Caveat: Tree #991

This tree saw me making very slow progress on the roof of my treehouse. It was a clear but chilly day – first taste of Fall.
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Fred and Pat stopped by and took their boat back home.
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picture[daily log: walking, 3km; sawing and banging, 4hr]

Caveat: Tree #983

This tree saw the addition of a sixth wall panel to my treehouse, and then I lifted the first roof-rafter into place.
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picture[daily log: walking, 2.5km; banging and hoisting, 4hr]

Caveat: Tree #975

This tree was foregrounded by part of my treehouse-in-progress.
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Meanwhile, I found a few vegetables in my mold-garden (aka greenhouse).
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picture[daily log: walking, 3.5km; retailing, 7hr]

Caveat: frame-wedging hell

This is not really a frame shop journal – it’s just a thing that happened at work today.

We got this frame that we’d ordered, so I set to put it together. The company that provides us with the pre-cut frames, Larson-Juhl (incidentally owned by Berkshire Hathaway AKA bazillionaire Warren Buffet) always cuts these nice little slots into the corners of the wooden frames, which are a standardized size to receive these little plastic wedge thingies. You just pound them in, and everything is so precisely cut that the corner has a nice, neat, ideal join.

But this time, the wedge shapes were different than the standard. The standard plastic wedge thingies wouldn’t fit. And they hadn’t sent us any alternate wedge thingies to slip into the slots at the corners.

I was stymied. Then, being far too clever for my own good, I decided I could make my own. I carved them out of bits of scrap wood I had lying around. And in fact, they fit in very nicely, and did a good job.

In this picture, you can see a frame corner, with my custom wooden wedge thingy making the join, and a standard plastic wedge thingy standing nearby for comparison – it looks like a little brown plastic Star Wars TIE Fighter.

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Unfortunately, this ended in disaster. As soon as I inserted the picture and glass, and began applying the special staples to hold everything in, the corner wood bits cracked. I tried to salvage my clever connectors with a bit of super glue, but the super glue seeped onto the front side of the frame and corroded the fine, smooth finish of the frame. Result: frame ruined, and 4 hours wasted, and we have to re-order the frame (hopefully this time they’ll either use the standard cut, or send us new, correctly-sized wedge thingies).

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Caveat: Tree #969

This tree saw wall section 3 of 10 installed on the treehouse.
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Here’s another angle. I had seen a hole in the rain, and jumped in.
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Meanwhile, a pair of young deer visited the driveway.
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picture[daily log: walking, 3km; banging and sawing, 2hr]

Caveat: Tree #966

This tree saw me adding a second wall-section to my treehouse. I plan a total of 10 semi-pre-fab wall sections, five on the south side, five on the north side.
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Here are some other views of it.
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picture[daily log: walking, 2.5km; hammering and banging, 3hr]

Caveat: Fishing Report #(n + 29)

We left the dock at 7:30.

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The sea was calm when we started out. Based on the marine forecasts, I was trying to hit a “hole” between two fronts of the storms we’ve been having, and it seems like I did it right. Tomorrow is supposed to see “gale” conditions on Bucarelli Bay.

We went out and started trolling along Cemetery Island, just outside the north entrance to Port Saint Nicholas.

In fact, it felt like Arthur’s heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t want to go out farther, so we turned around and trolled southward, back past the north entrance, along the Coronados to the south entrance. And having caught nothing, Arthur started pulling in the lines without even commenting. It was like the whole fishing trip was just “going through the motions.”

We returned to the dock at around 9:45.

“Skunked” – though I’d call this a self-goal, to a certain extent.

With so much of the day still remaining, I decided it was a good time to check the running condition of the GDC (my RV camper). Its battery was dead. So I’ve been charging it.

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Year-to-date totals:

  • Coho: 15
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 10
  • Muy Grande Halibut (> 50lbs): 2
  • Other: 3
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 28
  • Downrigger weights left on the bottom of the sea: 1

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Caveat: Tree #961

This tree saw my little colorful plastic windmill-thingy spinning in the rain.
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I had a lot of greenhouse tomatoes.
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I used several of them, and some elk meat Joe gave us, to make spaghetti.
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picture[daily log: walking, 1.5km]

Caveat: Every Penny Counts

While Jan was cleaning a small corner of the store yesterday, I looked down and said, “Oh, look, a penny!”

There had been a penny lying on the floor there, under a merchandise display. I picked it up and looked at the penny. I was surprised.

“I think we need to clean the store more often,” I said to Jan.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

I showed her the penny. The mint date on the penny was “1925.”

“That penny’s been lying there for a long time, maybe.” We laughed about it.

