It was late one summer and my mom and dad had come to Portland to pick me up and bring me home. I had spent six weeks with my Aunt Jane and Uncle Bob. This was my third summer in Oregon and I thoroughly enjoyed each visit primarily because of my cousin, Karen.

Karen was the same age as I was and she always had a lot of girlfriends hanging around. She was good looking and very popular so her girlfriends were usually quite attractive. At home I was no Don Juan and getting date was not easy, but since I was her guest she felt obligated to line me up with as many cute girls as I wanted. As a result, for the past few years I had really looked forward to Summer vacation and dreaded when my parent's showed up to bring me home. It was August 16, 1962 when we left Portland and headed South along the rugged Oregon coast towards California.

As a child one of my great passions was fishing. At least once or twice a week you could find me down at the Pier with a line in the water. The fishing wasn't too spectacular from the pier but I caught enough Perch and Seven Elevens to keep up a keen interest in the sport. Occasionally, someone would catch a baby shark, a jelly fish or a sting ray which was always very exciting and a little scary.

What I remember the most, however, was when the Barracuda were running. The normally quiet Pier suddenly would be bursting at the seems with fisherman. I don't know what the fascination was with Barracuda. Was it their reputation for being fierce fighters, their menacing appearance or just their shear numbers that insured each angler of a bountiful catch? Whatever it was for a week each spring every angler in town dropped whatever they were doing to stake out a small claim on the Ventura Pier and fight for their share of sea's generous harvest.

Before I had left to go to Oregon I had made my father promise to take me Salmon fishing. My Uncle Bob had told me many stories of his deep sea fishing trips along the Oregon and Washington coastlines. He bragged of catching a dozen or so twenty and thirty pound fish each time he went out and how hard it was to land each one of them. All year I had bugged my Dad to take me Salmon fishing and finally he agreed that on our way home from Oregon we'd find a place that had Salmon charters and go out.

My Dad was not a fisherman. He was the youngest of 12 children and had 9 older sisters. With nine sisters, fishing was not something he was destined to learn much about. It's not that he didn't try to fish with me, but he just didn't have any idea how to go about it. Luckily Salmon fishing was pretty easy when you go out on a charter. Since the captain provides all the tackle and bait and leads you right to the fish, Dad and I were sure to catch our fair share.

As we traveled down the rugged Oregon coastline toward Crescent Bay, the little fishing village where we knew they had Salmon charters, I was filled with anticipation. Mom wasn't overly excited about the fishing trip as it meant she would have to spend the afternoon alone reading or knitting on the beach. She had vowed never to set foot in a fishing boat. Dad was kind of excited but he wouldn't admit it.

"How long until we get there Dad?"

"It's just a few more miles," Dad replied.

"How are we going to bring all the fish home?"

"Don't worry about that until we catch something."

"What if I catch a twenty pounder?"

"Your Uncle Bob says he always takes his fish to the cannery and a week or ten days after you get home they come in the mail." Mom said.

"When I catch my twenty pounder I want to have it stuffed and put on my wall," I said.

"That costs a lot of money," Dad said.

As we rounded the bend Crescent Bay appeared up ahead. It was a serene setting of small cottages all nestled around a small harbor with hundred's of boats bobbing in the pale blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. Several ships were gliding in and out of the harbor and around a lighthouse guarding its entrance.

"What time is it?" Dad said.

"Eleven forty-five," Mom replied.

"Hopefully the afternoon Charter goes out at one," Dad said.

"Are you sure they have afternoon Charters, Ted?" Mom asked.

"The desk clerk at our last motel said they did."

As we came into town we turned down a narrow winding road that appeared to lead toward the harbor. Before long we were in the midst of hundreds of small boats with their captains and crews diligently preparing them for the afternoon run. We drove slowly through the harbor until we came to a small shed with a sign that read, Salmon Charters.

"This looks like the place," Dad said.

"Good, let's go get our tickets," I replied as I opened the door and ran over to the shed.

"Wait for your Dad," Mom said.

"Okay, hurry up!"

We went inside the cluttered office and observed a man on the telephone. While we waited I noted a picture on the wall of proud fisherman holding up what must have been a twenty-five and thirty pound salmon. I closed my eyes and imagined myself in the picture holding up such a magnificent fish. Finally the man got off the phone.

"Hello, can I help you?" he said.

"Yes, we were interested in a salmon charter this afternoon," Dad replied.

"Oh, I sorry, the afternoon charters leave at 11:30 a.m."

"What! Eleven-thirty. That's not afternoon," Dad complained.

"Well, I know it's a little confusing but by the time we get out to the Salmon it's afternoon," the man said.

"You mean we can't got fishing today," I said.

"I afraid you can't Stan," Mom responded with an air of

relief. "You can go another time."

"Crap! You promised Dad."

"Let's go, maybe we'll find another place down the road," Mom noted.

