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narrative essay
Brad King 01/22/10 WR121 The Day of the Dory The flash of lightning temporarily illuminates an otherwise unlit landscape. We are the only set of headlights for miles and the relentless rain and booming thunder add to the loneliness to the point it becomes almost creepy. My wife is terrified. “What the hell are we doing?” she questions demandingly. “Today is obviously not a good day for this.” she adds. “Oh we’ll be fine.” I reassure her. “I’ve done this a million times.” It is four a.m. in rural northwest Oregon and my wife and I are headed for a “spur of the moment” fishing trip in Pacific City, Oregon. We got a phone call late the night before from my cousin Anthony inviting us to go salmon fishing in the Pacific Ocean with him on his dory (flat-bottomed boat) the Daydreamer. This is a unique opportunity because Pacific City has no docks or boat ramps. Therefore, the only way to get the boat into the ocean is to physically push it through the crashing waves (hence the flat bottomed-boat) to deep water until the motor can be started and then it can be driven through the deeper surf and out to open water. The ride back to shore is simpler. We just head back through the surf towards shore and kill the engine right before we hit the beach and slide up on the sand. Millions of people have been fishing on a boat in the ocean, but only a small percent have had the opportunity to experience a day on the ocean in a dory. We arrive at our predetermined meeting place on the beach and step out of the car to stretch our legs and breathe a sigh of relief from the stress of a long eerie car ride. The smell of salty sea air and the sounds of roaring waves, and the dull moans of the local buoy bring back some of my most cherished childhood memories. I practically grew up here, fishing in the ocean often. For my wife it is a new experience, but one I believe she will not soon forget. We say our hellos and discuss the current weather situation of lightning and rain and decide that it’s a perfect day to get out on the water. My wife is skeptical of the whole lightning and water situation but we assure her that she is safe with us. She reluctantly surrenders to our reassurances and agrees to join us in the boat. Today we will be fishing for Coho salmon and sea bass. There is also the possibility of catching: Chinook salmon, ling cod, sharks, eels, skates, and many other ocean dwelling species. It is also not uncommon to see migrating whales and bay porpoises. We are expecting a good day of fishing. Other fishermen in the area have reported great fishing with full limits of three salmon per person per day. Sea bass fishing has been hit and miss, but our main focus is salmon so any sea bass will just be a bonus. As we load up our gear and prep the boat for launching I start to get that nervous little flutter in my stomach. No matter how many times I do this, it is always just as exciting. Today the waves are relatively small and spaced out. Some days the ocean doesn’t cooperate and the waves are too dangerous to tackle, so each time we plan one of these trips it doesn’t always work out. Today it worked out and I couldn’t be happier, not just for myself, but also for my wife who is about to experience such a special trip. The process of launching the boat takes two people in hip waders, one to launch the boat and park the truck and the other to push the boat through the waves. I get the job of driver, so I slowly back the boat and trailer into the surf. As the boat and trailer reach a depth of water that the boat can float in I mash the brakes, shift the truck into a forward gear and stomp on the throttle. The quick stop and sudden change of direction slides the boat off the trailer and I hurriedly park the truck on among rows of other fishermen’s vehicles. While I am parking and rushing back to the boat my cousin has spun the boat around in the shallow surf and holds it there, pointed out to sea so that the waves crash and roll under the bow of the boat which is slightly curved upward. I make my way to the boat and climb in using a step at the back of the boat that is made to aid in entering the boat from the water. I take my place at the captain’s helm while Anthony slowly pushes the boat from behind. He peeks around the back corner of the boat watching oncoming waves and setting his feet sturdily in the sand to brace against the impact of each wave that breaks over the bow. As larger waves roll under the boat he times them just right and jumps, holding his upper body out of the water until the swell has passed. Inside the boat each wave that hits the boat sends a spray of cool salty sea water over us. It’s all part of the experience. There is a sense of wildness as we slowly tackle each wave, all the while getting further and further from the safety and security of dry land. This is the point of no turning back. The goal is to now reach water that is deep enough to safely lower and start the outboard motor. “Fire it up.” Our fearless leader shouts at me over the roar of waves. This is the most dangerous point of our trip. Anthony is only inches from the propeller