Caveat: Tree #1576 “Awaiting some sun”

This tree is hoping for a bit of sun in through the window. There is a maple tree and two bay laurels, which I got a few months ago via the internet. I don’t want to subject these baby trees to the unending damp of an outdoor life in Southeast Alaska just yet – I have noticed that exotic saplings seem have a hard time with that aspect of the local climate, moreso than issues with the lower temperatures or lack of direct sun. Too many of my saplings have died of “too much moisture” – mostly due to concomitant mold / fungus, I suspect.


CaveatDumpTruck Logo[daily log: walking, 2.5km;]

Caveat: Tree #1563 “Robinson Crusoe”

This tree had a mountain behind it.


I built a shelf in my greenhouse. I was particularly proud of the fact that I used entirely “found” and “trash” items to build it – wood abandoned on the side of the road, some particle board shelf pieces found in the dumpster at work. I get a “Robinson Crusoe” feeling when I can do something like that, which pleases me.


CaveatDumpTruck Logo[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km]

Caveat: Tree #1521 “A northbound duck”

This tree stood by while a duck swam northward (small light-colored speck on the water near the exact center is duck).

Since the sun was shining and the snow was melting, I decided I should do some work in my greenhouse.

I planted some spinach and lettuce, moved my pot with my california bay laurel trees out there.

CaveatDumpTruck Logo[daily log: walking, 4km; dogwalking, 3km]

Caveat: Tree #1511 “Wearing green”

This tree wore green.

I’m very tired today. Either I’m coming down with something, or I’m just burned out after a long (-er than normal) week. There was Arthur’s doctor’s appointment, yesterday. But we also had (another) water system crisis at home last night. Our water cistern (3000 gallons) had become surprisingly empty. It turns out there was a massive leak down at the dock – there’s a water pipe that runs out to the spigot on the dock, and it had burst. So basically our water was running out directly into the sea, under the dock where no one could notice. I was up late finding the leak and then finding the spigot that turned off the water line to the dock (it was literally buried in several inches of dirt in a hole beside the boat shed). Then I was setting up and refilling the cistern – a 7 hour process, in total, using water from the new well and a garden hose.

CaveatDumpTruck Logo[daily log: walking, 5.5km; dogwalking, 3.5km]

Caveat: Tree #1447 “As seen from above”

This tree is a guest tree from my past. I took this picture looking down from my apartment window in February, 2013, in the Juyeop neighborhood of Ilsan, South korea.


It was a dumpy apartment, but I liked that it was very close to work and the subway. It’s where I was living when I was diagnosed with cancer later that year.

Today I spent part of the morning fixing the septic tank aerator pump. Well… not fixing, exactly – more like replacing. The old one seems to have died, so I put in a new one, that I ordered on Amazon. The new one is installed, below – the old one is already removed.


picture[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 4km]

Caveat: Tree #1434 “The dog’s nose and the trouble it can bring”

This tree is growing out of a stump that has a hole in it where a dog stuck her nose.


Later, this dog found a dead animal carcass lying by the road at the pond (the spot I call “Rockpit City Park”). Of course she tried to eat the carcass. Subsequently, almost instantaneously, she vomited and had diarrhea, but soon she was feeling fine again.

It really makes me angry how people leave carcasses by the road. It’s irresponsible and disrespects neighbors.

picture[daily log: walking, 3km; dogwalking, 3.5km]

Caveat: 쌀떡볶이

The gift store owner, Chad, is aware of my background as a former resident of Korea. He and his wife apparently have membership in some kind of international junk food subscription service. It’s kinda of eccentric and cool.

So they bring in to me, the other day, this box full of Korean junk food – the kind you’d see at any 7-11 in South Korea. There were these one snacks in that box that I remember buying quite regularly in the store in the first floor of my apartment building: 쌀떡볶이 [ssaltteokbokki]. It was quite amazing, to get a package of these in Craig, Alaska.


So I got them and ate them, and it made me nostalgic.

Chad and Kristin are very cool bosses.


Caveat: Tree #1414 “An eagle’s eye”

This tree has an eagle looking down at me.


I went in to work today, not a normally scheduled work day. But Santa was scheduled to appear. The store was quite busy, and children came through. We sold stuff at the gift shop.

Here is a picture of the gift shop “family” with the visiting Santa (known as Earnie).

