Fishing, Fog and Crabnets
Fishing, Fog and Crab Nets Len Wilson
I answered the telephone and heard my sister’s familiar voice begging for my assistance; her husband was loading his car-top boat, crab net, and his usual assortment of rods; tackle boxes, assorted fishing paraphernalia to go fishing alone. Concerned, she asked me to join him and I needn’t worry about bringing anything, she’d even fix a lunch. With that kind of an offer how could I refuse?
He was already sitting in his truck, engine running, by the time I arrived. At first, I didn’t realize he was not happy with my joining him. I should explain a little about Danny and fishing. He is very competitive in all things but especially when it comes to fishing, and often went fishing alone, but today was going to be unique. He had the opportunity to launch his boat and be able to have a very special fishing experience, and he wanted it all for himself. Like most avid West Coast fishermen he had spent many hours trolling the waters on the east side of the BC Ferries Tsawwassen-Swartz Bay ferry slip and like everyone else always looked with envy at the secluded water on the west side. (Also like most avid fishermen, he suffered with ‘the grass is always greener’ syndrome.) Having worked all week at Westshore Terminals coal exporting terminal located at Roberts Bank, Delta BC, he had been given the key to their privately owned boat-launching site, and here I was foisted on him to interrupt what he expected to be something special.
So with this cloud hanging over our day we proceeded to Delta and crossing the causeway drove to the end of the island where Danny unlocked the chain link fence and we launched the boat. With me supporting the crab net, he started the engine, and headed straight out from the launching ramp some distance before selecting what to him was the perfect spot to lower the net.
After that, while controlling the tiller with one knee, he steered the boat to where we would begin trolling. I was given no further task until he had a rod ready with the proper lure and bait attached and I was informed as to when I should submit it to water and how many pulls I was to give the line.
Once satisfied I had accomplished everything to his specifications, he prepared the other rod. With both lines stretched behind, we proceeded to do a slow troll in the otherwise vacant stretch of water. Periodically, he would adjust his rod, either by bringing in the line, releasing the line, or changing the lure and bait. I was told not to change mine in any way and if my reel suffered so much as a click, he was quick to reprimand.
The morning wore on without so much as a bite and eventually I curled up in the bow and proceeded to have a relaxing nap. Ignoring his cursing, I managed to sleep until the pains of hunger woke me, and to his chagrin I proceeded to eat the lunch. I offered him some but all he would have was coffee. Food would only distract him from the seriousness of the day. We were there to fish, not to talk, eat or enter into any other relaxing or entertaining form of activity.
After lunch I dozed some more and except for the zinging of a reel I probably could have slept quite well. Instead wide-awake, I realized it was my rod that was pulled taut and my reel spinning wildly. Cursing loudly, Danny was screaming directions on how I should be doing things. I was pulling too tight, I was reeling too fast and I was giving too much slack. I saw the fish jump off to starboard but instantly it slew to port side and I fought the tension. Gradually the salmon cooperated and I could see it thrashing a few yards behind the boat. Grabbing the net and yelling directions, Danny prepared himself as the fish came alongside. Reaching over, he expertly flipped the fish into the boat where it flung itself around, banging inside the hull noisily in an attempt to escape. Finally I subdued it and began the fisherman’s usual ranting about the beauty and the size of the monster.
Probably for the better part of half an hour I continued my gloating before I realized he wasn’t joining in on my excitement. It suddenly came to me I had thrown the challenging gauntlet. I had caught a fish first. Regardless of how big mine was, the one he caught would be much larger.
Back and forth we trolled, as he continued working his equipment. Although he muttered under his breath, I knew he was letting the world know I had stolen his fish. The afternoon wore on and the first wisps of fog enshrouded us, but he ignored all distractions as he concentrated on his fishing. I huddled in the bow, and began to shiver. Any excitement I had felt began to dissipate as the fog became increasingly thicker.
I said, “Maybe we should call it a day.”
He adjusted his reel and snarled, “Not until I get a my fish!” He made another adjustment and then growled, “You just keep your eyes peeled for the buoy marker on my crab net!”
