I'm Back

…but you probably didn’t even know I was gone, did you?

Once again, I spent a weekend without an internet connection, but posting has been sporadic here lately, so you probably didn’t even notice anything different.

I did not waste the downtime. I shopped for a new fridge, primed a deck, washed and waxed the car, cleaned a bookshelf, whipped up four kitchen towels from an old tablecloth, read a book, and listened to What is the Gospel? by Don Carson, taking some notes which I will post here either tonight or tomorrow.

I’ll post the Sunday hymn later, too, but right now there is a chair on the deck with my name on it.

Sin's Round

Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am,
That my offences course it in a ring.
My thoughts are working like a busy flame,
Until their cockatrice they hatch and bring:
And when they once have perfected their draughts,¹
My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts.

My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts,
Which spit it forth like the Sicilian hill.²
They vent their wares, and pass them with their faults,
And by their breathing ventilate the ill.
But words suffice not, where are lewd intentions:
My hands do join to finish the inventions.

My hands do join to finish the inventions:
And so my sins ascend three stories high,
As Babel grew, before there were dissentions.
Let ill deeds loiter not: for they supply
New thoughts of sinning: wherefore, to my shame,
Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am.

—-George Herbert 

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¹At Christian Classics Ethereal Library they define draught as

[d]rawing or pulling. The act of pulling, as with horses…. The act of pulling a net to catch fish or birds. Also the catch from the net.

I’d think it more likely means “a current of air,” since, for one thing, the word is not used as a verb here, but a noun, and for another, Herbert is referring to starting a fire. What say ye?

² According to CCEL, this refers to Mount Etna.

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George Herbert poetry posted previously: 

• COLOSSIANS III. 3.
• The Flower
• THE SONNE
• SINNE
• CHRISTMAS
• LOVE-JOY
• PRAYER

They Shoot Halibut, Don't They?

or Saturday’s Old Photo on Wednesday.

 

Saturday’s have been busy, so I’ve skipped the old photo post for the last few weeks. But I miss writing those posts, so this week we’ll have an old photo on Wednesday. Sorry if that messes with your rigid blog reading schedule.

This is a photo of hubby and his oldest and best friend Steve, who lives in Petersburg, Alaska. The picture was taken in August, sometime in the 1990s, but don’t press me for the exact year. As you can see, they’ve been halibut fishing, something they did together every August, if they could manage it. Keith, and anyone else from the family who was free, would travel by road to Skagway and by ferry to Petersburg for a visit with Steve and his family.

Steve owns a nice little skiff and the fishing is always good in Petersburg. The halibut hanging there in the middle was Keith’s catch. It weighed 124 lbs, and was the largest a halibut, according the guys on the wharf, that had been brought in so far that year.

A halibut has very little waste, so a 124-pound halibut fills two very large coolers with filleted steaks, enough to serve halibut once a week to a family of six for a whole year.  Halibut, in case you’ve not tasted it, is a mild tasting, white meat fish. That means almost no one hates it, although those of us who grew up eating northern pike find it a little too unfishy and prefer the more oily fish with a stronger taste, like salmon.

The year after this photo was taken, the trip to Petersburg resulted in an even larger catch—a 147 pound halibut—but the claim to bragging rights for that one was contested. Keith hooked what he thought was a big one and asked Steve, fishing on the other side of the skiff, for help bringing it in. But just as Steve started to come over, he hooked a big one, too. So they had to work independently to bring in their big fish, each doing the fish and fisherman fighting dance required to get the really big ones.

At some point in the process, they noticed that when Keith’s fish was out, Steve was bringing his fish in; and when Steve fish was out, Keith could bring his fish in. Yep, the big guy (or girl, since the big ones are usually female) had gone for the bait on both lines and they’d each hooked it. It was one big fish caught on two lines, something that helped them eventually get it to the boat. Replaying it afterwards, they came to the conclusion that having the fish hooked on both lines was they only way they would have been able to bring in a 147 pound fighting fish.

Replaying it afterwards, they worked out the perfect plan for divying up the bragging rights, too: In Petersburg, the fish was Steve’s catch; in Whitehorse, it was Keith’s.

And in answer to the question in the title, yes, they shoot halibut, at least the big ones. That halibut are almost all meat means they are almost all muscle, and 100 pounds of flopping fish muscle can break bones. So fishermen either club halibut with a flying gaff while they are still in the water, or if they are really big, they shoot them.

Update on Thursday, July 19, 2007 at 2:21PM by rebecca

Here is a photo of Chris’s halibut (see comments), caught last Friday. It measured out at around 150 pounds. Chris is on the left photo and his brother-in-law is on the right.

And now you see what the other side of a halibut looks like.