Page 42 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

While Quinn scrambles into position, I try to reel in the King but he’s like lightning, and powerful, fighting hard. I try to get control of the line while Quinn follows Lexie’s orders to chase the fish with the boat.

“We gotta close the distance,” she says over the roar of the river.

The fish takes off across the river, and Quinn ducks as my line swings around.

Lexie’s helping me and I’m trying to follow her commands, though mostly I’m trying not to get pulled into the water. Quinn is rowing hard to help give me reeling advantage, but the fish is like a runaway train. He jumps, his metallic scales flashing in the sun, then dives, my line angling deep. It’s the wildest, most intense game of chase I’ve ever played. Finally, my biceps burning with exhaustion, my King leaps again, then darts behind a large rock mid-river. My line goes taut.

“Quinn, hold us here,” Lexie orders.

“Got it!” he calls back.

“All right, we can’t just winch him out of that hole. He’s too heavy,” she says, her tone full of confidence. “We’re gonna make him work a bit. Lower your rod to the side but angle it to ninety degrees.”

By now, my shoulders are on fire and there’s blood coming from somewhere, but I do as she says, maintaining the tension from the fish on the other end.

“That’s it,” she says. “Now reel in a few clicks.”

It’s a challenge, but I get two.

“Now, move him upstream. Keep that nice bend in your rod.”

Yeah right. It’s like dragging a sandbag up a flight of stairs. My line is going to snap at any moment.

“Here he comes!” Lexie shouts as the resistance eases and the fish emerges from behind the rock.

Quickly, I reel in another click, the tension holding steady. My arms are still straining, burning. I’m breathing like I’m sparring with Bruce Lee.

The fish enters shallower water and his bulbous head breaks through the surface, plying the current. Keeping the pressure steady, I move the fish farther into the shallow riffle. My arms shake with fatigue.

“Come on, Dawson!” Quinn cries.

Lexie clambers in close behind me and grasps my rod to help steady me. “Go ahead and reel him in a few clicks. Nice and steady.”

The feel of her nimble body against mine is as intoxicating as the fish’s powerful resistance.

“Beautiful,” Lexie says, her breaths quick. “A few more.”

Finally, with my arms shaking, the fish gets close enough for Lexie to jump over the side with her extra-big net, splashing water everywhere.

He’s so huge she can barely get him curled into the net.

“Hey, mama,” she coos. With one quick flick of her wrist, she slides the hook free.

Mama? I look closer at the fish’s bright silver coloring and the way her abdomen is plump with eggs.

A fierce reverence dominates Lexie’s gaze. “She’s on her way home. You want to send her off?”

While Quinn holds the boat, I scramble out of the raft. The swift current swirls around my shins and the cobbled river bottom makes for tricky footing, but I manage to squat down and plunge my hands into the icy water. The fish is so thick and muscular, and slippery. I think about how many threats she’s survived during her life in order to return here. Home.

While Lexie takes a photo, I cradle the giant salmon gently just under the water. Her gills feather and her powerful tail strains against my hold, ready to leap and swim.

Have I harmed her with my hook, drained energy she needs to continue her journey?

I lower the net and release her. With a flick of her nose, she snaps away and darts downstream.

With the cold current tugging at my legs and the roar of the river in my ears, I watch her melt into the depths. Lexie takes the net from me, our fingers brushing. I gaze into her bright eyes and grin, my heart so full. She laughs and I pull her into a soft hug.

I savor the soft greens of the valley and breathe in the clean, sweet scent of the river, and the feel of her in my arms.

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