To try to locate a white marker floating on a roughening sea in bright daylight can be a challenge but to find it on that in thickening fog would be virtually impossible, but when I brought this to his attention, He just told me to shut up and keep looking.
However eventually he realized that I was right and became quite irate. He yelled expletives at the crook that had stolen his crab net, and became more determined to catch his fish.
The fog became thicker, and finally he slumped over in defeat. He began to reel in his line, but had only had made about a dozen turns on the handle when the tip of his rod was dragged down. He fought to keep the line tight as he shut off the engine. The line slackened for a few seconds, but then it jerked down again, and he yelled “It’s still there, and it’s a big one!”
After many years of body building and martial arts, Danny is a powerful man, but it seemed to be taking all his strength to subdue this monster. He yelled, “This is no salmon, it must be a huge ling cod!” However after a few minutes his joy turned to disgust when he stated with disgust, “It’s a bloody mud shark.”
As he continued to struggle with the thing on the end of his line, the fog grew heavier, and a wall of grey was developing between us. All visible signs of life beyond our small boat had disappeared around us except for a yellow light glowing in the distance.
The drag on his line became just a steady pull and he determined it was not a fish of any kind and he’d snagged. Suddenly the boat rocked violently and I realized he was fighting something huge. It took a few nervous and excited questions on my part before his voice came back out of the fog and he yelled something about a crab net. I thought by some fluke that his line had attached itself to the rope of his net.
I could see the shadows of his movement but to be honest I had little idea what he was doing, until the boat tipped violentl, and everything in the boat slid toward the stern, and I grabbed the gunwale to keep from doing the same.
When I let out a yell, he ordered, “Don’t take your eyes off that light for a second.”
There was no water beneath my end of the boat now as I clung to my perch.
The boat seemed to be spinning in circles as it sat on its stern, and I swung my head from left to right in an effort to keep my eye on that elusive light.
We were so totally enshrouded in that fog now it was impossible to distinguish the line between the fog and the sea. My heart thumped wildly as it came to me, if I lost sight of that light we might not have any future and yelling my concerns, I suggested he cut the line. I had no idea what he was doing except I could hear him grunting and groaning, screaming something about not going home empty handed and for me just to shut up and watch the light.
At one time I made a mistake, and yelled, “You can have my fish” but this was like adding salt to a festering sore: By rights that already was his fish. He became more determined than ever.
About this time it came to me that maybe I didn’t even have a fish anymore because when the boat had tipped so violently everything had crashed towards the stern and might have gone overboard.
Gradually after some time I felt a slight leveling of the boat and I realized what he had was now floating on the surface. Afraid to take my eyes off the golden yellow orb of that lone light, I didn’t dare chance a look in his direction. Suddenly with a great grunt on his part, I felt the boat tip again and I was sprayed with water. With a huge clunk something settled across the boat resting on the gunnels. I reached out and touched the chicken wire cage of a huge crab net easily twice the size of the one we’d dropped off, and I shouted, “Holy smoke, man it’s a commercial net!”
“Never mind that,” he snapped. “Where in hell’s the light?”
Because he couldn’t see me it made it difficult to give him directions, but after much screaming back and forth, he finally saw the light.
Once he had the boat heading for land, I said, “You’re not going to keep it are you?”
He screamed at me to keep my mouth shut and revving the motor, raced towards the light.
Back on shore, he became much happier as he discarded the few smaller crabs and counted the number of keepers as he muttered under his breath, “Serves the SOB right for stealing my crab net!”
“Who?” I asked.
“The dirty rotten commercial fisherman who stole mine!”
I tried to remind him that during the whole day we had not seen another soul, but he would have none of that, he was determined it was only right to keep this one.
He was in a much better mood on the way home and by the time we got to his place, he was congratulating me on my catch.
Since that day I’ve fished many times with Danny but only when it’s through his invitation. On some of those occasions I’ve caught fish some even larger than the one I caught that day but none ever looked so good or tasted better.