To say I was disappointed would be an incredible understatement. I was crushed. All year I had looked forward to the adventure of reeling in a gigantic Salmon. I had often caught myself day dreaming about it and often bragged to my friends about the impending trip. When I got home I would be humiliated when I told all my friends I didn't even get to go.

The mood in our little Nash Rambler was solemn as we drove out of Oregon toward Klamath, California which was near our next destination, the great Redwood Forests. Mom got out the AAA travel guide and began to read about the wonders of the Redwood Forest hoping to cheer me up, but I managed to ignore her preferring instead to sulk and feel sorry for myself. As we neared Klamath we crossed over a long bridge that traversed the Klamath River. As I looked out my window I saw hundreds of boats on the river and the banks were crowded with fisherman.

"Dad! Look at all those boats. What's going on down there?!"

Dad slowed down and peered down at the river crowded with thousands of fishermen.

"Dad, that man just pulled in a monster fish! You've got to stop."

Dad reluctantly pulled over and we all got out to look at the mass of humanity beneath us.

"Gee Ted, I've never seen anything like this before," Mom said.

"Dad, let's go fishing here, everyone is catching something."

Just then another car pulled up behind us and the passengers got out to look down at the activity below. The grey haired, unshaven man who emerged from the car smiled at us and said, "Quite a sight, isn't it?"

"It sure is," Dad replied. "What exactly is going on down there?"

"It's the annual migration of salmon up the Klamath River to spawn. Every year thousands of fisherman line the banks to catch the salmon as they go up the river."

"Looks pretty chaotic to me," Dad said.

"That it is, but that's part of the fun of it," the man said.

"Come on Dad, let's get down there before the fish quit biting."

"Okay. Okay, I guess we can fish here for a while, but we don't have any bait."

"Ah, there's a bait shop just half a mile down the road," the man said.

Dad rolled his eyes, forced a smile and said, "Thanks."

The excitement and anticipation that I had felt earlier that day had miraculously returned. I couldn't wait to get my line in the water and feel the sudden tug of a salmon sinking his mouth into my hook. We got our bait and then drove down to the dirt road that followed the river to the ocean. With much difficulty we found a parking place and then searched for a place amongst the crowd of fisherman to cast our lines.

"Look Dad! That man's got a giant one," I said as I watched in amazement as he pulled in what must have been a fifteen pound salmon.

"Be careful Bill, it's going to be difficult keeping your line from getting tangled."

"Okay, I will," I said as I put the bait on my hook.

Dad threw out his line rather awkwardly into the swift running river and then waited for the Salmon to strike. Then I made a cast out toward an open spot in the river. The lead weight hit the water with a splash and instantaneously my pole began to bend as the line was yanked from my reel.

"Dad, I've got one!" I screamed as I struggled to keep from being pulled into the river. Dad grabbed my arm to help stabilize me while he held his rod in his left hand. I strained as I began to reel in the big fish when suddenly it turned and headed down stream under the lines of at least a dozen other fisherman. The fish then defiantly leaped out of the water and fell back entangling my line with that of several other fishermen. Chaos immediately ensued as we all tried to untangle our lines without losing my fish. It soon became impossible to turn my reel. Then suddenly my line went limp, the Salmon had escaped.

"Dad, I lost it! I can't believe it. I had him."

"I sorry Stan, we all saw it. It must have been a twenty pounder."

"There's too many people around here. Can't you find us a place where there aren't so many people?" I screamed in bitter disappointment.

"Well, let's walk down toward the ocean. Maybe it's not as crowded down there," Dad said obviously feeling very sorry for me.

After Dad spent twenty minutes untangling my line, we walked toward the beach. The bounty of salmon being pulled onto the shore hadn't stopped. I became more and more frustrated with every happy fisherman I observed showing off his catch. Unfortunately the entire bank of the river was packed all the way to the ocean. Then I looked out onto the river and saw an abundance of small motor boats on the river.

"Dad, look those people in boats don't have any trouble getting their lines tangled. We should get a boat."

"Bill, come on. Those people brought there own boats."

"No, I think I saw a boat rental place by the bridge. Let's go check it out, okay?"

Dad gave me a stern look but eventually said, "Okay, but we can't afford to spend a lot of money on a boat."

I smiled when Dad gave in and scampered up the riverbank toward the bridge. When we got to the small boat dock my spirits were quickly dampened as it appeared every boat was out. When Dad caught up to me I looked at him with great despair.

"It looks like you're out of luck Bill," Dad said.

"Crap!" I replied.

Just then a young man emerged from the boat house and said, "Can I help you?"

"Well we wanted to rent a boat but it looks like you don't have any left," Dad replied.

"Yeah, it's been a zoo around here today. We've got one due in about an hour and a half," the young man said.

"No, that'll be too late. We've got a ways to go yet before we get to our campsite for the night."

"Well, I am sorry," he said.

"What's that?" I said as I observed a small boat behind the boat house.

"That's one of our boats but the engine isn't working," the young man replied.

