Tag Archives: fishing

In my element

We went back to Newport for the day. The old dock area is pretty fun, with an active fishing industry, pubs, and cute shops. Old What’s Her Face* bought a tee shirt that says “Goonies never say die.” She and our daughter hit the shops.

I’ve written many posts about how I love fishing, foraging, and even hunting. Being at the ocean is a rare opportunity for me, and I took full advantage of it. I’ll probably skip clamming, because it takes a day or two to purge them of sand. We don’t have enough days left for that.

I scored an old fish head, and headed for the public dock. I only own one crab ring, but am allowed to fish with three. I’d show you a photo of the crab ring, but WiFi is being pretty wonky here.

We are allowed to catch either sex of red rock crab, and only male Dungeness over 5 3/4 inches across the carapace. The red rocks remind me of stone crab. They have huge claws, and even have black tips on them. The resemblance ends there, because they are brilliant red. I caught a few with no claws, and suspect someone snapped them off before returning them to the sea. (Illegal, but the claws will grow back.)

I hauled in several nets with multiple small and/or female Dungeness. The tide turned, and all the other fishermen left. I stuck it out, because the girls were shopping anyway. I wound up with the Mac Daddy of all Dungeness crabs, then I brought in his brother.

I am allowed 24 red rock crabs, and 12 legal Dungeness. Even Old What’s Her Face can’t eat that much crab. I brought home eight of the little guys, and my two giant Dungeness crabs.

Dinner is on me!

Add one ear of corn each, skipped the potatoes. There isn’t much left. (Okay, there isn’t any left.) my daughter doesn’t eat anything much more exciting than Mac & Cheese, or a hamburger. My wife and I put this all away.

I stopped back by the brewery from night one and bought my friend a jar of mustard he requested. It’s right beside the road on the way home. My daughter liked their blackberry cider, and we bought her a growler of that.

Cracking open an Alaskan Pumpkin Ale and getting ready to actually watch Goonies. Have a nice evening everyone.

* Not actually the name on our marriage license.


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Tired out today

I got up at 4:00 AM today. I got my fishing gear together along with my outdoor clothing. This includes my cowboy hat and bandana for the day. I made two pots of coffee to fill a thermos for everyone. I took a moment to read a few blogs and respond to some overnight comments.

My son, daughter-in-law, and grandkids picked me up at 7:00. We went to the Steck Park area of Brownlee Reservoir. Fishing was slow, but not a disaster. My daughter-in-law caught the biggest catfish. It was a dandy, and might have been a shade over five pounds.

My son caught what we called a kitten fish by comparison. You can bet my daughter-in-law took great joy in that. Old grandpa got skunked today. I still had a great time. The grandkids spent most of the time in the mud or lake itself. They had a great time too.

We saw a lot lot of pheasants along the way today. I spotted a coyote on the other side of the lake, and a golden eagle worked the shores from above. We heard chuckars everywhere, but only saw a few. I love watching the animals when I go out.

My son wanted to take me home and let me clean the fish. To be honest, he’s never fileted a fish of any kind. Catfish are more difficult than most, because the skin sticks like iron.

I was on my game. I told him I would be happy to show him, but we were doing it at his house. Grandpa still wants to stay married to grandma.

It was a long day, but a good day. The only downer is that somehow about two inches got broken off the tip of my custom catfish pole. This is one my father made for me and he hand wrapped all the threads. It even has my name on it. Dad isn’t makeing these any longer. I should have locked it in a safe somewhere, but fishing poles are meant for fishing.

I also had my mind blown by The Walking Dead tonight. I was about to be pissed over the Glen storyline, but breathed a small sigh of relief. I won’t feel perfect until I know he wasn’t bitten.

Tomorrow might be the day I get to drop off my truck for repairs. At least I hope it works that way. Beyond that, I want to do some more writing.


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Bachelor Saturday

My wife went to visit her brother in Nevada. My daughter has been at work all day. These days are golden to me, and I always try to make the most of them.

I started off answering comments and reading your blogs. I needed to get my coffee guage up in the green zone before tackling any serious work. I forgot to track my word count again, but knocked a big dent in my novel.

I stopped at 51,000 words today. If I had to guess, I’m between four thousand and fourty-five hundred words. I have more in me, but my eyes got tired.

I wrote a gangland shootout, let it devolve into cold blooded murder, and deprived one of my characters of a body part. He’s tough, he’ll muddle through. He’s in the middle of getting some healing that no MD can provide. It involves something called Fiery Wall of Protection oil and a few Psalms.

He’s going to need a new plan, and a bit of luck to fulfill his mission now. I wish him all the best, but his foil is in town too and getting close to the same goal.

I added a category to my blog. I’m a believer in few categories and many tags. The new category is The Idea Mill. I went back and added this to all the old posts. Now folks who enjoy these can find them all in one place. Need a story element, check this category to get your imagination running.

