When I was 11 years old, my dad always took me along to go crabbing in Willapa Bay on summer weekends.
The boat was a small aluminum 12-foot boat, barely big enough for the task of setting and pulling crab pots.
One day, we went out and starting pulling up pots. We came to the last pot, and the motor quit. My dad tried many times to start the motor. Then it dawned on him to check the fuel tank. We had run out of gas and had to use the crab pot line as a anchor. My dad never brought extra gas, tools or oars. We never needed them before.
There wasn’t much boat traffic as we waited to signal someone for help. My dad said, “Well, go ahead and start fishing while we are waiting.” It wasn’t even five minutes later when a boat from a distance appeared between the jetty and the island. At the same time I had a big steelhead on. My dad tried to get the boater’s attention by waving a life jacket, but he didn’t see us.
I was fighting the steelhead by myself. I wasn’t experienced enough to know how to release the drag. The fish went under the boat and cut the line.
A fishing boat owner saw the life jacket just barely waving above the jetty wall as he was sitting down for coffee at the Ark restaurant. He told the waitress he’d better go see what’s going on and he would be right back.
About 10 minutes later, a fishing boat came around the corner and my dad jumped up on the seat and starting waving the life jacket. He saw us and threw us a tow rope and towed us back to our mooring spot. The name of the fishing boat that came to our rescue was “Last Chance.”
Even to this day, my dad still carries extra gas, tools and oars.
Everybody has a Story welcomes nonfiction contributions, 1,000 words maximum, and relevant photographs. Email is the best way to send materials so we don’t have to retype your words or borrow original photos. Send to: neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver WA, 98666. Call “Everybody Has an Editor” Scott Hewitt, 360-735-4525, with questions.
