Odds and Ends

This is a photo that didn't make it into the last post. But the ship was so cool and its history even cooler, so I just had to include it. The ship is called the Mary D. Hume, built in 1881 in a shipyard less than two hundred feet from where it now sits in the Rogue River estuary by Samuel Hume, who named it honor of his wife, Mary Duncan Hume. It was originally built as a two-masted schooner, and used for many years to haul lumber and other commercial goods up and down the Oregon coast. In the early 1900's, it was sold, and sailed up to Alaska, where it was used as a whaling ship for 10 years, including the longest whaling voyage in history--6 continuous years at sea. Many of the sailors died of scurvy, madness, and other things, and were frozen in blocks of ice until they could be brought home and buried. After that, the Mary D. Hume returned to Gold Beach, used again commercially, then refitted as a tugboat, and served faithfully in this capacity until 1978, when she was retired and grounded near where she was built. Besides being the longest commissioned boat in history, she has never had a name change--she was the the Mary D. Hume from the day she first set sail until she ended her career nearly a hundred years later.

After our jetboat ride, we spent the night in Jerry's parking lot. Not as bad as it sounds--actually very quiet and pleasant. The next morning we left the coast behind and headed east over the mountains past Eugene, and camped in a NFS campground called Paradise, on the McKenzie River. After that, another long day (for us--6 hours) to Union Creek, another NFS campground, south of Baker City. We had stayed there on our way to the coast back in June, and hoped we could stay there again. This time we were able to stay two nights, and rode our mountain bikes on the shoreline trail. It was beautiful singletrack, mostly level, and it wound around the lake through meadows and open forest. Easy riding, except that I misjudged the height of one of the little wooden bridges over a stream; my front wheel hit the edge instead of going up over it and came to a sudden stop. In accordance with Newton's Law ("an object in motion tends to stay in motion"), I kept going, slamming my chest into the handlebars and my thighs hard onto the wooden bridge. It knocked the wind out of me, but no serious damage, other than a matching pair of saucer-sized bruises on my thighs. I'm going to look really gross in shorts for the next week or so.

And speaking of shorts, after the low 70's temps of the coast for the past two months, we are finally experiencing summer. We are camped at Three Islands Crossing State Park in Glenn's Ferry ID, and it was in the high 90's today. Burley tomorrow will be about the same. I'm glad I don't have to do a triathalon in that kind of heat!

Rogue River Adventure

Our jet boat ride on the Rogue River was AWESOME! We did the 80 mile trip--6 hours, with some whitewater. Captain Tim did his best to make sure that everyone got real wet. We were actually in the very front row of seats, right behind the windshield, and didn't get wet at all--the water whooshed right up the windshield and landed on everyone behind us. The weather got hot, so we actually ended up standing up to catch some of the water and cool off. Captain Tim, whose second job is being a Lutheran minister, was an excellent guide. He was great at spotting wildlife, and would stop the boat and make sure everyone saw whatever it was before moving on. He was very knowledgeable about the history of the river and the plants and animals living there. He also was a jokester with a totally deadpan delivery, and also made up lots of totally outrageous "facts" about the flora and fauna. One example: the big plastic balls threaded in the power lines strung across the river (actual purpose is to alert aircraft to the presence of power lines) are filled with salt that falls out onto the water when the wind blows so the salmon that swim upriver to spawn can transition more easily from ocean to fresh water. Another example: Q: What causes foam in the river? A: Monkeys "tinkling" from the tops of madrona trees into the river. The one who "tinkles" farthest earns the right to mate with the lady monkeys. All this with a totally straight face. It was hilarious. Well, maybe you had to be there.

He also told us some interesting true (I think!) facts. The Rogue was one of the 8 original rivers to get the "Wild and Scenic" designation by Congress in the late 60's. Basically, that means that no dams could be built on it, although there were already two dams on it that were grandfathered it. Tim showed us a spot in the river called Copper Canyon where another dam was proposed and planned, blueprints completed. The dam bill and the Wild and Scenic Rivers bill were both proposed in that particular session of Congress; the river bill won and the dam plans had to be scrapped.

