The creaking of the rowlocks, the shrill cry of the gulls and the surging of the waves accompany us as we row. We examine and empty nets of slender flounder and bladder-wrack. At a depth of four metres, the varying fauna can be seen passing by. We smoke the fish with alder woodchips and juniper twigs.

More than 30 years have passed since my father and I fished for flounder in Nagu. Fishing in silence was one of our ways of communicating with each other. Later, communication and environmental activism became my profession.