White smoke and lingcod.......

Ding and I took a drive to Cableguy's in the vain search for waves but unlike the last trip under more or less identical conditions we were not rewarded with anything that induced us into the water. Two people wallowed in the water, one being the girl with the " Leg that breaks like an Orca dorsal fin" paddle(I'm thinking we should all have Indian names).

Methinks Oregon is headed into a June gloom, the weather pattern that plagues Southern Cal many summers. Ours will be different, sans the coastal fog. It will instead be about 46 degrees and rainy with light west winds and three foot surf till October where we will run directly into winter.... I do not have an ounce of Doc's optimism...

In an effort to break out of the funk Ding suggested launching the jetski and I suggested we combine that with the fishing gear and we'd get dinner and some time in on the machine. The southerly winds were pretty light and looked to be holding for the next few hours as we raced back to town to get in the water. Me to the house for jigs and poles, he to the prep for the launch.

Let the clusterfuck begin.........

At Ding's we got the ski running after priming the engine. It sounds good maybe a little smoky but nothing unusual.except for the "Oh shit...." from Ding.  He'd checked the oil and found that the inlet he'd stuffed the gas into was actually where the oil should be going...... Dammmn, now we're headed to Ace for a siphon to take the oil out. That $4 solution takes too long so off to Billy's to see if the local mechanic has a hand pump.... no go..... off to Oregon's best kept secret(you don't really believe it do you? No neither do I), and the Napa store has a pump for $20, this is starting to cost $$$! We're about 2 hours into this now as we pull the last of the fouled oil out of the tank and refill with fresh .

The CF continues....

At the beach dressing into my wettie, the wind now kicked into the fifteen knot range, Ding swings through and barely stops before yelling "I fogot my damn suit.... I'll be right back!" He's soon back in black and with the storm still approaching we head out to the rock(avoiding two whales in the cove) and start casting line in the lee, the calmest of not so calm water. Back and forth cruising over the reef that throws a left that has been ridden it's been said, but not in some years now. The surf wrapping the keyhole is ragged with wind and the temps have dipped into the mid-40's. I get a hit but lose the fish without seeing it, just felt the head shake before it broke off.

This is where the CF goes Keystone Cops on us......

The engine is running well, with only  a few pops to remind us of the mix up but the wind is hitting 20 knots now and I get tagged again, this time landing a nice ling with the hook buried deep in it's nose it has no chance of freeing itself. We bonk the fish and Ding throws it in the box under the console, just as he's about to close the lid white smoke billows out and engulfs him, I can see nothing and Ding the pilot even less!

"Christ the motor's on fire, we're fucked!!!" That was my first thought and as that processes he lifts the box out and pulls up the spewing fire extinguisher and throws it downwind from us. White powder has covered us on the windward side a bad make-op job, but the engine purring along was music! The fish had hit the safety trigger somehow and set off the cannister. Out into the swells we headed for a wash down and rinse, after a couple more trolls and a lost fish we called it a day and headed back to shore with dinner in hand.