Sunday, February 08, 2004

Willow Bar

sunday night again. comes around once a week. lazy day here. didn't get out of my pj's until noon, then off to hunt and gather. As I consider my upcoming move, I think of things i will need to live with a man. a net lingerie bag. i don't want my silk panties banging around with his carhartts and grease rags. He is fishing today. The beach at Sauvie's Island is beautiful. i hope the link works. i'm winging it. asha won't help me until she gets her fucking hat back. some friend. if you can't see the link, let me know.

So beach fishing goes like this: you, or the man of your dreams, pounds a pvc tube that is attached to a stake into the sand near the water's edge. it is important not to get too close to nearby fishermen. the cultural norms are learn-as-you-go, nobody tells anybody anything, and you have to look like an idiot from time to time during the first year. trial by fire. If the neighboring guys don't say stupid shit and offer you a beer, something is wrong... rethink the setting of the stake. Once place is established on the obscure heirarchy of beach fishing, bait the hook with something shiny-- big earring looking lures, watermelon colored spinners, and fling it with all your might into the mighty columbia. Then, and this is important, place the bell. Far as I can see, the bell is an important choice. The bell is then attached to a stick or something, and the stick slid into the second or third eyelet on the pole. The bell is placed to ring easily, the stick to stay in place until the pole is yanked from its holder to set the hook in the unsuspecting Chinook. Then, the bell should fall just as easily to the beach rather than the water when the pole is moved. You have to smear stinky shrimp juice on the lures or the fish will smell MAN and decline the bait. like swimming watermelon are convincing.... anyway. THEN YOU WAIT FOR THE BELL. all the rest of the stuff takes about ten minutes. waiting takes all day. You sit, under an awning of some kind you hope, and wait for that bell to ring. Or someone else's. One bell and the whole beach goes nuts, all the fishermen inspired by one man's good fortune, or near fortune, to sit another eight hours. And even so, it's a 50/50 chance of getting a native, which has to be thrown back. The fun part about Sauvie's Island, is the ships that come by. The wake created by the barges are so intense they make the bells ring, and if that wasn't fun enough, watching the newbies run like mad for the bell is really great.

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