when I fire it up and if he gets to close it will rip his legs to shreds. There is also the danger of him tripping or a large wave sneaking up on him, because he has waterproof hip waders on and if too much water gets in them he will not be able to hold himself above water. The engine is running smoothly and the water depth is perfect for a swift take off so with one last effort he heaves himself up and over the back of the boat. “Full throttle ahead!” He directs. The launch has been text book and in a matter of a few minutes we are outside of the surf line and on the open ocean. Fishing is only part of the joy in being on the ocean. There is a variety of wildlife from seals to seabirds including seagulls, puffins, pelicans, loons and several others which I can’t identify. Many of these birds make their home on a giant rock that protrudes from the sea about a half mile off shore. It’s called the haystack rock and as we idle past it the pungent odor of bird droppings is almost unbearable. It looks beautiful from shore, but up close you realize the light gray color of the rock is the result of centuries of birds defecating on what is actually a very dark black rock. “That is gross,” my wife comments, “I would never have guessed it would smell like this.” As I ponder my first experience here I recall having the same thought. Just after passing the haystack rock we motor past a big red buoy, a warning system for passing boats to mark the rock and the end of Cape Kiwanda which extends out into the ocean for a few hundred yards. The cape is actually what allows the boats to launch here because of the protection it provides from stronger southerly ocean currents. The buoy bobs and rolls with each passing swell, letting out a distinctive sluggish groan with each rise and fall. Occasionally passing sea lions will stop to rest and bathe in the sun on the buoys lower platform, but today it is vacant. As we reach a water depth of one hundred and fifty feet (or twenty-five fathoms in nautical terms) we begin fishing. It starts out slow but soon we start to pick up a few fish here and there. We try to turn and pass back through areas where we catch fish in hopes of passing through the same schools as fish usually travel in groups. With the modern day technology of a GPS we are able to mark positions and return back to that exact spot. We continue this for a few hours, slowly filling the fish box with fresh, bright silver salmon. The ocean is calm and with no wind the water takes on a glossy look. Days like this are rare on the Pacific Ocean. By the time we catch our limit of Coho salmon we are exhausted from hours of reeling in some of the strongest fish in the ocean. The idea of having some fresh sea bass for dinner is tempting but we are all tired and satisfied with our current catch so we make a synonymous decision to head back to shore. Besides, even compared with the excitement of the boat ride out and catching fish the landing process is the best part. Landing the boat also has it dangers. If we hit the beach too fast we will slide across the wet sand and hit dry sand, and if we hit dry sand we will stop very suddenly and we could be thrown from the boat. There is also the risk of hitting beach goers or surfers. As we come into shore through the surf the large swells can sometimes block the view ahead. In fact the boat and captain we are with hit a young surfer last summer on this same beach. The boats propeller actually severed this young mans arm at the elbow. Luckily there was a doctor on the beach and the boys arm was recovered and placed on ice. It was successfully reattached at a hospital later that day and the boy continues to recover. This event caused an up roar in the local community about the rights of boaters and surfers to use certain areas of the beach. But in the end no lines were drawn and the use of the beach still requires a combination of awareness and etiquette. As we get close to entering the surf we motor back and forth a few times, running parallel to the shore to survey the beach and its occupants. We pick our line and turn towards shore. There is no turning back now. Every wave we drop off leads to another, each one seeming to steal my stomach from my body. I would compare it to the sudden drop you experience on some theme park rides. With one last burst of throttle to thrust us onto the beach he kills the engine and races to the back of the boat to raise the outboard propeller so it doesn’t drag in the sand. It is a finely planned dance of timing and precision and there is a certain matter of pride for a captain in a graceful landing. The boat hits the beach perfectly and we slide across the sand like children on a toboggan. “That was so much fun my.” wife exclaimed. “Let’s do it again.” She says jokingly. I have been on many theme park rides, but none of them compare to the ride we’ve just taken. There is something about the wildness of the ocean and the raw nature of the experience. I will forever be grateful for the opportunity I have had to take part in such a rare tradition, and especially for the day I got to share it with the woman I love.
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