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.

The War at Home

Leonard W. Wilson

“Oh, my, God!”

“What’s the matter, Honey?”

I’ve been called up for active duty.”

“What?”

“It’s a letter from battalion. We’re being shipped out.”

“What, that’s impossible. When?”

“I have to report on the nineteenth.”

“What, just for exercises?”

“No, we’re going to see active duty.”

“But, where?”

“Afghanistan.”

“Afghanistan, you have to be kidding. You can’t. What about me? And the baby? I have my job… I can’t…”

“It won’t be so bad. It’ll only be for eight months, and my mother and I talked this over and she agreed that if I ever had to go, she could move in here and help with Sam.”

“You mean that you have talked this over with your mother, and never once mentioned to me the possibility that you could be sent over there. How come this is the first I’ve heard of it?”

“I’m sorry, dear, but I knew that it would just make you upset.”

“When you joined up, you said that the chances of this would probably never happen.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, sweetheart. No one ever expected that they would have to call up the reserves, but they have to put more troops on the field immediately and recruitment’s been down lately.”

“You can refuse to go.”

“No, I can’t. And I wouldn’t even if I could. I’ve trained with these people. We’ve worked side by side, and I’m not going to fail them now.”

“Oh, I see, they are more important than me and Samantha.”

“You know that isn’t true. Nobody could ever replace you and Sam, but I joined the army to serve my country, and now that my country has called on me, I’m not going to let her down.”

“I get it. This is all about you. We mean nothing.”

“That’s not fair. You know how much I love you. Besides, it seems to me, last year when you had to go away on that training session, we didn’t…”

“Oh come on. That’s like comparing apples with oranges. That was only for six weeks, and there never was any threat of me being shot.”

“I still worried all the time. Besides, our unit will be just a support unit. We won’t be called on to go into the areas where there is heavy fighting.”
“Yes, but there is still the threat of car bombings and land mines. No one knows what you could run into over there.”

“I know, honey. No one can guarantee that none of us will be hurt, but my unit’s been together a long time, and we know how to look after ourselves. I promise you that I will come back home without a scratch.”

“How can you make such a promise? You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. But, I can make this promise. I will do everything I can to make sure that I come home without a scratch. Now, come over here and give me a hug. We’ve only a little more than two weeks, and we’ve got so many things to get ready.”

Adam wiped the back of his hand across his cheeks. He got to his feet, but before he had even taken two steps, Iris was in his arms.

“Don’t worry, honey, the time will go by quick, and I’ll be home before you know it. I love you and Samantha, and I’ll write every day.”

“Oh, Iris, every day will seem like an eternity.” Adam did his best to push his thought of his wife’s bullet riddled body lying on some forlorn piece of land aside, and forced a smile. “I love you, Iris, and you know that I’ve always supported you, but I wish you didn’t have to do this.”

* * *

The next two weeks flew by. Iris wrapped up things at work, and spent the last few days at home. Except for helping to get her mother settled in the spare room, she spent as much time as possible with Samantha.

Adam managed to put on a brave face, but he could not get that horrible picture of Iris lying dead somewhere out of his mind, and whenever he was alone for even a few minutes, fresh tears welled up.

The nineteenth came, and Iris in full uniform said good-bye to her mother, and hugged and cried into Samantha’s shoulder. Samantha pat her mother’s head, and although the words came out garbled, it was almost as if she said, “Don’t cry, Mommy. Grandma and I’ll be here when you come home.”

Iris continued to cry as she joined Adam in the car. “Oh, Adam, I didn’t know that I would feel this bad. Samantha doesn’t even understand how long I will be gone. Will she even remember me when I come home?”

Adam forced himself not to give voice to the comment that maybe she wouldn’t come home. Instead all he could do was reach over and rest his hand on her back, and gently rub.

At the airport, Iris joined her unit. The soldiers looked handsome in their uniforms. Adam, like so many of the spouses, let the tears flow as they watched the brave soldiers march away and enter the aircraft. Soon, it rolled out, and in what seemed seconds was gone.

* * *

The days turned into weeks, and Iris did write faithfully. Adam read and reread the letters, and assured himself that she was going to be fine, but every night when he tried to go to sleep that vision of Iris’ bullet-riddled body entered his mind.

As the weeks turned into months, Adam watched as his little daughter went from a happy gregarious child to one filled with sadness and despondency. He did his best to bring home a happy atmosphere. He read the parts of Iris’ letters that she had written specifically to Samantha, but he could see that it didn’t help. Samantha hardly sat still to listen to the words, as she tried to grab and tear the pages. He could tell that Samantha felt as if she had been abandoned, and he knew that if Iris did come home as she promised, her and her daughter’s relationship would forever be strained.