I mean, the store’s building is at most 40 years old. I think younger than that, even. And the gift store has only occupied the space for about 10 years, I think. Maybe 12. So someone must have dropped the penny there more recently than 1925. It was just amusing to imagine it lying there for 96 years.

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Caveat: Fishing Report #(n + 28)

Joe and Arthur and I went out fishing today. Joe’s stepson had intended to accompany us, but bowed out.

We got a very late start. That’s because the batteries were dead in the boat. And then, even when we charged them up, the big motor wouldn’t start. It was an electrical problem. Troubleshooting revealed that one of the connectors to the battery was so corroded it had broken through (picture).

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We had to repair the electrical connectors to the battery.

We finally left the dock at 9:15. We went to Black Beach, at the north end of San Juan, and trolled for salmon. Nothing.

We went to the north end of San Ignacio and trolled southward along the eastern side. We saw my boss Wayne in another boat. Maybe he was catching a fish – it was hard to tell from the distance. But we caught nothing.

We were skunked for salmon for the day. At about 12:30 we put in for halibut on the southwest corner of San Ignacio (Cocos Point).

Joe caught one humongous halibut. About 70 pounds, 56 inches long.

It didn’t fit in the fish-holding tank at the back of the boat – its tail stuck out.

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Arthur and I were satisfied to have assisted, and we headed back. The sea, that had been flat in the morning, was whipped into a frenzy by increasing wind, going home, and we were slapping 3-4 foot waves all the way until we got inside Port Saint Nicholas.

We tied up at the dock at 2:45.

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Year-to-date totals:

  • Coho: 15
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 10
  • Mongo Halibut (> 50lbs): 2
  • Other: 3
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 28
  • Downrigger weights left on the bottom of the sea: 1

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Caveat: Tree #948

This tree saw me raise my first wall-section for my treehouse.
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Here are some other angles on the same object.
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picture[daily log: walking, 2.5km; hammering and sawing, 5hr]

Caveat: Tree #947

This tree has been chopped up and turned into parts of a sort of pre-fab modular section of treehouse wall. This is my first try for my plan, but I ran into an issue so I didn’t install it. I think I’m on the right track, though. It got windy in the afternoon so I stopped.
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picture[daily log: walking, 2km; hammering and sawing, 3hr]

Caveat: Tree #946

This tree saw me arrive with a trailerload of new ingredients for my treehouse, including the roofing material and rafters. This is the biggest single purchase I have made for this project.
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picture[daily log: walking, 3km; carrying and moving heavy things, 2hr]

Caveat: Fishing Report #(n+27)

We went fishing again today. This is because Joe wanted to maximize his friend Jim’s chances to fish, before Jim goes back to Idaho.

We left right before 7 AM. Joe rejected even the possibility of trolling for salmon. My impression is that Joe finds trolling boring, and his fishing dreams focus on catching great big halibuts, battling them with his fishing rod silhouetted against the horizon.

Arthur, on the other hand, seems to find fishing for halibut frustrating and boring. It’s mostly waiting around. There is much more to be done when trolling. The downriggers have to be deployed, depths monitored, and the whole thing takes place while in motion. So Arthur was visibly disconsolate when Joe declared his desire to focus on halibut, but, since Joe and Jim were guests, he hunkered down and decided to just mess with rigging up new hook assemblies for some future trolling excursion.

We motored straight out to Diamond Point and parked there, and fished for halibut. Joe’s instincts worked out, this time, and we caught quite a few. Importantly, Joe got to hook a 60 pound halibut, much bigger than the other small ones, and hauled it in. It was actually impressive.
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Arthur actually rejected fishing at all, except a very brief stint at the end. Earlier, I took a third rod and fished instead. I even caught a halibut. I’d never caught one before. It was small. Mostly Jim and Joe did the catching. We did it all at Diamond Point, so from a navigational standpoint, the day was straightforward. The weather started quite calm but it was getting blowy by the time we decided to head in, around noon.

We caught a total of 10 halibut. Here they are, laid out on the deck, with Jim and Joe admiring them.

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I have had another depressing insight about why communication with Arthur breaks down for me (and I mean for me, specifically) so frequently.

It goes like this. Arthur’s default belief is that I’m incompetent. This isn’t precisely that he thinks badly of me, but rather, in his mind I’m frozen, developmentally, at around age 11 or so – at least as far as I can figure out. So then when I ask Arthur something, or make a statement, and he misunderstands me (which is the most common result, these days, either because of his hearing loss or his cognitive processing issues), he always misunderstands me in the direction of assuming that my question or statement is coming from the position of incompetence. I am not a particularly thick-skinned person. So of course my feelings get hurt by this insinuation of incompetence, which is further offensive because it’s based on a failure to understand what I’ve said.