And oh, the wildlife! Great Blue Herons and a Great Egret, which is the largest of the egrets. Many osprey, some sitting on nests, some perched in trees and some flying over the river. Bald Eagles--a couple of mature ones, and one juvenile (looks like s small Golden Eagle--no white head till the second year)Several Columbia Blacktail Deer, which is the most common deer in Oregon. They are smaller than Whitetailed or Mule Deer, and there are more of them than the other two species put together. Their only predator is the cougar, and there are lots of cougar. Each cougar eats about a deer a week, but it doesn't seem to diminish the deer population much. A cow elk grazing next to the river. A raccoon, wading in the water, digging around with his front paws for snails or crayfish. He was funny to watch because, even though he was in water almost up to his belly, he held his tail up so it stayed high and dry. And best of all--a family of river otters; five or six of them. Tim cut the motors and we just drifted along, watching them swim, play in the rocks, and watch back at us. River otters are my favorite animal. No, more than that. If I were a Native American, on a vision quest, fasting and praying for my spirit animal to come and speak to me, it would be a river otter that would come.

Harris Beach State Park

This parks boasts the most scenic beach of anywhere we've stayed on the coast thus far. There are sea stacks and a big island right off shore, and wonderful tide pools. Yesterday morning at low tide, Ellie tried to introduce herself to a red rock crab, but he was not interested in making new friends. The island right off shore is called Goat or Bird Island (it seems to have two names). The person owned the land used to run goats on the island before he donated the land to the state. Now it's a bird sanctuary; thousands of bird go there to breed and nest, including the rare tufted puffin. Some of the campsites have ocean views (ours doesn't), and it's just a short walk down to the beach. It's a small park, family-friendly as all the state parks in Oregon seem to be. This one has a little laundromat right on-site; an ice cream truck from nearby Brookings rolls through the campground twice a day, ringing its bell, selling bagged ice and ice cream bars.

The Samuel Boardman State Park and Scenic Corridor begins just north of here, and stretches for 12 miles along the coast. It roughly parallels Hwy 101 along the ocean, and there are many picnic and view areas along it, which also link the southern segments of the Oregon Coast Trail. Samuel Boardman is called the father of Oregon state parks, because he worked tirelessly to preserve coastline for the poeple of Oregon. The deal on this particular 12-mile stretch of extraordinarily scenic coastline was sealed on the eve of his retirement in 1950, and was named in his honor after his death 3 years later. What a legacy! We hiked from Lone Ranch Picnic Area, over Cape Ferrelo to House Rock Viewpoint--about 4 miles roundtrip. It was gorgeous, as you can see from the pictures. Meadows of wildflowers, deep woods, spectacular ocean views.

Tomorrow we have another "1000 Things to See Before You Die" adventure--a jetboat tour of the Rogue River. The Rogue River begins in Crater Lake and tumbles its way through the wilderness to the ocean. It's famous for its wild whitewater rapids, as well as the salmon fishing on its more placid lower end. The whitewater trip is a 3-dayer--not an option for us. Instead, we're doing a 6 hour, 80 mile jetboat tour starting at Gold Beach. The lower part of the trip is in the calm part of the river where we ought to be able to see a lot of wildlife, and then we'll get into about 20 miles of Class 2 rapids. Not big rapids, but it should provide a few thrills.

On Monday, we'll leave the coast and stat heading east. We had originally planned to drive south-ish, possibly visiting Crater Lake first, then heading into California, picking up I-80 in Truckee and coming home across Nevada. Change of plans. Ted and Molly are doing the Spudman Triathalon in Burley ID next Saturday. They don't have a babysitter for 19-month old Jackson, and wondered if we'd be available to meet them there and watch Jack while they swim the Snake River, cycle 20 miles, and run a 10K. Of course we would!

Ellie and her Flock

At all our campsites along the coast, Ellie and I have gone on a long, early morning walk on whatever beach we've been at. At Bullard's Beach, our most recent site, it was a 1 mile walk to the beach on-leash, then about a half-mile out along the beach off-leash, then back on leash for the walk back to camp on the paved trail. Typically, all this happens about 8 a.m. We leave Steve sipping his coffee and surfing the internet on the laptop. We haven't been able to get a good signal from the campground here, however, so the last two mornings, before we were up and out the door, Steve had packed up his coffee and the laptop and driven the car down to the beach parking lot, where the signal is good.