Jan and I are wearing our uniform “elf hats”. The children are the owners’ kids – the owner Chad is kneeling at right.

picture[daily log: walking, 4.5km; retailing, 6hr]

Caveat: Radio Silence

I was driving to work the other day, listening to my music, and I had a tragic epiphany.

I almost never listen to music anymore. That day, listening to music, as I drove to work, was that sort of exception that underscores the rule.

All my life, I’ve been accustomed to having a “soundtrack” of sorts. Which is to say, I’ve very often had music in the background – especially when I’m alone. And given the circumstances of my life, I’ve certainly spent the majority of it alone, for substantial portions of each day. I’m also capable of a more engaged type of listening – consuming music in focused fashion, as a concert, or just listening carefully to something I’ve decided I like. I think of these as quite different activities – and the types of music I listen to in these two different activities aren’t necessarily identical sets. I never use classical music for background listening, for example. On the other hand, some of the quite banal euro/techno crap I listen to as background music often is startlingly incapable of engaging me. So it’s just a background thing. There’re even whole subgenres that admit that: the various types of “ambient” tracks that can be found. But they work well as background music.

There are also immense fields of music that can be either/or. Mostly these fall into the pop/alt/rap/country genres of yore, though I think my use of those terms might date me, as our culture’s ways of thinking about music and genre has evolved past my comprehension. I have no “playlists” – that’s not how I listen to background music. I have a single folder of “tracks I like” which is a subset of my entire collection, and I have the mp3 player on my phone. And I push the shuffle button and off I go. It can be anything: a k-pop track followed by some weird German dark industrial techno followed by a 70’s disco bit followed by Taylor Swift. Et cetera. If something that comes on the “shuffle” doesn’t match my current mood, I’ll just hit the “next track” button and move on. But what I enjoy hearing one day isn’t what I’ll fixate on the next. And none of this rises to “engaged listening” except on the rarest occasions. Mostly it’s old, familiar stuff that I’ve acquired over the years, where more recent acquisitions tend to be more likely to be what I want to hear.

This was my style of listening even before the advent of mp3 players, to be honest. It was just a bit more laborious to mess with CDs (in the olden days) or cassettes (in the oldener days) or vinyl (in the oldenest days) to get the effect I was so pleased to discover once the “shuffle” button came along. I suppose there was more of a tendency , back then, for the “shuffle” effect to be at the level of albums or mix-tapes than to be at the level of individual tracks. But if I made mix-tapes for myself, I’d certainly work to maximize the randomness of it, from among the music I considered to be my back catalog.

The artists and tracks that have existed for the longest in my catalog are some (but no means all or even most) of the music from my childhood: Bob Dylan, Cat Stevens, Arlo Guthrie, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band are probably the most notable. Then there are a few from a period of exploration in my high school years: mostly Talking Heads, David Bowie, certain individual tracks (but rarely artists’ entire oeuvres) from the pop radio of the era (hence fragments of disco, punk, and such).

I acquired a lot of music in college – as most people do. And some of it remains the most resonant for me. Depeche Mode, The Cure, more Bowie, some early rap (eg NWA), some bits of “club music” of the 80’s.

Some artists in high rotation in that long-ago era have since failed to survive. I remember the Beatles, from my childhood, used to be invited, but at some point I lost interest. I remember thinking highly of Dire Straits at one point, but for the last several decades I can’t stand them. I exiled Aztec Camera for a few decades, but they made a comeback at some point. Tastes change.

There were my years in Latin America (actual and later “de facto” as a graduate student of Spanish, where my day-to-day life was at least 50% in Spanish even though I was living in Philadelphia). That contributed artists such as Cafe Tacuba, Los Fabulosos Cadillacs, or Silvio Rodriguez – each as diverse from each other as any are from any North American music. I have tracks of Nuyorican rap, Cuban folk, Mexican punk.

Much later, my time in Korea was a period of a rate of fairly high discovery of new music. That’s because of the invention of the internet, and the existence of streaming radio stations, and the emergence of Youtube and its endless suggestion algorithm. I acquired lots of little bits of k-pop (from my students – naturally) but also quite diverse bits of stuff from all over. German techno and industrial, US alt rock, Röyksopp (Norwegian, I think), strange pop anthems in unlikely languages: Arabic, Georgian, Japanese. Many of these discoveries are actually documented on this blog, which I was maintaining once I’d moved to Korea. I had my “What I’m listening to now” feature, or as I sometimes called it, “Background noise”.

