Sunday, October 15, 2006 — When the 5 p.m. opening fell upon us, we were right off Point Madison, which isn’t a bad starting point. I decided to blow off the unobtainable meeting with Fawn John, and instead slap it out where we were. The girls raised much protest, but I explained the tiny chop that was bouncing the boat so ferociously as we bucked into it would barely be noticeable when we were hanging on the end of the net. And miraculously, by the time the net was out and the engine finally shut off for the first time in hours and hours, it calmed down to just a ripple.
With the calming of the sea, the girls came out of their hiding spots like hornets from hibernation. Their stomachs were empty, so they filled them once again with Top Ramen while they played a game of chess. When we picked up the net they helped pick fish out and toss them into the hatch. We had 30 fish our first set, which lent to much excitement from the 11-year-old girls.
The second set was even more fun. It started with Bruce and me switching the hydraulic hoses away from the leaky net reel valve, which rendered the stern roller powerless. This wasn’t the fun part, but if we hadn’t done this it would have leaked out all the oil before the next set was hauled back, then we would have been finished. With that task completed, I cut up a chum salmon and had him on the barbecue in no time flat.
While we were chomping down the chum, we compiled a cardboard box full of combustible material, dumped a splash of diesel on top, lit it on fire, and set it adrift. I usually launch a burning raft of combustible material when on anchor so the tide carries it way into the night, but this time we were at the mercy of the non-existent wind to move the floating raft of flames away from my vessel. It was a close-in and intimate fire, kind of like a campfire with no chance of roasting marshmallows.
While the campfire floated around the boat, I serenaded the night with a few songs on the accordion. The girls even sang along by making up words that suited them. Then they joined in further by blasting a few struggled notes out on my trumpet. When interest in that activity waned, the seagulls took centerstage with a feeding session of leftover rice and fish scraps. I didn’t know so many activities could be fit into one drift. The girls helped pick and pitch the fish again, and we had 50 fish for the long soak of more than two hours.
By the time we had the net up and were headed for the Duwamish Head boat launch to pick up Fawn John it was 10:30 p.m. The sea was flat calm, the night was crystal clear, and the stars were shining brightly upon us on the hour and 15-minute run. The girls played cards the whole way, and I was so glad they stuck out the shitty weather so they could appreciate this great night on the water.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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