At the time, we were living in Lake Oswego, Oregon and as near as I can recall, I was nine or ten years old, circa 1959. Dad used to take clients on salmon fishing trips off the Coast, leaving out of Astoria, Oregon. The clients would travel from Portland or elsewhere where they lived to Astoria where Dad had chartered an off-shore fishing vessel to fish for salmon. As I now know, these trips were scheduled during the annual salmon migration runs up the Columbia river.
Now Dad had done this trip for clients in previous years but I was too young to go on the previous trips. But this particular year, I was bigger and older. I was always “big” for my age so this year, Dad announced one night he would doing the annual trip to Astoria, a few weeks before the actual trip would take place.
Since I was older and bigger that year, I asked Dad if I could go when he announced the trip. Dad said that I was too young and not big enough. So I kinda accepted it on face value since he, in previous years, had made it clear that I was too young and not big enough. So here I was bigger, older and knew how to handle myself around older adults. It should be noted here that at that same time, Dad, also, entertained clients by playing golf at the Lake Oswego Country Club and I was big enough to caddy for Dad on those outings. I was tall enough to sling Dad’s golf club bag and not have it drag along the ground.
Caddying and Dad playing golf with clients was part of our regular routine on weekends in Lake Oswego. So I was mature enough to be around these fellows and Dad knew it. So when he said he was going again this year to Astoria, I piped up and said: “Can I go too, this year?” for the first time since I knew I was big enough and mature enough to handle it. Dad said something to the effect that no not this year. I was disappointed but I was not about to take no as a answer. So I accepted what Dad said and moved on but I, also, knew that I was not taking no as a final pronouncement. So I was quiet but determined and resolute. As the weeks passed before the Astoria trip, I would quietly and respectfully ask Dad again about this decision not to take me and he was very patient with me sayin no, not this year. This back and forth between us went on for quite awhile. I would not say that I pestered him but I did bring it up every chance I got. I should say here, that Mom was cool with it, either way. She knew I could handle it but ultimately, it was Dad’s decision. So, as the trip grew near, I resorted to begging which bordered on pestering and hectoring Dad damn near all the time, every day but the answer was always the same.
So it came to pass that it was the night before the trip. Dad always left the house about 3:00 AM to get to Astoria to meet the clients and get an early start on the day of fishing. If it recall correctly, it was about a four or five hour trip by car to Astoria from our house. So that night before he left the next morning, I made one final attempt to state my case as to why I should go with him the next morning but the answer was still the same. I went to bed that night forlorn but resigned to my fate. I went to bed and fantasizing about all the salmon they were going to catch the next day and soon fell asleep.
The next thing I know, it’s Dad waking me up from a deep slumber. I immediately thought something is wrong, like the house was on fire but it was Dad telling me to get dressed warmly because WE WERE LEAVING FOR ASTORIA!!!
I could not get dressed fast enough. I was dressed warmly for the day and I raced down to the idling car in record time and was waiting for Dad. We loaded the car together and we were off into the dark night. To say I was pumped does not do justice to how excited I was. I could not contain myself. I thanked Dad profusely and repeatedly as we left town, driving to ASTORIA, the mythical land of salmon fishing. I soon calmed down enough to be able to listen to Dad as he laid down the rules for me in re: being with the the clients, letting them fish first and just general ideas of how to conduct myself around them even though Dad knew I knew this schtuff from our golfing and caddying days. I soon fell asleep and the next I knew we were in Astoria, at the dock.
We all pitched in and loaded the chartered boat with beer, food and snacks brought from home. The Captain gathered us together and explained to us how it was going to go that day, including limits of salmon per each fisherman, safety instructions, wearing life jackets, etc.etc. So we were finally ready to leave the dock and motor slowly out of the harbor onto or into the Pacific Ocean. I was so excited I could hardly contain myself but I did and acted as if this was just any old day on the water. But it wasn’t and knew it.
So we opened it up as we left the harbor, made the transition to the Pacific through the choppy confluence of the Columbia River and the Pacific and we were off to the races and the fishing grounds. Salmon fishing involved baiting the hooks and slowly trolling back and forth, waiting for a strike on one of the rods we had deployed off the stern and sides of the boat.
We did not have to wait long. We got several strikes and the clients, in turn, took turns reeling in the salmon but after they all had boated at least one salmon, they returned to wheelhouse where the beer was and kinda lost interest so they then allowed me to fight and reel in each subsequent strike which was fine by me. The strikes were coming fast and heavy. As soon as I boated one fish, the other rod would reel off and I would grab that rod and reel in another fighting salmon. I was in heaven and could not have been happier than when I was fighting a fish that took all of my strength to reel in.
I proceeded to catch my limit of salmon and the Captains limit. The clients, as I learned later, as they told Dad out of earshot of me that they enjoyed watching me more than they enjoyed catching some fish.
As we limited out in our catch for the day, the Captain headed for Astoria. We docked with me being exhausted but ecstatic with the days events. We all took our salmon to a salmon smoking facility, adjacent to the dock, paid in advance for the smoked salmon which we would receive at home a few weeks later. Which we did and I swear to this day, that those smoked salmon that we got were the sweetest, smokiest and tastiest salmon I ever had or since.
All because my Dad had surprised me with this trip.
What a great Dad!!!