I figured out that the last time I gutted a fish was in 1993 at Sprouce Coulee in Cypress Hills Provincial Park, Alberta Canada.
I was dating and living with my then Park Ranger and we'd gone camping near his parents, on the banks of this gorgeous lake.
We borrowed his dad's canoe and were the only ones on the water. I don't remember it being summer, but it was sunny and warm. I have a photo somewhere of him paddling at the end of the canoe, it was like an Indian canoe, quite wide and deep. He then took a photo of me lounging back reading the latest Bon Appetit and Gourmet. Occasionally I'd look over the side and trail my hand across the surface of the water. Out the back I could see his spinners trawling through the water and occasionally a fish chasing madly after it.
We caught fish that day and I gutted my first fish. We were the only ones there and bbqed our fish over the fire we lit when the sun started to go down.
Today the story isn't quite so romantic. The fish were already dead when I bought them but I did gut them myself. Some things you just never forget.
2 comments:
I love that story. I was picturing you with every word. What a great skill to have. I think if I had to kill my own meat, I'd only be able to eat seafood. Perhaps gutting is a skill I should pick up... x
such a lovely memory...
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