Then I came to Alaska.

It’s not like the internet went away. But circumstances changed. The internet here is still abominably slow. Streaming internet radio or more contemporary streaming apps and services (e.g. Spotify) are out – they don’t seem to have been engineered with the idea of an “offline” mode in mind (e.g. there’s no “download and listen later” option). Youtube suffers the same shortcoming. Sometimes it works.

Really, though, those are just excuses. I still have my mp3 player (nowadays an app on my phone rather than a standalone gadget, as I had in the early 2000’s).

In fact, rather, there’s a quite straightforward reason for the loss of soundtrack. I no longer live alone – I live as a caretaker with my uncle. And he gets up to mischief, sometimes. I can’t be “tuned out” listening to music – not on speakers and certainly not on headphones or earbuds. I need “situational awareness”. This has paid off more than once. Like the time a few years ago when I caught him toting the 32 foot ladder out to the dock, on a windy day, because he’d suddenly decided he needed to “fix” something on the dock arch. That was only possible because of the clatter of the ladder carrying up to the attic where I worked on my computer. Or the time just two days ago late at night when he was stumbling around in the basement  (where he likes to sleep) having gotten disoriented (possibly a bit feverish from our recent vaccination). I stay “tuned in” to the sounds in the house. Always.

That means no music at home.

I’m not really able to listen to music at work, either. I mean, when Chad comes in (the new owner), there’s music. I get a pleasant background of Christian Rock and Christian Country. Actually, some of it grows on you – it’s not so bad, especially if you avoid engaged listening and just use it for background music. But I’ve resisted putting on my own soundtrack when Chad’s not around, because I suspect my tastes in music might antagonize the customers (e.g. “What’s this foreign crap doing playing in here?”). So the only time I listen to music is when I’m driving – and only when Arthur’s not riding along, because it would make communicating with him even harder than it is already, with his incipient deafness and cognitive challenges.

Half the time, I don’t bother then. The drive to town is only 25 minutes, and firing up the mp3 player on my phone and linking it to the car’s speakers is just enough of a gumption trap that I don’t do it.

I’d estimate that my music consumption is at about 3-5% of what it was when I lived in Korea. And my rate of new music discovery is even less. Perhaps this is one reason why, impressionistically, I often compare my current lifestyle to life in the military, despite the fact that there’s almost nothing similar about it. My time in the military was the only other time in my life when my music consumption was so low. That palpable absence lends the same “feel” to my day-to-day existence.

Sometimes, I miss it. But I’m not sure how to solve it.

What I’m listening to right now.



Caveat: Combustability

One thing I sometimes spend too much time worrying about is whether Arthur will burn his house down – by accident, I mean. The thing is, Arthur is used to considering himself supremely competent in the management of combustible materials. After all, his career was careening through air by managing a carefully-controlled, ongoing explosion (the helicopter engine). There have been incidents before.

One time he was messing with the propane heater in the kitchen, something wrong with the igniter, and he was lying there with the thing half taken apart, mashing the ignition over and over and meanwhile he hadn’t turned off the gas. I could see that going wrong.

There was another time when he was trying to use his little propane torch to loosen the bolts on the boat trolley. They were almost glowing orange. And he was banging away while still running the torch. I could see that going wrong.

Arthur hasn’t adapted his self-perception away from the self-image that he’s good at working on stuff, including burning, combustible stuff.

Last night, I knew he was feeling much better. How did I know? I had just fallen asleep, and I awoke to the sound of banging down in the basement (boathouse). He had decided it was an excellent time to “repair” the Toyo kerosene heater that’s down there. The strong smell of heating oil was rising up through the house. He’d had a “spill” when trying to manipulate the removable tank that inserts into the heater.

I suggested we’d be better off working on it the next day (today), and finally he shuffled up the stairs to sleep in the main bedroom. I put the pile of kerosene-soaked paper towels that he’d left on the floor outside.

This morning, I repaired the stove – it was showing an error code “EE8” – which I looked up online as being related to the exhaust fan not working right. I found a crack in a hose leading to the exhaust fan, and there was crud in there that had to be cleaned out.

Arthur told me he hadn’t even noticed the error code, and had simply decided based on past experience that it had to be a fuel problem – that’s why he was messing with the fuel. I wonder if he just likes messing with flammable materials?

I might start keeping my most important documents in the car.