"Do you have oars?" Dad inquired.

"Sure, but the river current is pretty strong, most people want an engine."

"Oh, when I was a kid we lived on a lake and I used to row my sisters across the lake all the time. How much to rent that?"

"Two-fifty an hour."

"Good, we'll take that for a couple hours," Dad said.

I was surprised to hear my Dad talk about his oarsmanship. He had never talked much about his childhood and I frankly had never thought much about it. I made a mental note to ask him about it later but for now the only thing on my mind were salmon.

We loaded up the boat, I carefully got in and Dad shoved us away from the dock. As Dad began to row we slowly made our way into the middle of the river. I immediately threw in my line and anxiously awaited another strike. On the bank of the river Mom was waving at us so I waved back. A few minutes later I looked for her but couldn’t find her. Then I realized we had drifted quite a ways down the river in just a few minutes.

"Boy this river is running pretty fast, Dad."

"I know, I’m rowing as fast as I can just to keep us from moving down stream."

Suddenly I heard some fisherman yelling in the boat behind us. I turned and saw them bring in an enormous Salmon.

"Look Dad, that's a gigantic one!"

Dad smiled and kept on rowing. He looked tired and a bit preoccupied.

"You okay, Dad," I said.

"Sure, just catch me a big fish."

"I will, I can just feel it."

Not five seconds later I felt a tap on my line and then my pole doubled over as a Salmon nearly ripped my pole out of my hand.

"Dad! I've got one, it must be a whale."

"Don't let it get away this time," Dad said as he momentarily stopped rowing.

The fisherman in the boats around us looked over at us with keen interest as I fought to reel in the big fish. Dad began to laugh in anticipation of the great catch. Then suddenly the Salmon went under the boat and I nearly fell overboard. Dad grabbed by belt to keep in the boat. The Salmon headed straight toward the ocean so Dad started rowing in the opposite direction trying to slow our acceleration down stream.

With the fish pulling us downstream together with the strong river current Dad was waging a losing battle. Before long Mom was just a speck on the horizon. For the first time I began to worry about our predicament. Where were we headed and how would we get back?

Dad quit rowing in complete and utter despair. "It's impossible with the current and that fish pulling us out to sea. We'll have to cut the line."

"Dad! We can't let the fish get away," I screamed in horror.

"We have to, it's our only hope. I might be able to make some progress against the current if that fish isn't pulling us."

Dad proceeded to pull out his knife and cut my line. I gasped in utter despair as my line disappeared into the river. He immediately began rowing again but it was soon apparent the river was stronger than he. I looked into the distance and for the first time could see the ocean. It was a magnificent sight to see the river meet the ocean waves. Then I noticed giant rocks where the river plunged into the ocean. My concern turned to alarm.

"Dad, look ahead, we're going to crash into those rocks."

"I know, I’m trying to steer us to the shore."

Dad began to furiously row towards the shore but to no avail. We were now at the mercy of the river and our destiny was no longer in our hands. I tried to think of what we could possibly do as I looked up at my worried father.

"Maybe we could swim to shore," I suggested.

"No, we'd both end up drowned," Dad said somberly.

"What are we going to do, Dad?"

"I don't know. Just let me think."

For several moments we sat silently as the river began to flow faster and faster towards its final destination. The situation looked hopeless—unless we could somehow steer our boat around the rocks and make our way to the beach. It wasn't long, however, before we realized the rocks were the least of our problems.

In all my years in school there had never been a discussion about what happened when a great river finally flowed into the ocean. Had this topic have ever come up I would have scoffed at discussing it as being a waste of time, but now suddenly I was getting a demonstration of what happens when two great forces of nature meet. As I looked ahead I observed a gigantic whirlpool that was about to consume us!

"Dad! What is that!?"

"I don't know, I've never seen anything like it in my life!"

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know just hang on, son."

Suddenly our tiny boat was pulled into the whirlpool and we began to spin wildly around and around, slowly descending into the deadly maelstrom.

What happened next was totally unexpected. As I appeared into the darkness below us I saw the face of death. My life suddenly flashed in front of me. I thought I saw my great grandmother looking down at me from heaven. I felt my father clutch my shoulder as a silent gesture of his love. Then there was a shrieking noise that pierced the silence of our doom. Our boat was suddenly jolted and jerked out of the vortex by what seemed no less powerful than the mighty hand of the Lord. I looked up to see a big white boat had fixed a clamp on our bow and was tugging us up the river to safety. It was the United States Coast Guard to the rescue.

Needless to say I didn't do any more Salmon fishing that day. My father was totally humiliated by being towed past all the fisherman by the Coast Guard and then scolded for going out in the river in a row boat. My mother, once she had us back safe and sound, thought the whole affair was hysterical and couldn't wait to return home to tell all her friends.

My Dad and I never went fishing again after that experience but it didn't matter. We had shared the ultimate fishing adventure and anything we might have done in the future would have been pale in comparison