It might help to give an example. Arthur prefers to dump the fish carcasses from a big haul far away from the dock, off in the middle of the bay somewhere. This is an established procedure, in which I’ve participated many times. I went to ask Arthur about if he wanted me to take the scraps out in the boat and dump them in the middle of the bay right away, or if he wanted to supervise that undertaking. He didn’t fully hear me, and of course he doesn’t remember ever doing that with me before (I’m still 11 years old, right?), so he immediately gets upset, because he’d already said that the fish carcasses needed to be dumped in the middle of the bay, and he starts explaining, defensively, in excessive detail, why he believes this to be important. All the while, becoming increasingly agitated by what he clearly perceived to be an obvious question that he’d answered before. But remember – I wasn’t questioning the procedure, I was merely trying to take initiative and see if he simply wanted me to do it, or if he didn’t trust me to do it.

Anyway, I walked away. And I did it.


Here is a rather large boat that passed us while we fished.

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Year-to-date totals:

  • Coho: 15
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 11
  • Other: 3
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 27
  • Downrigger weights left on the bottom of the sea: 1

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Caveat: Fishing Report #(n+26)

Art and I went out fishing today, accompanied by Joe and his friend Jim. It was a very long day, but quite mediocre in terms of results.

We launched a little before 7 AM.

We trolled from Tranquil point to Port Estrella, and tried for some halibut there. We moved northwestward to the center of Bucareli Bay, to a spot over a shallower underwater plateau there, and tried for halibut again. Jim caught the bottom and there was lots of spinning the boat around and yelling while we tried to get him loose – in the end, we broke the line and left his hook and weight at the bottom.

Then we crossed increasingly rough and windswept waters to the southwest corner of San Igancio Island, where we again tried for halibut, drifting northward with the wind, motoring south again, and drifting northward again.

That having proved fairly fruitless, we trolled through the passage on the west side of San Ignacio to that island’s north end. Nothing at all bit our hooks. We proceeded southeastward from there to Diamond Point (the southwest corner of San Juan Island), where Jim had had much luck with halibut a few days earlier. But nothing – though Joe hooked what he and I both believed was a “big one” that seemed to get away.

Then we gave up and went home.

I didn’t keep a very good mental record of where we caught our fishes, but in total Art got one “pink” salmon. I got one silver (coho) – which I caught, much to my own surprise, using a halibut hook. Joe got one smallish halibut and one healthy-sized ling-cod. Jim caught a tiny black bass that didn’t seem much larger than the bait it had swallowed. Art and I sent all the caught fish home with Joe and Jim.

After getting back to the house at just before 5 PM, Joe had his cooler with his small haul of fish, with the tail of one fish sticking out.

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Year-to-date totals:

  • Coho: 15
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 1
  • Other: 3
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 22
  • Downrigger weights left on the bottom of the sea: 1

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Caveat: Tree #930

This tree is the maple tree I’m trying to grow, in the kitchen window. It’s put out some new leaves, which gives me some small optimism.
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picture[daily log: walking, 3.5km; retailing, 6hr]

Caveat: Fishing Report #(n+25)

I’m a bit uncertain as to how to proceed, in the event Arthur goes out fishing but I don’t. This is my blog, not Arthur’s. So my gut intuition is not to include reports of his excursions. But I also wanted the fishing reports to be a log of our “take” and where we got results. So for that reason, I want to record it.

For the record, Arthur went out fishing today, with his brother Alan and with two guests – Joe (who has joined us before) and Joe’s friend Jim from Idaho. With the four of them, I felt that the boat would have been too crowded with me along, too, so I figured they would work it out, among themselves. I trusted Alan, Joe and his friend to competently take on my role as “safety officer.”

They caught three coho off San Ignacio Island. “All catching was done in the fog,” Alan summarized. They also caught a few small black bass and rockfish, thrown back.

Year-to-date totals:

  • Coho: 14
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 0
  • Other: 1
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 17
  • Downrigger weights left on the bottom of the sea: 1

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Caveat: Fishing Report #(n+24)

Arthur, Alan and I went out fishing.

The weather was good for fishing. Mostly overcast, but only a few sprinkles of rain and the sea was utterly flat.

There were a lot of boats out fishing. I didn’t see much action on the other boats, either, though.