Caveat: Fishing Report #(n + 33)

As Arthur put it, as we headed back at around 1 PM: “another perfect score.” His meaning was: zero fish caught. The wind was picking up, snapping waves at the boat as we entered Port Saint Nick via the south entrance.

Of course, we started out too late in the season, didn’t we? Anyway, we should have been able to catch some halibut – there have been reports from other fishers I’ve talked to, at the gift store, about catching halibut. But we only had one halibut pole (Arthur forgot to fix the other one, which was declared broken a few outings back), and the place we’d been lucky last year didn’t work out. We caught two of what I call a small “uglyfish” – some kind of bottom fish or rock fish, that we returned.

We’d tried for halibut after an obligatory troll down the east side of San Juan Island. That was utterly fruitless, too. We caught a lot of kelp.

We hadn’t started early – maybe we left the dock at around 8:30. But the sea was very calm and some heavy fog made our navigation out the inlet a GPS-based untertaking. It had lifted by the time we reached the open waters of Bucarelli Bay.

Overall, nothing really went wrong. It was just what fishing would be like, if it were an overly dramatic sigh.

Seasonal totals:

  • Coho: 5 (minus 1 lost at dock)
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 0
  • Other: 0
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 5


Caveat: Tree #1319 “The story of the hungry deer”

This tree in the foreground is a young oak tree I was trying to grow. It was doing well. It has been outdoors all summer, it had lots of leaves. I planted it in the ground about 5 weeks ago. Last night, some forest beast (I’m assuming a deer) came along and ate all its leaves, leaving only a few. I’m not sure it can survive this.

picture[daily log: walking, 4km; dogwalking, 3km]

Caveat: Fishing Report #(n + 32)

We were skunked.

I kept waiting for Arthur to say he wanted to go fishing again. He never did. I suspect he finally picked up on my frustration with our efforts and putting up with his “drama” (as Alan termed it), and it’s easy to just keep procrastinating – he’s still Arthur, after all: the erstwhile emperor of procrastination.

Anyway, the other day I pointed out that the weather was looking promising (for a change), and so we set Sunday as a day to try fishing.

We departed the dock at 8 AM. It was quite windy – there’d been a rainy deluge in the predawn hours, as we’ve been having quite a few of, lately. Instead of getting the usual drizzle-all-day pattern of rain, we’ve been seeing these massive deluges of an hour or two, broken up then by spots of sun and strong wind: a more “midwestern” weather pattern.

So it was windy and between deluges. We went out to the north end of San Juan Island, and started trolling. Here is a picture.


We trolled down the west side of the island, rather than our typical east side, so as to stay in the lee side of the island. Not a single bite on our trolling hooks. We stopped at Diamond Point, on the southern tip, and crossed over to Tranquil Point. I was proud of crossing to exactly the point on just visual dead reckoning, not using the boat’s GPS navigator thingy intentionally.

We trolled more but found no fish. The wind calmed and the sun came out for a bit, but Arthur seems to be content with a half-day of fishing, so we headed home at noon, and were docked and stowed at 1 PM.

There was no drama, nothing went wrong, but there were no fish, either. A neutral day.

  • Coho: 5 (minus 1 lost at dock)
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 0
  • Other: 0
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 3


Caveat: Tree #1305

This tree was there as the dog and I prepared for our walk (picture taken by Penny, dogowner).

picture[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km; c094056062084s]

Caveat: Fishing Report #(n + 31)

It was not without misadventure. But we did survive. And now we have 4 salmon that we didn’t have before.

We left the dock at 8 AM. It was heavily overcast and drizzly. The sun and blue skies of the last week or so had decided to disappear – just in time for our finally being able to make our fishing trip happen.

We went to the northeast corner of San Juan Island (called by local xenophobes of various stripes “Saint John”). We saw other boats, we trolled around through the notch several times. We caught a coho salmon, and so Arthur went to fill the fish-containing basin at the back of the boat with some sea-water. The spray hose attachment pump didn’t work (another thing that should be tested before departing the dock!). I suspect a corroded connection somewhere. So meanwhile, we can always go “low tech” and fill the basin using a bucket.