All went as usual on the walk until we hit the beach parking lot. Ellie of course recognized the car and pulled us over, tail wagging frantically, to greet "Dad," whom she had not seen for all of about 15 minutes. That done, Steve still computing, we headed over the little dune toward the beach. Or at least I headed. Ellie couldn't believe we were leaving Steve behind, to the mercy of who-knows-what. I tugged at the leash, got her over the dune and on the beach, then unsnapped the leash from her collar so she could run, chase sticks, chase gulls, her usual. Instead, she started heading back up the dune towards Steve. "Ellie, come!" She hesitated, then came. Reluctantly. I kept walking. She sat down, looking back toward the way we came. I called her again. She came again, sat down again. We repeated this process several more times. Normally, I don't profess to read minds, especially non-human ones, but I could read Ellie's loud and clear: Are you crazy? Where are you going? What about Dad? We can't just leave him! Something might happen. Something bad! No! No! Don't just keep walking farther and farther away. I have to keep this flock together. That's my job. Come back! Come back! Okay, if you won't come back, I'll come get you. Okay, I've got you, now let's just turn around like a good sheep and. . . oh no, you're doing it again. Listen to me!

After about 20 minutes of this, I gave up, turned around and said with a sigh,"Okay, you win. Go find Dad." Ears up, tail up, she was off like a shot, body low to the ground and running for all she was worth. She must have trusted that once I was turned around in the right direction I would be okay, because I only rated one quick look over her shoulder to make sure I was still coming before she disappeared up the trail and over the dune. When I got back to the parking lot, she was already there of course, lying next to the car, but watchful and alert. Oh, there you are, she seemed to be saying. I knew you'd make it. I got back in the nick of time. There was this attack squirrel. . . .

Catching Up

This post was written Saturday, July 12th, and should have been published then. Unfortunately, we've had a hard time getting a good internete connection at this park. Weird, because it's actually way more open--fewer trees and visible obstacles to signal towers that would be nearby. Yesterday I drove into Bandon, two miles south, and didn't have any better luck there either, although I found out later that there is an internet cafe in town that has WIFI. This morning, while Ellie and I were on our usual morning walk, Steve drove over the the lighthouse and beach area with the laptop and, joy of joys, got 4 bars--a full signal. So here I am now, in the beach parking lot, computer on my lap, finally getting this posted. We had a great paddle this morning on South Slough (pronounced "sloo"), at the town of Caharleston, about halfway between Bandon and Coos Bay. I'm not exactly sure what the dictionary definition of "slough" is; it seems to be a sort of bay off a bay off the ocean, too large to be called an estuary, and too shallow to be called a bay. This one was large lake sized, with many arms and fingers to explore, and maybe only 6 or 8 feet deep. Very peaceful and beautiful, with lots of wildlife, mostly birds--cormorants drying their wings on pylons, kingfishers scolding us from shore, a pair of egrets, black murres fishing. And a surprise. As we were paddling along, we saw what I initially thought was a log bobbing along. As we came closer, we saw it was really a smooth, dark grey spotted back, and then out popped a whiskered face--a harbor seal!

I was able to contact the real estate agent by email about the house we saw for sale on Woahink Lake.She sent me a nice note, with 16 photos of the house, and an offer to take us through it any time, as it is currently vacant. The inside looks beautiful--lots of glass with views of the lake from almost every room. Oh, and a steal for only $749,000. The pictures must have been taken before the boathouse got wrecked because it was still intact. I wonder how much less they'd take. I guess the old saying still applies: "If you have to ask, you can't afford it." Still, it was fun to fantasize.

We did a kayak trip on the Siltcoos River, just a few miles south of Honeyman State Park. Siltcoos Lake is right next door to Woahink Lake and Creawox Lake (where do they get these names?); the flows from the lake three miles down to the ocean. It's a quiet little river, a lot like Beaver Creek, and fun to paddle. We saw a Great Blue Heron, a Belted Kingfisher, and heard what we think was an otter plop from shore to water--he was too quick for us to get more than a glimpse. There is a portage around a little dam about halfway down the river. The photo shows the slide from the top of the dam down to the lower level of river. It wasn't that all, or really that steep, but it was scary to look at. We elected to walk our boats almost to the bottom, and only slide the last several feet. Good choice! The angle was steep enough so that the bow of the boat went under; I got some side to side rocking and was worried about tipping over, but I didn't. It wouldn't have been a disaster if I had--the river was warm and shallow--all I'd needed to do was stand up. We were hoping to get all the way down to the ocean, but it was low tide and the river got shallow very quickly after the portage. After getting stuck on a couple of sandbars, we gave up and turned around. We later found out that you can only go the whole way at high tide; since high tide was at 6:30 a.m., it wasn't an option for us.

