Screeching, Squirming and Screaming: Crabbing and Fishing in Oregon, Part II

Last week I started photo-journaling my first fishing experience. I left off in the waiting period, which is pretty much what this type of non-casting fishing is all about.

While drifting around in one set of coordinates without any luck, our fisherman Dave got on his cell phone. Yes, I said cell phone. Here we are, on the Columbia River, caressing through the misty Oregon air and Dave chats it up with another fisherman, finding salmon in another set of coordinates.

We brought in our reels and Dave (above) drove us to a new area. (PS-You can totally hire Dave to help you find fish.) Forty-five seconds later Greg, our event organizer, started screaming. A salmon hooked onto Nick’s line. Greg screamed for everyone to reel in their lines, for fear Nick’s catch would tangle other lines. Within another 45 seconds, a 12-inch salmon wriggled in the hands of Nick and Dave. Cameras snapped and the salmon soon returned to the water, for it wasn’t a native fish and it wasn’t the right time of year and salmon politics are awfully complicated.

The excitement hung in the air for another few minutes as we eagerly awaited another catch in our new sexy coordinates.

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Screeching, Squirming and Screaming: Crabbing and Fishing in Oregon, Part I

I screeched and squirmed and well, fine, flat out screamed really, really loudly. Like reeeeal fucking loud. But it was okay. It was just the six of us on the Columbia River, with only a few seals popping up through the chilly water.

And maybe some cranes. Pelicans? Well, I’m not sure. This fishing excursion marked my first time in Oregon and I didn’t properly prepare for bird sightings. Or really, for fishing and crabbing in general. For it was my first time at this too. The only other time I’ve played with a fishing reel was on my friends’ balcony, for they lower the keys down from their 6th floor apartment to incoming guests. It’s pretty fun, but Tim doesn’t let me near the reel all that often. I’m not gentle on the line.

The six of us drove from Portland to Astoria (check out this gorgeous, sea lion and Goonie-filled town on FB), drank lovely beer at Fort George Brewery + Public House and went to bed early.

I just had to: here’s one glamour shot of Astoria.

Don’t let the lighting fool you. I snapped this when we returned from fishing, around noon, but the picture is here to move the plot along. Imagine this is all misty.

Kind of like this, actually. We’re just taking off and I’m sitting right behind these crates of bait. It’s cold out and my rain jacket doubled as a blanket.

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