So I was using a bucket to fill the basin, leaning over the side of the boat, getting some water, dumping it. Well, I was also trying to monitor the direction of the boat – I should have slowed/stopped the boat, but I was trying to multi-task, and Arthur and Alan weren’t being terribly useful with respect to situational awareness. With my attention in two places at once, I managed to lose the bucket. I would have just given up and let the sea have the bucket, but Arthur insisted we circle back and try to fetch it several times, until it had sunk out of sight beneath the rolly waves. Arthur spends a lot of time obsessing over the various buckets in his mental inventory, which all seem to have individual characteristics and personalities, and he has a hard time reconciling this mental inventory to fact in the real world at the present moment. So this will contribute to that problem. Anyway, we’ll need to buy some more buckets. Meanwhile, there was a spare bucket on the boat, though somewhat larger and a bit harder to handle. I tied a rope to the handle of that one, so it would be harder to lose in the sea.

We caught a few more coho salmon, and lost a few, too, as Alan or Arthur tried to reel them in and failed to bring them on board. Sometimes that happens, but it seemed to be happening more than usual.

Around 1100, Alan caught a massive agglomeration of kelp, which took a while to disentangle. That (along with the constant drizzle) dampened our spirits with respect to further orbits trolling for salmon, so Alan suggested we head over to Caldera and try for halibut. We crossed Bucarelli Bay in choppy seas with low visibility due to overcast and rain, and at Caldera Alan got his hook in for some halibut, but Arthur struggled with the second halibut pole, as we realized that the second pole had a mechanical problem which we’d identified last Fall, and which was supposed to have been repaired ™  but of course never was.

So that ended Arthur’s interest in continued efforts to fish, and Alan was unhappy standing in the drizzle at the back of the boat, too. So we headed home. Though it was choppy with a steady south wind out on Bucarelli, inside Port Saint Nick the water remained flat, and docking was easy – we docked at around 1 PM.

We had 5 coho, and Arthur set about gutting and cleaning them right there on the transom, while Alan and I fled the scene because Arthur, gutting a fish, is a demonic thing, unhealthy to behold. Unfortunately, Arthur managed to lose one of the 5 fish overboard in the process of cleaning them. He wanted me to try to fetch the fish out of the water with the net, but by the time I got down there, I couldn’t see anything in the cloudy, sea-green sea under the dim light of the heavily overcast skies.

We had salmon barbecued on the traeger grill for dinner. It wasn’t too bad.


  • Coho: 5 (minus 1 lost at dock)
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 0
  • Other: 0
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 3


Caveat: Tree #1290

This tree (small, in the foreground) is my redwood tree – mentioned before. I decided it was looking healthy enough to plant it in the ground. I put it along the path to my treehouse.

picture[daily log: walking, 4.5km; dogwalking, 3km; c093057063084s]

Caveat: Tree #1287

This tree oversaw a boat that wasn’t afloat.


Chet the boat mechanic made short work of repairing Arthur’s boat. It was finished today. Because of high turnover at his shop, he wanted us to fetch it as soon as possible.

Arthur basically bullied me into letting him drive the boat home alone. I wasn’t happy, but I need to just let go. It’s his boat. If he wants to go out and have adventures in it and wander around the sea, I need to refuse to stand in his way. He thinks I’m overly controlling and excessively cautious. But of course, he doesn’t remember all the stuff that’s gone wrong in the past. He just has these quite stale, vague mental images of everything going smoothly. So Arthur drove the boat home, and I took the boat trailer home with the car. I’m pretty angry, but mostly because he is so dismissive of my efforts to communicate. He ignores or willfully misunderstands my concerns until finally I give up on trying to explain them, and let him have his way. Bear in mind that this is not specific to his cognitive issues related to the stroke and head injury – he has always been like this. I think in some weird, subconscious way, he exploits his new memory and comprehension issues to ensure he can be this way “more and better than ever.”

The problem with the boat was an “Idle control valve.” Chet wrote on his summary of work done:

Alarms going off, hook motor to CDS fault idle control valve, replace bad IAC valve, service both motors, oil change, lower lubes, test run both motors on hose no faults on main, replace trim bracket anode on main

Which is to say, it was easy to fix – for him. There is no way I could have done it. These modern engines with their electronics and such, you need the “CDS” (computer diagnostic system) to be able to figure anything out.

