OUT OF THE WILD

IN SEARCH OF SUSTAINABLE SALMON, ONE WRITER FOLLOWED HER FISH ON AN EPIC JOURNEY FROM SEA TO PLATE.

- KIM CROSS

ON A LONELY SKIFF IN BRISTOL BAY, a 5-pound salmon thrashes under my gloves as I wrestle it out of the gill net. It's 10 p.m. in Alaska, where I've joined a crew of three aboard the Baby Seal, a 23-foot commercial fishing boat. The sockeye, still chrome-bright from the sea, glitters under the setless sun. Its mouth gapes, and a gold-and-black eye meets mine.

"Grab it by the head-you can pull it through this way," says Corey Arnold, captain of the Baby Seal. My hand shaking, I jam my thumb in a notch behind the gills. With my other hand, I slide a metal pick between fish and net, prying it through.

Slimy and flapping, the salmon feels like a greased, oceangoing piglet in my novice hands. My heart is racing, and my tendons scream. When it finally pops free, I fumble, and it flops around my boots. I pick it up and muster the next awful step: I thread my finger through a feathery ring of gills-and rip.

Blood spills onto my gloves and drips down my bibs. Thisbleeding out-must happen to every animal we eat. Skip this step, and the flesh will taste bad. But doing it rakes me inside, the same pain I feel when my kid skins his knee.

"Your first fish!" a crewmate chirps. I smile, fighting tears.

Quietly, so the crew won't hear, I whisper the thing I say to every trout I land on a fly rod: "Thank you, fish!" This is one moment of truth on my yearlong quest: to learn the provenance of my salmon. The searing revelation of this moment? Whatever I pay in the store. it's worth it! Salmon fishing is hard.

My journey began in a grocery store near my home in Boise, Idaho. News of declining salmon runs had me anxious about what kind of salmon to buy, or whether to eat it at all. I wanted to be an informed consumer, to research my options and make a choice that reconciled my values and my budget.