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| Modern charter out of Depoe Bay, OR |
in Incessant Expectations
by Kenneth Fenter
Jim Howard lands on the Oregon coast at Wincester Bay, 4 miles south of Reedsport, Oregon. He is eager to catch a salmon. To date he has caught only trout in the clear streams of the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. Until a month before they had averaged less than 10 inches long. During the two weeks before leaving Colorado he had managed to learn to catch larger trout in the Dolores River, trout up to 18 and 20 inches on dry flies and light weight tackle.
He signs onto the McPherson Charters the next day after his arrival, the early morning run. It is for four hours or the boat's limit of 3 fish per passenger or 18 fish for the 6 passengers. Fish have been biting.
Except for Grandma’s first chinook, the rest of the catches were much smaller silvers. Jim was encouraged by the rest of the crew, especially from the grandma who had caught five fish by now. “You must not be holding your mouth right,” she suggested.
Jim grinned at this. It was his Uncle Ed’s favorite excuse for anything that didn’t work out right.
Another hour passed.
The boat bobbed on the ocean, lifting with the swells and dipping with the troughs. The sun was out now, and it was much warmer than when they had left the shore. Jim removed the poncho and waited. The fish had quit biting. Everyone had fallen silent. They placed their rods in the pipe holders in front of their chairs and relaxed.
Johnny poured coffee for anyone who wanted it. The boat plowed back and forth searching.
Jim watched the constant motion of the ocean as it rose and fell in long easy rounded hills and valleys. He began to notice garbage floating by: Styrofoam fragments from floats and coffee cups, plastic bottles, and beer cans. The surface was cut occasionally with a path of floating seaweed that Johnny called a rip tide. Jelly fish floated by and hundreds of birds either floated on the waves or sped by in flocks. Other charter boats and fishing boats had joined them and ploughed along a short distance away. Occasionally, one, taking a cue from the birds perhaps, pulled in lines and sped off in another direction.
The sea was calm, except for the wake from a departing boat that caused the McPherson I to rock repeatedly for a while.
Jim was hypnotized by the constant motion.
On the sea.
On the boat.
In front of him.
His head felt dizzy.
He felt panicky and a little queasy.
He looked around, helplessly. He would have traded all the salmon in the ocean for a bathroom. Johnny handed him a plastic pail. His gut erupted into the bucket. Everyone else looked away sympathetically. He had shamefully branded himself.
The two pills Hattie had given him that morning were still in his pocket.
Jim retched several more times, and he felt better. Johnny handed him a cloth so he could wipe his mouth, and then handed him a cup of coffee. Jim took a drink and started to thank the First Mate, but his rod suddenly straightened and the line began to zing out of his reel.
“Fish on!” Grandma yipped.
The captain cut the throttle and Johnny stepped forward to assist.
His seasickness was forgotten. He handed Johnny the coffee cup, grabbed the rod out of the holder and began to reel and haul.
Incessant Expectations by Kenneth Fenter autographed copies available at arborwoodpress.comhttp://arborwoodpress.com print and kindle books available at amazon.com and books online everywhere worldwide.
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