When I was a child every year in August my family would pack up and journey to a cabin on the north shore of Orcas Island in the San Juan chain of Washington State. My Grandmother had lived there with her favorite aunt, uncle and great uncle during the 1930's.
An essential part of our journey was my great grandfather, it was his job to haul the outboard motor for the boat, fishing poles and the three metal ice chests that we would fill during our stay with the winters supply of cod fish for us and our extended family. I have many memories of Great Grandpa most of them involved something to do with the getting or preserving of food. I realize now that by choice, habit or necessity, he lived almost exclusively off the land. My memories of our food gathering forays are rich and filled with laughter, for while I know now it was serious business we had a lot of fun at the same time.
So it was on a bright August morning shortly after sunrise that Grandpa and I set off in an old fourteen foot wooden boat to fish for cod. The water was like glass as we headed out into the crisp morning air that spoke the approaching fall. This is how we spent our days he and I, in the small wooden boat collecting food, putting ashore for lunch on one of the small uninhabited islands, maybe treating ourselves to a fossil hunt or collecting the stray sea urchin shell like a treasure.
But this day held a wonderful surprise.
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