Sylvia did her best to try to take Iris’ place, but for both Adam and Samantha, she could never fulfill their special needs. Adam was determined to stay faithful, but wherever he went there were enticements.

And so, father and daughter suffered through those long lonely days. Christmas was especially difficult for Adam, because Christmas had always revolved around Iris. She had always looked after the shopping, the decorations, and the cooking of the dinner. This was Samantha’s second Christmas, and Adam knew that she still was not old enough to make comparisons, but he wanted to do the best he could to give her a Christmas that was special.

However, in spite of all his efforts, and those of his mother-in-law, when Samantha went to bed on Christmas night, Adam could see that she had been disappointed. After Christmas, things became worse. Adam was so overcome with fear for Iris that he began to stop at a pub just for a drink to try to push those thoughts away. The alcohol didn’t help, but he couldn’t stop until one night, Sylvia made him sit down and listen. She explained how Samantha was becoming increasingly lethargic. She pointed to where Samantha stood hiding behind the drapes staring out the window. She explained how she had been doing that for weeks. Adam felt ill, because he hadn’t even noticed. He pushed his own fears and depression aside, and spent time with his daughter. He quit going to the pub.

There still was seldom any laughter in the house, but with the first signs of spring, Adam felt a resurging of life. He began to think that maybe Iris would really return home. Samantha still seemed depressed so he brought home a kitten in the hopes that might help. He began to plan. He brought Samantha into his plans. They talked about how happy Iris would be to meet the kitten. The letters continued to arrive almost daily with their promise. Finally, the letter came telling that Iris was coming home. She didn’t have the actual date yet, but it would be soon.

Adam, Sylvia and Samantha began to make plans. It was going to a beautiful homecoming. Adam somehow managed to push his fears aside until the letter came with the news that Iris was really coming home. She had boarded the plane; she would be home on Saturday. The preparations were almost complete. They had decorated the house with streamers and balloons, and ‘Welcome Home’ signs.

Adam was awake early on Saturday. The long hours until four o’clock that afternoon when they would drive to the airport stretched out before him. A truck arrived, and soon, the ‘Welcome Home’ sign on the front lawn was surrounded by hundreds of flamingos.

Sylvia kept Samantha busy with final preparations. They were laughing, and rather than disrupt, Adam decided to take a drive down to the mall to pick up a few things to add to the special dinner, and to pick up a bottle of wine.

Traffic flowed normally in and out of the mall as Adam hurried across the parking lot. His face was aglow. Iris was on the plane and coming home. All of his worries had been for nothing. As she had told him in the beginning, she had never been in any danger at all. Now, he was proud of himself for not trying to stop his wife. For the rest of her life, she could live with the satisfaction that she had done her part for her country. Adam couldn’t help but feel a little guilty because he had never felt so inclined. Yes, he was proud of Iris, and all the other Canadians that served, and put themselves in danger, but it was not something that he could have ever done.

He came outside into the bright sunshine carrying his few bags. He hurried down the aisle to his car. A sudden squeal of tires burning against blacktop grabbed his attention. He looked up to see a big black SUV screaming in his direction. He heard the scream of more burning tires, and saw a black sedan rushing toward him from the opposite direction. He heard the sound of firecrackers exploding.

Two horrendous crashes erupted, and then stillness came over the mall parking lot. A breeze carried the smell of burning rubber, gunpowder, and engine fluids. After what seemed a long time, but in fact was only a few seconds, heads began to pop up from behind vehicles, and the sound of sirens filled the air.

Fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances soon blocked all exits. With guns drawn, the police rushed to the two crashed vehicles, and pulled guns from the hands of the unconscious drivers. Everything happened quickly, but still it was some minutes before a bystander yelled, “Look, there is someone on the ground.”

Police and paramedics rushed to the body. Paramedics took only seconds to determine that the man had succumbed to the bullet wounds. An officer took out the man’s wallet. He shook his head and sighed. “Looks like just another innocent bystander. His name was Adam…”

 

Home

It is my pleasure to welcome you to my home. Pull up a chair and enjoy your stay. The coffee is hot and the tea is brewed to perfection. While you are here, feel free to browse.
If you read my Bio, you’ll see that I was raised in Whalley’s Corner. Whenever my brothers and sisters get together, we can’t help but begin reminiscing about our times growing up there. I’m happy to include some of these stories for your enjoyment. Also, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my first published novel, A Reluctant Revolutionary and my soon to be published Jeremy’s Journey.
Feel free to make a comment and if you leave your e-mail address, I’ll be more than happy to respond.

Leonard (Len) W. Wilson