pink salmon ("humpys" as they are called in Alaska) are coming in thick. The water actually seemed as if it were boiling, there were so many fish, and the newspaper showed an aerial photo of a local river, showing the schools of fish from 500 ft in the air! Now, I'm not much of a salmon eater. Maybe it was too much as a teenager, when I fished all summer long, or maybe it is because I know there are better things, such as ham. Anyway, although my tastes are not for the piscine species (except halibut, I love halibut) fishing it much like gambling. The thrill of expectancy, waiting for that next cast to be picked up by a passing salmon, and then the hope you can get it back to the shore or boat without you line breaking. The next cast is always the one that will bring in the "Big One".

So, back to the children. On one side of the river there was a group of young Nomites (that's what they call themselves 'round here)actually swimming in the river, splashing each other and taking turns throwing each other in, on this balmy 60 degree evening. On the other, there was a family, Dad, Mom, two young boys (6ish) and an even younger girl, getting in touch with their hunter-gatherer selves. Dad had caught 4-5 salmon in the 45 minutes they had been there, and all the little one were doing the best they could, lucky if the lure hit the water with each cast. For the littlest, Mom would cast the pixie into the river and let the girl real it in. Remarkably, and much to the annoyance of her older brothers, she kept hooking fish. She would fight them best she could, with parental guidance, of course, and then the line would break as she got within a couple of feet of the bank. This would then lead to the speculation that the fish must have been huge, in order to snap the line like that. Perhaps it wasn't a humpy, but a KING salmon (or a "queen" salmon suggested by the girl)! How else could you explain the fight and strength of this magnitude! That being said, I could have sat and watched these kids fish all day long. I'm not one for sappy notes and poignant moments, but picture if you will, one tear rolling quietly down my cheek with the joy of children. (The tear thing didn't really happen but the kids fishing thing was cool none-the-less.)

Following my ride and fishing experience, I returned to town to play indoor soccer with a group of folks who play every Friday night. Now, I haven't played soccer for more than ten years. As the four of you who read this blog know, I have had a myriad of knee problems and recent surgery, and soccer hasn't really been a knee friendly sport. But here in Nome, there are not too many alternatives for exercise and social outlet. So I played. I sweat until I had no more to sweat. I felt as if my lungs would explode. I wore most of the skin off of my feet. I scored two goals. I was hit in the face with a soccer ball. And I had one of the best times I have had in a long time. It was exillerating to not play as poorly as I thought I would play, and to actually have some coordination. I fought for the ball, I kicked well with BOTH feet, used my elbows when I had to. The endorphin high upon leaving kept me up for hours and I slept terribly last night because I was so sore. It was great! Needless to say, I will be playing on Fridays for the rest of my stay here. I even may have drafted some folks to play Ultimate. Once again, to my Tucson friends, beware of my mad skills upon my return. Between soccer and Air Attack (maybe I will get sponsored by Nike, Arthur, don't think I couldn't sense the sarcasm in your post) I will be a force with which will need to be reckoned when I am returning thus, yeah.

So today's lessons,:
children: Good
fishing: Good
soccer: Awesome
grammar and spelling: Poor to middlin'
fire: Bad