It occurred to me that these posts need pictures. I’ve always been sparse with photos, but these could benefit. Since they are links, with my own added remarks, I just think a little bait might draw more attention.

I spent a little time with The twilight Zone today. I can enjoy them without glasses and it was a good chance to rest my eyes and still fill my head with data.

It’s 7:00 PM here at Casa Boyack. I have to choose between a new short story idea and reading. I promised my Muse I would work on my novel, and I did. Like a bolt from Mt. Olympus the idea for a fantasy story hit me. I suppose that’s how Muses work sometimes. My fantasy tale will involve the use of diplomacy. Far be it from me to make it about sorcery and magic.

I suppose in the end reading will win out. Tomorrow I get to go fishing with my son and grandkids. Even I need to get taken outside and aired out.

How was your Saturday?


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The River Pixies

The Snake River God is plaguing me. I had big plans to go sturgeon fishing today, but they died last night.

Old What’s Her Face* called me on my way from work. The sprinkler system needs to be turned on, and right now!

I told her I would turn everything on when I got home and asked her to record the season finale of Shield for me. I changed into something suitable for spider webs, mud, and slugs and dove right in.

Our community system must have been turned off. There was no water at all. I suppose the River God sent his pixies to interfere with my fishing trip. I promised to work on it today, and my fishing adventure crumbled to dust. I swear I heard giggling over the sound of frogs when I went to bed last night.

Good news, the system is watering our yard right now. I’m sure there will be the inevitable dead sprinkler head, but I’m making progress. (And plotting my revenge on the River God.)

Aanndd – here I am online like I planned to escape from. Might as well update my blog.

In other good news, I got as high as number 36 on the Amazon list last night. Woo Hoo! This is the top 100 free science fiction books.

Wild Concept is free for a few more days. I always thought this story would resonate with the comic book crowd. Marvel has conquered television and the movies, and the timing feels right. I even got a comic book artist to make my cover. I’d like to break through to the comic crowd. If you know any fans or casual readers of comics, please tell them about my free promotion. Maybe together we can crack the top ten.

I hate self promotion, but here it is: I’m asking you to tell people about my give away.

Some very generous people have promised reviews. I hope they like it, and I earned good reviews. One reader already let me know she’s finished about a third of the book and is enjoying it.

Panama is also available on Amazon. My give away might have stomped its release, but I’m looking at things from a long term perspective. Those who like Wild Concept might give Panama a chance too. No robots, no frogs (inside joke for those who read Wild Concept), just a fun romp through the paranormal side of life. Deadly snakes, bugs, torrential downpour, witchcraft, revolution, explosions, demons: what’s not to like? Fun for the whole family, right?

Since last night imploded, I got to watch Shield. Director Colson has a nice ring to it. I hope this will influence the movies as well. He and May had some awesome scenes last night. May is always amazing, but Colson has fewer and bigger moments. Can’t wait for what they have planned in the Fall.

* Not my wife’s actual name.


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Is it time to go fishing?

Here’s a neat article about the Loch Ness Monster. 

I won’t steal their photos to glorify my blog. Check out the article.

As per usual, people see what they want to see. Is it a sunken ship, an airplane, waves? The comments on the article indicate all those things, and why the commenter feels that way.

For me, I need a ticket to Scotland, and a ten foot earthworm. Maybe a size 1000 cast iron skillet.


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Well, That’s a Wrap

Old What’s Her Face* went to deliver some Easter presents to the grandkids this weekend. This left me alone with my daughter, and she works all the time.

Old What’s Her Face left me a Papa Murphy’s pizza for survival rations, because she knows I won’t bother if I’m writing and it isn’t something simple. On the way home from work, I bought two pears. As an old guy, you start to wonder about moving all that pizza through.

Fred Meyer had some nice looking Easter Lillies. I bought one with six buds on it for Old What’s Her Face. Because, you know, I lurve her.

I had plenty of writing time available. I told everyone how it went yesterday. My main character, Patty, faced evil all by herself.

In a way, I had to write evil all by myself, and maybe that’s poetic somehow. Lorelei** bailed on me, and I haven’t heard from her since.

Today, I finished Will ‘O the Wisp. I like it. I’m pretty happy with Patty’s character arc. She’s stronger, smarter, and soon to be happier.

I’m a little bummed out at only getting 73, 209 words out of it. I consider novels to be 80,000 words. I know that’s my personal number, and there’s no real number written in some mystical tome somewhere. I just wanted 80K, you know? Today’s word count was 3331 for those keeping score.

I have plenty of stuff to share with my critique group. There are a couple years worth of material here.

When I’m ready, I’ll read through it and correct some things. I always find extra words to kill. I’ve also learned that I can add words by making things worse. I’m not even close to ready for that job today.

