When I was young..........Chapter 3
Chapter 3
The other big draw, aside from the “town”, was the river. The Rogue was not very “roguish” as it ran through Agnes, as I recall. It was deep and swift where the ferry crossed. The swirling waters were bottomless as far as I was concerned and monsters lived there.
A couple of the local loggers fished for these monsters from the shore next to the ferry landing. Occasionally they would hook one and fight the fish for some time only to loose it without ever bringing it to the surface. They constantly searched for heavier gear and would, again, engage the fish but the results were always the same. This only served to redouble their efforts for stronger rods and heavier reels until finally they found a “reel” with the right line and “rod” stout enough to move the leviathan from the bottom. A deal was struck and soon they were beside the landing with gear they knew would fetch results! A tow truck: crude, but effective.
I half remember the fish they caught. It was huge, as I recall, but kind of sad hauled up onto the beach. I remember someone picking me up and sitting me straddle the huge fish like a horse. My feet did not touch the ground. It is a faint memory as some of my memories from those days are and I can’t say for certain if I saw and sat the fish or if I just heard the story so many times that it is embedded in my memory as if it happened.
Much clearer is my memory of the ferry. It seemed huge to me as it moved the logging trucks, empty one direction, full the other, back and forth across the river. It was magical. Every time it left the landing it was pushed downstream by the current. It seemed impossible that it could reach the landing on the far shore. It must land downstream and then how would it make its return trip? As it approached the far shore it would slowly start to best the current and steadily gain on the landing, hitting its mark every time.
I would ride the ferry every chance I got and would happily ride back and forth all day if they let me, looking down into the dark green water, seeing downstream places that you could only imagine from the shore. Wondering what lay around the next bend, imagining I was captain of the boat and that it was my hand and not the cable that guided the boat safely ashore. It was my favorite thing. It was the best place.
So began my love of boats.
[ 08-01-2003, 10:24 PM: Message edited by: crabbait ]
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