Crab-yaking

Our good friend Tony Mooney and I went kayak crabbing yesterday.

The tide was starting to come in when we arrived at the north side of Alsea Bay near the old Bayshore Inn. Tony had gone out the previous day and caught a bunch of nice Dungeness Crabs, so he kindly called and asked if I'd like to go along for a repeat trip.

We unloaded our boats and gear and packed everything down the bank and over the exposed barnacle covered rocks to the water's edge. I was going to try using a fishing rod with a baited loop snare on the end of the line and Tony was using the two large sized crab traps that he easily handles from his 12 foot, ride on top kayak (ROTK). My little 9 foot sit inside kayak (SINK) however, is too tippy to pull that much weight out of the water, even with the pontoon outriggers I made for it.

The north wind and incoming tide proved to be more than I could handle, by the time I'd get set up with my dinky rig I'd be on my way out to the middle of the bay, have to pull it back in and paddle like crazy to get back to where I'd started. I finally gave up and decided to just take pictures of Tony as he worked his crab traps.

We paddled to the shoreline, Tony packed my ineffective crabbing gear back up to his truck and we headed back out. He has his own super-secret time to let his traps set, or “soak” as the old crabbers say, and the trip to his truck had extended it quite a bit. He strained and grunted as he hand over hand pulled the heavy trap up to his kayak, and with a great heave flopped it onto the deck between his legs. It was loaded with crabs.

I snapped pictures while he separated and threw back the usual females, and small males from the writhing, snapping, pinching mob, until he narrowed it down to two large male Dungeness Crabs.

“I don't even have to measure these!” he yelled. (To be legal they have to be male and 5 ¾ inches across.)

“That's a good start!” he yelled, as the wind commenced to blow me back out into the bay. Every time I'd quit paddling in order to take a picture I'd lose ground and have to paddle furiously to get back in position again. Tony had the same problem but he's in better shape and a lot younger!

My arms started to give out around noon and I headed for the shore. About that time Tony's mom drove up and he came in to show her the four crabs he'd kept so far. While we watched he went back out and pulled his traps several more times, ending up with six crabs total.

It was quite a workout for me, but I enjoyed every minute of it.

Kayaking with Parkinson's

I took the dogs out for their morning constitutional and instead of the usual rain, the moon was shining through wispy clouds. It looked like it was going to be a decent day, so I decided to get off my butt and drag my kayak over to the lake.

I've been making excuses for not kayaking for quite a while now; it's too windy, it's too rainy, I've got too much to do, etc., but I really need the exercise. Going for a walk every day has helped keep my legs in shape, but my upper body strength is fading away.

When I got to the lake, I removed the little lawn mower-wheeled cart off of the boat, tucked it in behind the seat and slid the kayak down the grassy bank to the shoreline. The lake was smooth and glassy with fog rising off the water. Just the way I like it!

There's a feeling that I never tire of, gliding out onto the water and quietly paddling, trying not to disturb the silence. For me it's a time for peaceful meditation. My mind clears and my arms and hands work the paddle on their own; I don't even have to think about it.

I got out to the middle of the lake before my meditation was interrupted by my once dependable arms and hands telling me that they were getting tired! I stopped and drifted for a while, resting. When I started paddling again I could feel the tremors in my left hand getting worse, and in a few minutes I had to stop again.

I slowly worked my way to the south end of the lake and into the little stream that feeds it. Paddling against the current was a chore, but I made it to the inlet where a culvert lets a road cross and I stopped for a long rest.

Letting the streams current do most of the work on the way back out onto the lake, all I had to do was keep the little boat between the banks, but when I got back to the open water a slight head wind had started up. I knew that I had my work cut out for me getting back to the put-in.

The tremors had spread to both of my arms and hands and it was difficult to keep a good grip on the paddle. With every stroke my arms had a cogwheel, ratchet feel to them. I was really tired and the boat dock where I usually get out looked like it wasn't getting any closer.

After what seemed like an eternity, I made it to the dock and slid in on the leeward side. Normally I can put my hands on the dock and roll up and out of the kayak, but I was almost too weak to do it. Somehow I managed to squirm up onto the dock without falling in or overturning my kayak.

I pulled the boat out, put the wheels on, and trudged back to the house. When I went to the kitchen sink to get a drink of water, my tremors were so bad I couldn't get the glass to my mouth, even when I tried using both hands.

Next time I'll take it a little easier!

The Lake

The weather's been so lousy and I've been so lazy, that I've either been in front of the TV or the computer for weeks now.

I had almost forgotten how great it is to drag my kayak over to the lake, the little home made wheels rattling over the roadside gravel, sliding it in through the grass and reeds, and heaving a sigh of relief as I glide out onto the early morning, glassy water.

Usually there are streamers of mist rising from the warm surface and some mornings there's a fog bank sitting over the lake, until the sun rises far enough to burn it off.

My senses welcome a flight of Canadian Geese honking overhead, their wings beating the air, the deep thrum of a large Bullfrog somewhere along the shoreline, the warning cry of a mother Osprey when I near her power line nest and the splash of a feeding Rainbow trout as I stop paddling and let the north wind push me to my favorite fishing spot.

Sometimes I don't even fish, I just sit and relax, watching Kingfishers diving for minnows or Otters poking their heads out of the water and curiously looking at me before submerging (and probably catching more trout than I will.)

When I let the wind carry me into the shallow water at the lakes edge, I can watch schools of minnows and tadpoles, clouds of freshwater shrimp and insects swimming through the moss and water plants, and once in a while a startled turtle will slide off of a log where I interrupted his enjoyment of the morning sun.

When I'm fishing I release most of what I catch, sometimes keeping one for breakfast the next day, or if it's a really big one, taking it home to brag about. My casting skills are deteriorating as the Parkinson's advances, and as far as tying a blood knot with my shaky hands, forget it!

I'm just glad that I can enjoy myself on the lake, whether I'm fishing, or just drifting with the wind, watching and listening.

I'm published!

Several months ago I submitted a story to Paddling.net, a kayaking web site that I visit almost every day to read the articles and find out what's new in the sport. I'd forgotten about it until this morning when they emailed me that they'd published my article! They even had their artist draw a picture of me...kind of a younger version of me... with more hair... and without my stash and goatee... Otherwise, a good likeness.

Here's the description of the article and a link to the story:

MisAdventures - Self-Launch!

Never under estimate the advantage of having a boating buddy. This month's MisAdventures story describes the ordeal of trying to do things alone, and the benefit of a caring paddling partner - even if they are three times larger than you. Enjoy a extra-sized laugh in this funny reader submitted article.