Today is a day to be happy at finishing. There’s always more to do, and it can wait for a little while.

I’ve also decided not to write another novel – right away that is. I have a dandy idea, that merges science fiction with paranormal. I’ve been doing everything at once, and I need to pay attention to other corners of my life.

I’m going to put my effort into getting, Panama, Arson, and The Cock of the South on Amazon. Will ‘O the Wisp will come after that. I’m following a good lead on a cover artist for Panama as I write this.

Right now, it’s Spring. My fruit trees need tending, my roses need tending, and I’m pretty sure there’s a sturgeon in the Snake River somewhere with my name on it. Maybe there’s a catfish dinner swimming out there somewhere too.

* Old What’s Her Face, is not my wife’s actual name.

** Lorelei is my Muse. She’s been missing in action this weekend.


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I’ve About Had it up to Here with Winter

We just finished shoveling the driveway and sidewalks for the third time in three days. It looks like we’ll be doing it again before bed time.

I decided I need a little break, and if I can’t afford one I’ll imagine one. There’s something I always wanted to try…..(Cue weird swirly music for a scene change)

I drove the truck down a muddy two track through the swamp. The humidity in here was like a weight on my chest. The forest ended and clean white sand stretched before me for two hundred yards.

I pulled up next to a jeep; one of the old kind that still had a tailgate. The tailgate was down and a girl waited on it. She had flawless caramel colored skin that glistened with sweat. She’d tied a scarf around her bikini bottom, and her swimsuit top was two sizes too small.

“You that boy from up North?” She asked.

“Yes,” I held out my hand. “You must be Ghislaine.”

“Uh huh.” She shook my hand. “You buy the net I told you ’bout in my letter?”

“Yes.” I lifted the little bucket from the bed of the truck. I felt like such a rookie with the price tag still on it.

Ghislaine popped the top off the bucket and lifted out my net. She inspected it and spread it in a circle across the sand. She bundled it up with a twist and put it over her shoulder, the rope across her opposite arm. She tucked the end of the rope in her teeth.

When she twisted back and swung forward I wished I’d had a camera. Her flawless skin, athletic build and motion looked like classical sculpture.

“Pay attention to the net this time. I’ll show you again, then you try. If you don’t do it right it won’t open,” she said.

I watched closely and thought I was ready. She helped me load the net and coil the rope. When I let loose, it landed in a clump about four feet from me.

After some coaching she had me throwing it further. It managed to open every third time too.”

“I brought some good local beer, like your letter said. I threw in some kit to cook ’em up too.” She turned toward me and said, “If you manage to catch some. Well, what ya staring at? The sea bobs are all in the water, not here on the beach.”

She gave me a floating basket to put my shrimp in and pointed at the water.

It was hot, but the thick humidity ended at the forest. The air could move out here, and the Gulf was cool on my legs and waist.

After about six tries, my net opened perfectly. I let it drop and hauled it in. There was a shrimp. I plucked him out and put him in my basket. On the next cast, I saw Ghislaine coming toward me against the flames of the campfire she’d started.

She took the wrap off her swimsuit and tied it around her long black hair. Her top wasn’t the only part of the swimsuit that was tiny. “You’re too early yet. They’ll come in a half hour, maybe an hour. Besides you need the practice.”

My net floated against a flawless blue sky as it opened perfectly. It splashed into a beautiful calm ocean and I pulled it back in. Her hand touched my back.

“White boys burn up out here.” She rubbed coconut scented lotion across my back.

I quivered at her touch and opened my net. “Got another one, and some kind of fish.”

“Put ’em in the basket.”

“Is it legal to keep the fish?”

“Maybe, but sole’s good. We cook him with the rest.” She took out a slice of bread and wadded it into a ball, then threw it in front of me. “In about ten minutes, try to catch the bread in your net.”

I turned around and cast the other direction for a bit. Ghislaine threw another ball and said, “Go catch the first one.”

This time I had over a dozen fat shrimp in my net.

“Twice more in the same place. Then fish the other bait.”

When my basket was full we waded ashore.

“Makin’ us my momma’s marecage.” She made a wry smile and said, “You might want that beer to cool it down some.”

I grabbed the growler out of her Jeep and filled a couple plastic Solo cups. The food smelled like heaven as I leaned against a huge piece of driftwood and waited.

The sunset added a pink glow to what was already the most beautiful place ever. The seafood was hot, so hot I had tears trickling down my cheek. It didn’t seem to bother her at all. I washed it down with cold beer and wiped the sweat from my forehead.

“Is it good?” She asked. Her long arms were sprawled along her own driftwood, her legs stretched out against the white sand, and the setting sun lighting her like a professional photographer would.

My mouth was on fire, but it was about the best shrimp I’d ever had. I held out the paper plate and said, “Oh yeah, hit me again and pass the beer.”

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