With apologies if I am shattering your image of me as a hardened scourge of the north Pacific waterways, but the truth is, my fishing career ended (or at least hit a long hiatus) a few years ago when the children started demanding tundra daycare.

My Alaska days now are spent changing diapers and making macaroni while Robbi hauls in fish.

Naturally, the kids are curious about what their mother is doing down on the beach, so on one particularly warm and sunny day, we went down to check it out.

I suppose I should clarify: we went down to the beach to participate. To fish. Alden didn’t want to just watch, she wanted to get in on the action.

She’s old enough to know that every fisherman needs a permit.

Fortunately, she’s not old enough to realize that hers expired in 2003.

The permit looks kind of like a credit card and is basically a license to fish, issued on an annual basis by the Alaska Dept. of Fish and Game.

We got bundled up and drove down to the beach with the other fishermen. While they got the nets set up, my band of small brigands explored the tall grasses at the base of the bluff in search of treasures that might have been swept in by the tide.

“Treasures” are in the eye of the beholder, apparently. Alden and company found a bit of green foam, a empty plastic bottle, and a rusted-out tobacco can.

Once the treasure hunt was complete, we ran down to the water’s edge. There was still so much work to be done before the fishing could begin.

Tracy and Robbi were “stacking” the net (so that it could be easily pulled into the water at the appointed hour).

Alden helped.

Specifically, she removed a caribiner from one end of the net.

And attached it to another.

Finally, she used another caribiner to attach one end of the net to the ring that would pull the net into the water when the fishing began.

There was a tremendous sense of accomplishment. Followed by a moment of celebration.

Kato (whose license expired in 1999) felt more comfortable in a supervisory role.

August, on the other hand, was doing pushups in the surf. Literally. Against my better judgment, I decided to let him continue his fun. It’s not every day that they get to play on the shores of Bristol Bay.

    

Meanwhile, Robbi did her best impression of a pack mule and moved a heavy cart with her own brute strength.

While Daryl and Maiko prowled the shoreline for any sign of menace.

Once the nets were all set up, the kids and I retreated to the safety of the “snack raft,” strategically positioned so as to be out of harm’s reach when the fishing began. At that moment (a time determined by Fish and Game and announced via radio broadcast), trucks and ropes move very quickly.

All the while, Iggy stood guard, ready to growl at anything that might threaten or bewilder us.

For example, the light breeze that was rolling in off the water .

The clock struck 10:00, and the fishing began. Tracy drove a truck that pulled a rope that pulled the net into the water. Robbi’s brother set his net while pulling toward the shore along a rope from a buoy 150 yards or so off shore, letting his net fall into the water behind him as he went. When he got to the shore, he dragged the other end of the net up on the beach and tied it to the rope. Cousin Raiden helped (courtesy a license that expired in 1997).

After the initial excitement died down, the kids and I walked over to check out Robbi’s net.

The fish were hitting.

Robbi presented Alden with the fruits of her labor.

They shared a moment. It was a big deal. The first of tens of thousands of sockeye that Alden is likely to catch in her lifetime.

While Kato kept careful watch, Robbi, Alden, and August went along the net and “picked” out the fish we had caught..

Later, Alden demonstrated that “fisherman” and “sass” do not have to be incompatible concepts.

And August refined his shoreline pushup technique to include a no-hands variety. Seriously, I have no idea what he was thinking (or wasn’t), but he did this about 20 times. I promise I did not put him up to it.

The kid is tough. Or nuts. Or just plain weird. I am not sure. In any case, he got rather wet and sandy.

He fell asleep on the four-wheeler on the way back up the beach.

And he remained asleep as I stripped off his wet clothes and hung them on the line.

The fishing had been a success. By which I mean, some fish were caught and no one got injured. Not even I!

It’s exciting to think of the day as even the faintest hint of things to come. So much of who Robbi is has been shaped by her 37 summers on the tundra. At six years old, Alden has already been there seven times. It’s already a part of who she is.

I look forward to seeing her grow into a fisherman: tough, resourceful, intuitive, relentless.

She has no idea how lucky she is to get to spend time up there. I’m just glad we’re able to give her the opportuniyt.

Having one fisherman in my life for the past 15 years has been a revelation. Suddenly, I have a growing handful.