"A two bourbon twilight, fog from God's cigar...*

 Short 'n sweet: some random images from my day of reconnaissance, in preparation for my day of fishing. (Tomorrow, 1:00 PM - 7:00 PM PST to catch the incoming tide in the estuarine Trask & Tillamook rivers, for fall run Chinook).

Ocean Bay Spit. (That's the name of the beach, though it could be a name for a Portland punk band.  Do they still make punk bands?) I thought the fish-shape of this chunk of waterlogged wood was sorta' cool, given it's locational context.  It must have weighed over fifty pounds, and was at least a mile away from the Sabbatmobile, or I might have taken it as a treasure. 

Had lunch at The Fisherman's Korner, Garibaldi Point; one oyster and one razor clam.  No I'm not dieting: the oyster (ordered as an oyster shooter) was a Netarts oyster the size of a hen's egg, and the clam, flattened and deep fried, was the size of a two egg omlette.  Garibaldi is a blue collar, combination lumber and fishing town; this marina shares a large, industrial park-ish area with a Coast Guard station, two bar/restaurants (the Korner being one of those) a seafood distribution warehouse and at least three charter fishing operations, and to get to it, you have to drive through the middle of a busy lumber mill, dodging forklifts slinging loads of raw logs around.  It was sorta late in the day for lunch, but too early for the Korner's evening crowd, so I was alone in the lounge, save for five guys arranged around one booth.  These guys was real fisherman-ish, and not sports fisherman- pros, that work big boats for a living.  Could have walked into that bar right out of the pages of a seafaring saga.

Bar jetty, at the jaws of Tillamook bay. Way too rough and windy today; monster on-shore wind blasting sea mist into a hazy cloud that left a thin layer of salt-grime on everything in it's path. But I'm told that rock fish, cabezon, greenling and even the occasional ling cod can be had along the rocks, and the chinook run right up the mouth of the bay here. But this is a pretty intimidating fishing hole, even in fair weather; just figuring out how to get your bait to where the fish are without getting soaked or crashing on the rocks yourself is a challenge, and then if you're lucky enough to hook one, the trouble really starts. Not for the casual tourist; you have about as much chance going in as the fish does coming out.

Another windy, kinda spooky night alone here.  Big gusts cause sounds like footfalls upstairs, and I left a window open so they swing the door up there too, which then emits classic radio suspense-drama sound effect groans....

...........better go check it out.

* Greg Brown, Spring and All