Another excursion was to Sea Lion Caves, about 11 miles north of Newport. It's one of those places that screams Tourist Trap; you know the kind I'm talking about--billboards advertising it for miles ahead. However, it was recommended to us by some folks from Eugene who said they'd passed it by for 40 years, but one day they finally stopped. It IS a tourist trap, but an interesting one, and we didn't feel ripped off, even with a $10 admission ticket. Sea Lion Cave is the largest sea cave in the United States. An elevator takes you down 235 feet from the top of the cliff and opens out into the cave, which opens onto the ocean in two different places. There is a chain link fence that separates the tourists from the rocky area and ocean where the sea lions hang out. There were over a hundred of them there, sleeping, diving into the water, climbing out onto the rocks. Back up on the cliff, there was a trail that took you to an outside viewing area as well, where we saw more sea lions sunbathing on the rocks below.

The last thing we did before leaving the Florence area was to go to the Oregon Country Fair. The fair takes places in Veneta, which is about 15 miles west of Eugene and about 40 miles east of Florence, the second weekend in July every year, and is described in the book my friend, Katy O'Banion, gave me for Christmas called "1000 Places to See Before you Die In the US and Canada." The book describes it as a place "to embrace your inner hippie," a one-of-a-kind counterculture arts and crafts fair held in a labyrinth of forested trails, and features over 700 artisans, 14 stages, and more than 50 food booths. We walked around for over 2 hours, and figured we saw about half of it. Even more fun than the scheduled entertainment events was just people-watching. Well over half the visitors, as well as the vendors and volunteers, were in full costume. Fairies, fauns, satyrs, and other fantastic forest folk were everywhere. Whole families, from babies on up were in full regalia. If you didn't come costumed but felt the urge once you got there, you could have you face painted, buy a set of feather wings or a mask, and become part of the scene. Impromptu parades, led by drummers and Chinese dragons, snaked their way through, with anyone who wanted joining in. We watched vaudeville acts, a puppet show, musicians from hip hop to jug band, and a juggler who juggled fiery torches and then played his fiddle atop his 6 foot Unicycle of Doom Doom, Doom. And told very bad jokes.

This morning, we left Honeymoon State Park and drove about 60 miles south to Bullard's Beach State park, two miles north of Bandon. Highway 101 swings inland a bit here, and the Oregon Dunes are between the highway and the ocean, so we couldn't see the ocean at all. Instead of the ocean on our right, we got lake after lake and river after on our left, right next to the highway. We stopped at the Mill Casino for lunch, hoping to hit the much-touted weekend seafood buffet, but alas, it was only available for dinner, not lunch, and we were way too early. We contented ourselves with a nice meal at the restaurant, overlooking Coos Bay, and then moved on (after a brief but refreshing stop at the quilt shop in town).

Bullard's Beach State Park, about two miles north of Bandon, despite the name, is a good mile from the actual beach. The Coquille River is just as close, and flows into the ocean about three miles away; there's a lighthouse there. This is premier paddling country with all the rivers and lakes nearby, and the ranger provided us with a pamphlet full of information about easy paddling trips. We also have some paddling guides to the area that Scott and Jan Bolton, from the Skinny Winnie Rally at Nehalem Bay, lent us, so we ought to be all set for some great paddles.

I Wanna Live HERE

Yesterday, we went on a free, historic walking tour in the park. Honeyman State Park was built in 1938 by the Civilian Conservation Corps. Several of the original buildings are still intact, and several others have been rebuilt according to the original plans. Our tour guide, a volunteer and retired history professor from Bakersfield, CA, and his wife, showed us around and provided interesting information about life in the CCC as well as a demo on how to make cedar shake shingles, de-bark logs for building, and cut stone, all with hand tools, just as it was done originally.

Today, on the recommendation of one of the park rangers, we took our kayaks over to Woahink Lake, about a mile from the campground. It's a large lake, with a nice little beach and day-use area, group tent campsites, and a boat launch on one end. We paddled around looking at the homes built on the lake. Some were obviously summer homes, but many of them looked to be year-round homes. It's kind of a standing joke with us for one or both of us to say "Let's live here," when we come to a pretty new place, and we will drive (or paddle ) around, picking out "our" house. My personal favorite this time was a weathered gray wooden house with cedar shake roof and a huge deck overlooking the water. Steps (way too many steps, according to Steve) leading down to the lake, a boathouse, and a floating, roofed deck with a hot tub. Steve snapped a photo of a house that's for sale, right on the water, and no steps. No fact sheet, but a realtor sign and phone #. Maybe we'll call, just for fun.