Below is the offending removed and replaced valve.

picture[daily log: walking, 3.5km; dogwalking, 4km; c149080063084s]

Caveat: Tree #1285

This tree was in the background as a raven cavorted along at dock-edge.
We got the boat to town successfully. It took about 95 minutes on the kicker (small) engine only, at about 5 knots speed but with a good tailwind outside of Port Saint Nick that got us up to around 7 knots. It’s parked at the boat-doctor’s place. Here is a view of Craig harbor as we entered. It was a rainy morning.
Then Art got a ride home with Penny and I worked all day. I made some frames and messed with spreadsheets. I realized I had done something quite new in life: I commuted to work by boat this morning.

picture[daily log: walking, 6km; retailing, 8.5hr; boating, 2hr; c103061055084s]

Caveat: Tree #1281

This tree is awaiting more rain.
It never rains but it pours. On top of the boat problem, this morning it turned out the UV water filter system had managed to stop working during a brief power outage yesterday. it turned out the florescent UV bulb inside it was burned out. Art did have a replacement on hand, but unfortunately there’s a glass protective sleeve that goes around, that somehow broke on trying to reinstall things – I suspect I was doing something wrong. But in all the cardboard tubes which I thought had spare, additional glass protective sleeves, there was nothing but air – Arthur was saving them for some reason, but the result was that I thought we had more backup inventory than in fact we had. So now we have to await a re-order of protective sleeves from Amazon. Meanwhile, it turns out that when Arthur built this filter system, he didn’t take into account the possibility that it might need to be bypassed temporarily. There’s no bypass route or valves. So… I had to construct a bypass using a garden hose from an upstream spigot to a downstream spigot – the latter being the water source for the washing machine. Here is the hose, coming up the stairs…
… and connecting behind the washing machine.
This more-or-less works for water supply, though our laundry facility is disabled. But now we wait 10 days while Amazon delivers the part we need. I will work on re-engineering the filter installation area so that it has an actual, workable bypass system for events like this in the future.

picture[daily log: walking, 5.5km; c100060076084s]

Caveat: Tree #1277

This tree stood in the background while I exploited a moment of non-rain to begin trying to diagnose our boat’s engine’s problem. Something is causing it not to idle. I took out and inspected the spark plugs. Turns out Art doesn’t have a spare set – so I’ll shop for them tomorrow.

picture[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 4km; c103059072084s]

Caveat: Fishing Report #(n + 30)

After a very long winter season, we resumed fishing today. As usual, Arthur gave me basically zero notice of his expectation. His approach has always been “military style”: never announce plans in advance, better to catch those around you unawares with whatever project you have in mind. His idea of advance notice is to say something at bedtime the night before a proposed early departure. Still, I’d more or less expected it – it was bound to happen sooner or later. He has a hard time conceptualizing the idea of “preparing” for going fishing – in his mind, the boat is always ready and nothing could possibly go wrong, it’s just a matter of walking down to it, staring the engines, and pulling away from the dock.

That said, really, it wasn’t much of a fishing trip. It was more of a “shakedown” cruise to see where we stood with boat after such a long period of non-use.

On the positive side: it still floats.

On the negative side, we seem to have some increasingly serious engine issues – the stuttering problem we’ve seen on and off in previous years (and which has never been diagnosed) did NOT return, but we did have issues with the engine not staying running on idle – which is very problematic, because it must be in idle to shift it into gear – and we got the “overheating” alarm several times, essentially randomly. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it may need a visit to the mechanic for service. The problem, of course, with that, is that it’s a quite involved process to get the boat to the mechanic. We may pull it out of the water and try flushing the engine’s cooling, and I might research online on how to adjust the idle on these types of engines (if possible – I think they’re without carburetors, using fuel injection instead).

Another negative – one of the downriggers wasn’t working. An electrical problem, in the source cable – not in the downrigger itself, as it worked fine when plugged in to the other downrigger’s socket. So I’ll have to try to solve this electrical problem. I’ve messed with this issue before (last year? Or was it the year before that?).

We departed the dock at around 8:30. It was overcast but flat. We went to Caldera, a spot which I associate with luck with catching coho early in the season. We got a tiny black bass and tiny rockfish with our one working downrigger, which was reassuring – we know the hooks are working, right? But no coho.

The wind picked up shortly after we started trolling. The forecast was that a big storm with 4- or 5-foot swells on Bucarelli was coming in by this evening, so we decided we’d done enough testing of our systems, and got home again by noon. Arthur was cold. He suffers a lot from feeling cold, these days – it might be one reason why he has much less patience for fishing up here than he used to.

  • Coho: 0
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 0
  • Other: 0
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 2

Here’s the boat before launch, anticipating its upcoming short voyage.

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