It was a warm and sunny summer day in Valdez, a small
town in Alaska. I was fishing on the dock by myself. Honestly, I was busy watching the whole, wild and fabulous view of Alaska, more than the fishes. There
wasn’t anyone or anything on the dock except a forgotten bucket and a camp
chair. After a while I heard beep-beeps of a vehicle’s rear transmission. I looked
back and saw an adorable RV was parking next to the dock. “Retired and Gone
Fishing” articles suddenly appeared before my eyes on the back of the RV which made
me smile. But this smile suddenly changed in to a big surprise on my face and “Ohh
my God!” the words slipped unconsciously from my lips when I saw the plate number
of the RV. It had come from Florida. But how long does it take to drive from
Florida to Alaska? Actually this was my second question to the old, retired
and mysterious driver of the RV.
He got out of the vehicle and walked to his camp chair with short steps a fishing line in his hand. The sun light was making him squint but he was trying to keep them open to watch his steps on the wet, wooden dock. Irresistibly this made him look older than he was cause of
the deep and shadow filled wrinkles on his face. He walked towards to his
camp chair, checked the bucket and began to prepare his fishing line. I don’t
remember how many minutes I impatiently waited to talk with him. I showed him the fish on my line and asked if
he knew the name of it. Both of us observed, this was a “starting
conversation” question and both of us were glad to start a conversation. He did
not even look at the fish, tenderly looked ,in to my eyes and answered "Pink Salmon".
He was 75 (triple my age) and both his body and his speech
were proof of that. His hands were rough and his white skin had gone darker, later I learned the reason, when he was a young man he had worked in the orange fields of Florida all day long maybe 40C degree and above, and 90%
humidity, for only 5 dollars a day. He was a little bit surprised, however
glad, to know about my 5 dollars per hour salaried job in Florida, when I told him. While we were fishing; lots of clouds passed over head, the sky changed
color many times, a few poor salmon has ended their lives in a bucket, dock
turned to dry and the sun kept its place above us as it always does, all summer
long in Alaska. We talked about money and needs. We talked about the
places where we grew up. And soon we talked about the reasons that made us come fishing alone.
Eight years ago, when I completed my marketing workshop at the University of Central Florida; I was looking for more. After a couple days I found myself on a long road trip with a pack of my
colleagues in Alaska and had caught the chance to meet Albert Morris and
listen to his fifteen days long driving story from Florida to Alaska from the horse's mouth.
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| Valdez Harbour, Alaska |