We did a kind of circle: Black Beach (north end of San Juan Island), San Ignacio (up and down and up again), then Tranquil Point over to Caldera Bay. We caught one fish off the middle of San Ignacio (near Silvester). We didn’t catch any at the “hot spot” from last week, off Batan Point just west of Caldera Bay.

So it was a mostly disappointing day: we seem to be back to our one-fish-a-day quota.

Year-to-date totals:

  • Coho: 11
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 0
  • Other: 1
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 14
  • Downrigger weights left on the bottom of the sea: 1

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Caveat: Tree #917

This tree is another effort at trying to grow a maple tree. Along with the redwood, which I posted yesterday, I ordered a baby maple tree to make another go given my failed attempts at germination. It didn’t survive the week-long postal journey here as well as the redwood did – most of its leaves died. But it’s got a few. We’ll see how it does.
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picture[daily log: walking, 1.5km; errant erranding, 4hr]

Caveat: Tree #916

This tree is a coast redwood (sequoia sempervirens). I made an effort starting a few months ago to germinate some redwood seeds, but that effort ended in abject failure. So I decided to spend a bit more money, and buy a redwood sapling, which arrived on Monday. I have transplanted it into this little bucket with some potting soil, and will keep it in the greenhouse for now. Maybe it will survive.
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picture[daily log: walking, 3.5km; retailing, 6hr]

Caveat: Fishing Report #(n+22)

We went fishing today.

Arthur made more effort vis-a-vis communication than I’ve seen in awhile. Specifically, he told me yesterday, well ahead of time, that he wanted to go out fishing today.

This means a lot to me – it makes it possible for me to prepare myself mentally, to make sure I’m not in the middle of something stressful with my ongoing computer work (which is, frankly, traumatizing me lately). In fact, knowing we would go out today, I woke up extra early, did something relaxing instead of messing with the programming stuff, and even meditated for a while – something I should do more of.

So when we left at 7, I was more prepared than usual for dealing with Arthur’s laconic eccentricities. I made a lot of effort to be positive, and in fact, that helped. I’ve never wanted to deny that at least some of the issues and tension that arise between us on the boat is a result of my own shortcomings.

The water was flat and still when we left.

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By the time we exited Port Saint Nicholas, however, the wind had leaped into action and the water was quite choppy. We went to San Ignacio, again, and trolled up and down the east side, twice. Nothing.

We then went to Point Tranquil. There, we hooked a salmon who got away, but shortly after, hooked another. It seems that it was the same salmon, because the second salmon had a hook in it, which we’d lost in the first (though Arthur hadn’t realized it at the time).

There were no more salmon. But there were many boats. I suspect there were more boats than fish. It was Sunday, after all – many recreational boaters out, a hefty-looking research vessel of some kind, a boat with a flag indicating divers were beneath, a commercial fishing boat anchored and a family on the shore nearby. And lots of sportfishing craft.

We trolled along the north side of that arm of Prince of Wales Island to Caldera Bay, where we gave up on catching salmon – though they were leaping out of the water all around us. We fished for halibut for a while. Nothing there, either. Then we came home. Here’s the northwest corner of Caldera Bay, a spot called Point Lomas (you can click the pic to embiggen).

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Year-to-date totals:

  • Coho: 3
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 0
  • Other: 1
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 11
  • Downrigger weights left on the bottom of the sea: 1

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Caveat: Fishing Report #(n+21)

As is sometimes his custom, Arthur didn’t bother telling me that he wanted to go out fishing today until he’d already gotten everything in the boat and had decided he was ready to go. I had figured it out about fifteen minutes earlier, when I heard him start the motors – testing them. So at least I had my boots on.

And so we went.

We went to San Igancio, again. We caught one good-sized Coho, right away. This raised Arthur’s spirits, but it wasn’t to prove a meaningful omen. We remained fishless for the subsequent hours trolling up and down along the east side of San Ignacio. Then he wanted to go to “Real Marina,” which created a lot of confusion for me, because he meant Siketi Bay – one of his favorite places. But he’d forgotten the name and he’d forgotten I’d ever been fishing with him there, so communication about his intentions was complicated.

But we went to Siketi, finally, and caught one smallish bass in the passage between Lulu Island and Cone Island. By the time we got to the east side of Noyes Island, the swells off the open sea to the south were broad, and the wind was pushing the boat around. Also, the hose with sprayer attachment that pumps seawater, that he uses to clean off the back of the boat and fill the fish holding tank, was acting up (it has leaks, and the on/off switch is unreliable). So Arthur was kicking it, and it ended up spraying the inside of the cabin of the boat. My clothes got soaked with seawater. So then I was feeling cold and grumpy too.

