Fingers Crossed.

You know it’s going to be a day of adventure when the first thing your dad says when starting the boat is: “I hope the batteries didn’t die. Fingers crossed.”

Fingers crossed indeed. Today was the day we were supposed to fish and then pull the boat out of the water for winter. Best hope the batteries aren’t dead.

And guess what? Batteries didn’t die.

So, after starting the boat, we motored out about 24 miles to our final destination.

“Destination” would be a secret set of coordinates that looked an awful lot like the middle of nowhere.

Middle of nowhere is often the best place to fish, and sure enough, my dad had fished the spot a few weeks before and came home with a ‘but load of fish (pun always intended).

And so, in the crisp morning air, we set out our lines and waited for the fish to bite.

Fingers crossed.

As luck would have it, the fish were biting. More particularly, they were biting my hook because not ten minutes in, I was pulling in the big boys.

20 pounder.

30 pounder.

Dare I say 40 pounder?

Pole dug deep into the crevasse of my hip, and left arm bent at an angle best suited for reeling in the the combined weight of the fish/current/depth, we managed to catch our limit within an hour and a half.

Now that’s some fishing for you.

Back at the harbor, as we’re pulling the boat out for the season, I notice a sea otter bobbing by us.

It wasn’t moving and my initial thought was, “Oh my gosh is it dead?”

So I went to check on him.

Fingers crossed.

He was alive (thank the Lord), just taking a mid afternoon siesta in the sea.

Once we got the boat out, we hit the road out of Homer, in search of lunch in nearby Ninilchik.

As we’re driving, the truck starts to slow down.

If you’ve never been to Homer before, there’s this big hill.

It’s lengthly, double lane, and a wee bit steep.

And our aged F150 pickup towing a 14,000 pound boat? It was too much for truckee to handle.

Because all of a sudden, the truck came to a stuttering stop.

In the middle of the Sterling Highway.

On a hill. On the very steep hill.

Uh oh.

And so, for the fourth time that day, we tried to start the car, you guessed it, with fingers crossed.

Unfortunately, our luck had run out because the truck did not start.

And so, we sat in the car, stuck on the Sterling Highway, on a hill, on a Sunday.

To which I say holy moly!

Anyhoo, we wound up getting a tow allllllllll the way from Soldotna by a guy named Buddy.

I have to say, despite things going terribly wrong there at the end, the day as a whole was productive and enjoyable.

And we all made it home safely.

Even the boat.

Fingers crossed…