Oh yeh, this is what i'm talking about!
One of the most interesting aspects of living on a boat is the idea, the very dream, of hunting for your food.
Most people know this by the more common name, fishing.
I love seafood. All kinds of seafood. I don’t include the freezer version of deep sea something, the despicable fish stick. Give me instead a BBQ dog fish skewer marinated in a savory lemon sauce.
But now, for those who dream, imagine a fresh salmon, bright and silver, just caught from the cold Canadian waters. Silvery scales adorn the deck, thick fillets are placed in the cooler. Back at anchorage, in an hour, the fish becomes the dinner special. Cooked lightly to perfection, a masterpiece of flavor over a bed of rice, or perhaps left seasoned to Poke, savored on rice crackers adorned with goat cheese, perfect for a movie night, snuggled in bed.
Less then six hours from line caught to dinner plate. There really isn’t anything compared to it.
Are you fortunate to have the fisherman in the family, out early hours to catch the silvery fish and fill the freezer with wonderful salmon?
That’s wonderful, but not what I’m talking about. We have no freezer for long term storage. We catch only what we can eat.
Living on a boat, fishing together, heading for a safe anchorage to clean and cook what the two of us have caught, that’s what I’m talking about.
We have harvested crab, salmon, dog fish and shrimp. All from our home.
If you have had the pleasure to hike in the backcountry, do a little fishing, bringing the fish back to a fire and enjoying a good meal, you can begin to imagine what it is like for us.
Our boat, our home, is our camp. In this small respect, we are once again the hunter-gatherers, like our ancestors. True, it isn’t just like them. After all, in 24 hours, we can resupply with frozen goods and canned delights.
But for a little bit, in our own world, we can share something with all those who have come before us.
We can fish, we can catch, and we can eat what we catch.
What more can seagoing fishermen hope for?
Most people know this by the more common name, fishing.
I love seafood. All kinds of seafood. I don’t include the freezer version of deep sea something, the despicable fish stick. Give me instead a BBQ dog fish skewer marinated in a savory lemon sauce.
But now, for those who dream, imagine a fresh salmon, bright and silver, just caught from the cold Canadian waters. Silvery scales adorn the deck, thick fillets are placed in the cooler. Back at anchorage, in an hour, the fish becomes the dinner special. Cooked lightly to perfection, a masterpiece of flavor over a bed of rice, or perhaps left seasoned to Poke, savored on rice crackers adorned with goat cheese, perfect for a movie night, snuggled in bed.
Less then six hours from line caught to dinner plate. There really isn’t anything compared to it.
Are you fortunate to have the fisherman in the family, out early hours to catch the silvery fish and fill the freezer with wonderful salmon?
That’s wonderful, but not what I’m talking about. We have no freezer for long term storage. We catch only what we can eat.
Living on a boat, fishing together, heading for a safe anchorage to clean and cook what the two of us have caught, that’s what I’m talking about.
We have harvested crab, salmon, dog fish and shrimp. All from our home.
If you have had the pleasure to hike in the backcountry, do a little fishing, bringing the fish back to a fire and enjoying a good meal, you can begin to imagine what it is like for us.
Our boat, our home, is our camp. In this small respect, we are once again the hunter-gatherers, like our ancestors. True, it isn’t just like them. After all, in 24 hours, we can resupply with frozen goods and canned delights.
But for a little bit, in our own world, we can share something with all those who have come before us.
We can fish, we can catch, and we can eat what we catch.
What more can seagoing fishermen hope for?
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