Fire Cloud...
An irregular marking on the exterior of Native American pottery: usually resulting from burning fuel coming in direct contact with the vessel during firing

Monday, 6 July 2009

Fishing Report

Trinidad, California

We watched the shadows lengthen on the Wimbledon courts in the early California morning. Good playing on both sides. Mrs. Phred hides in the bedroom on critical points. She is afraid she will bring Roddick bad luck if she watches. Most of the time this works.

After the game, I went by myself to see the Trinidad State Beach. Mrs. Phred wanted a stay at home day to wash clothes and clean up the RV. I need to fix the tow wires again and check the tire pressures and generator oil before we leave tomorrow.

They are not allowed to fish for salmon in California again this year. The returning salmon population has fallen off a cliff during the last six years. The problem is thought to be declining water volume and quality in the rivers. As agriculture draws more water into canals and then returns it to the rivers, the water temperature rises and the water quality and volume diminishes with the addition of insecticides, fertilizers and other pollutants.

The Shenandoah leaves on an afternoon fishing trip at 1 PM. We catch our limit of black rockfish in about three hours. I end up with about ten pounds of rockfish fillets. We cook some in bread crumbs and olive oil for dinner and freeze the rest in portions for two. I make some brown rice and vegetables to go with the fish.

After we limit out, the crew asks if we want to watch them pull crab traps. They have a hydraulic device on one side of the boat (I've forgotten whether it's called the port or starboard side) to pull in the traps.

None of the passengers actually want any of the crabs, so the crew returns them all to the sea.

A great day for fishing. Today we'll visit some of the redwood parks and maybe play some tennis before heading up the Oregon coat on highway 101. I have always wanted a black leather jacket with a chicken on the back.

He wore black denim trousers and motorcycle boots
And a black leather jacket with an eagle on the back
He had a hopped-up 'cicle that took off like a gun
That fool was the terror of Highway 101