Oregon, Funky Fishing Camps, Coast Highway 101 Video  

By Barry Murray

I have had it explained to me that outlandish colors, coffee so thick a spoon stands alone, and stories that begin “Me and Bill were...” were the sure signs one was visiting a wild Pacific Coast fishing camp.

Sort of a sane-asylum for sea-run fishing adicts. Those afflicted are quick to point out they had a aunt who was adicted to going to church. And, perhaps because of that, a stoner nephew adicted to the noise, and other accoutrements of a rock concert. Therefore, the reasoning goes there is nothing abnormal about old men who had dutifully been a faithfull husband and caring father, adicted to standing up in a small outboard fishing boat, testing that they are still alive by fishing the breakers on the bar of the Nehalam River.

Fortunately, through the magic of new-fangled digital video showing that “moving pictures are words,” you can see for yourself, that the old men of the sea —proving through experience they understand what they are doing— by risking the embarassment of being rescued by a U.S. Coast Gaurd helicopter swimer, are just as macho as younger bridge bungie jumpers, and hang gliders. Fortunately you can cheat by hiring a fishing guide who can read a tide table.

The five species of Pacific salmon always die after returning from the sea to spawn in freshwater streams. Farm raised Atlantic salmon sometime return two or three times. The local myth is the ultimate tasting Pacific salmon is caught by pole and line, just as leaving the sea.

Having eperienced the freshest, of the fresh, know, perhaps they are right — and the experience is worth the effort.