So we gave up and headed home over very choppy seas, reaching the dock at about 2:30. All the way back, Arthur was very angry and as restless as a foul-mouthed teenager suffering from ADHD, because he’d lost the sheath to his knife that he uses to cut up fish. He kept looking for it over and over in the same places: glove box, storage cases under the back bench seats, etc. I suspect it ended up in the water because he likes to set things down on the gunwale, and with as bumpy as the water was, it may have descended into the sea.

Year-to-date totals:

  • Coho: 2
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 0
  • Other: 1
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 10
  • Downrigger weights left on the bottom of the sea: 1

Caveat: Frame Shop Journal #10

I took almost a month to post this, since the last one. There was a very slow period, when I wasn’t making many frames, in mid-June. But since then I’ve been making a lot of frames.

During the slow period, I did an “inventory” of our filing cabinet where we store vendor information and catalogs. As part of that, I made new labels for the chaotic folders.

Before.

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After.

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Here are bunch of frames, in no particular order.

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I had one new frame that was a bit bittersweet. A customer bought a picture on our wall, that I’d framed last November. She said, “But that frame is ugly, I want a different one.” So I had to take apart a frame I’d made last fall, and make a new one.

Before.

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After.

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One time, we got in a frame from our supplier that was clearly a horrible mistake. We had to re-order it.

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I also spent some time teaching myself how to cut curves in glass. It’s not easy, even though Arthur claims it’s easy – although I’ll observe that Arthur didn’t bother to demonstrate this for me. I did borrow his fancy diamond-tipped glass-cutting tool, which is better than the hand-held glass cutter at the store.

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Caveat: Fishing Report #(n+20)

Well, we went out fishing this morning.

In a way, I’m surprised I went along. A part of me wanted to just tell Arthur to go ahead and go out on his own – I’m not sure that he would have, but it seems possible.

In the end, some weird welling-up of a vague, Confucian-like sense of obligation made me agree to go. The Koreans call it 효 [hyo: 孝], which is translated as “filial piety.” I don’t know where I came by it – I suppose through some kind of cultural osmosis, having lived there all those years.

We had a serious talk about trying to communicate better, first, before going out – but the talk itself was fraught with the kind of issues that have been bothering me. He denies not paying attention, if that makes any sense. He doesn’t recall ever having used sarcasm inappropriately or dismissing my concerns. To conclude: “Anyway. Whatever.”

But we went out. It went better than last time, at least. He was making a sincere effort, within the constraints of his personality. I had told him quite explicitly, I’m not angry that he’s not showing gratitude – he does, in fact, show gratitude and generosity with me regularly. But that isn’t the same as giving a damn about what I have to say, or bothering to pay attention to find out what I’m trying to communicate.

Well, we went over to San Ignacio and ran into Art’s friend and sometime fishing companion, Jeff (in another boat, trolling the other way). We had a shouted conversation with him, boat to boat. And after a while, roughly at the southeast corner of San Ignacio Island, we caught exactly one (1) fish. So we’re not skunked for the season.

There’s some terrible irony – not to say outright tragedy – that “going fishing” is the single most stressful, dreaded aspect of my life here in Alaska. For most people, including Arthur, going fishing is fun, if not the actual goal of life. I’ve always been a bit neutral with respect to the practice of going fishing – it’s never been a strong pleasure for me. But there was a time when I did enjoy going out in the boat. I enjoy boating around, I enjoy the scenery, I enjoy being out “in the world.” But at this point, the emotional and interactive aspects of the venture, functioning in my role as Arthur’s wheelman and protege, overwhelm any pleasure I could take from it.

Actually, I sometimes very much wonder what exactly Arthur finds so fulfilling about going fishing. He doesn’t really seem, to the outside observer, to be enjoying himself. His mood tends to vacillate between long stretches of transparent boredom and brief explosions of frustration and anger when things aren’t going his way – which seems like so much of the time, these days.

I believe Arthur doesn’t actually enjoy the act of fishing, but rather, he yearns for some Platonic “state of having caught fish.” Which is to say, he enjoys it only after the fact, and only if the venture has been successful. And he’s not generous with his definition of success – today, for example, was not in any way successful.

I once said that my feeling toward fishing is similar to my feeling toward gambling: it seems like putting one’s mood in hands of random fate, which is not quite the way to achieve any kind of consistent happiness. On Arthur’s approach, that is certainly true.

Year-to-date totals:

  • Coho: 1
  • Kings: 0
  • Halibut: 0
  • Other: 0
  • Too-small fish sent home to mama: 10
  • Downrigger weights left on the bottom of the sea: 1
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