Ellie Shows Off

Photos of glass flowers at Edge Gallery in Newport and Heceta Head lighthouse near Cape Perpetua, on the way to Florence.

Yesterday, as Ellie and I were heading out on our morning walk, we we confronted by a small girl, maybe six years old, clad in flowered pink flannel pajamas and clutching a single-serving size box of Trix cereal. She looked at Ellie and said,"Is that a boy dog or a girl dog?" "It's a girl," I replied. "Her name is Ellie." Ellie, meantime, was eyeing the cereal box with interest. The little girl noticed this and raised the box higher. "She can't have my cereal." "Okay," said I. "but she does tricks. If you let me have one, I'll show you." She thought about this for a moment. "Okay, she said finally. "But just one." She reached into the box and come up with a single, bright yellow Trix puff, which she handed to me. Almost before I could even say "Ask Nicely," Ellie was sitting up, front paws in the air, head cocked. I tossed her the treat. Pink Jammies reached into her box again. "One more," she said. I asked Ellie to "shake," first one paw than the other, and tossed her the Trix. " 'Nother one," demanded the girl, and, at my request, gave me two Trix this time. I put Ellie in the "down" position, and placed one Trix on each snowy paw, told her to "Wait." She stared straight ahead, not daring to look for fear she would be tempted. "Okay." She daintily nibbled them up. "That's all," I told the girl. "Thanks for sharing your cereal." As Ellie and I continued on our way, I saw her running back to her camp, shouting, "Mom, Mom, that dog does TRICKS!" I heard Mom reply, "Well, you gave her TRIX."

Good-bye, Soouth Beach, Hello Honeyman

We packed up camp this morning and headed for our next destination--Honeyman State Park, just south of Florence. While Steve was dumping the tanks in the Palms, I did a quick run into Newport to the Rogue Brewery for some Dead Guy Ale to go and a stop at the Edge Gallery, the glass blowers who did all the cool glass at the Coast Aquarium Oddball Exhibit. It's a small gallery on the south edge of town, with large, happy glass-petal flowers "planted" among real wildflowers in front. Inside is a working gallery--glass art for sale in the front, and the work area in back, separated by a clear glass window with seats lined up, inviting people to watch, which I did. I watched as the glassblower dipped his rod into a tub of molten clear glass, then rolled the glob around in a tray of crushed colored glass. He then poked it into the furnace to melt the colored shards, then started blowing and shaping with various tools. I watched him make a vase and a little figurine of a stylized, rearing horse. I got to talk to the artists too--two very nice guys in their twenties--and told them how much I enjoyed the Oddballs exhibit. They seemed to have had a lot of fun doing it, and have a lot of enthusiasm for their work in general. They teach glass blowing classes there too--wouldn't that be fun!

The 50 or so miles from South Beach to Honeyman State Park was the most beautiful drive I've done in a long time. Highway 101 hugs the coast here, giving clear, unobstructed views of the ocean almost the whole way. We saw long, broad, expansive beaches, high cliffs, rocky bays with waves crashing in, dunes, and a lighthouse. It was almost like the whole coast condensed into this one area. Just spectacular. I took some pictures but haven't gotten Steve to load them into the computer yet; if they turn out, I'll add them next post.

Highway 101 turns inland slightly just below Florence. The state park here is at the north end of the Oregon Sand Dunes Recreation Area, which stretches south another 47 miles or so. The park is located at the inland edge of the dunes, and there are actualy two miles of dunes between us and the ocean. Instead, the park is located at the edge of three little freshwater lakes. Although the campground is much larger than South Beach--over 400 campsites as opposed to less than 300--it has a much smaller, more intimate feel. We are in the woods, with Sitka spruce towering over us, and there's lots of lush greenery between sites, so even though the sites aren't necessarily larger, they feel more private. There are more loops in the campground, but the loops are much smaller--maybe only 12 to 15 sites per loop; most of them are well off the main campground road, so you don't get a lot of traffic in your particular loop, only the folks who "live" there. Still, there's a lot going on. A very active junior ranger activity program, evening ranger talks, daily walks and hikes. You can rent paddelboats on a couple of the lakes or take a kayak tour or swim or climb the dunes and roll down. There are other lakes and rivers nearby to paddle, and trails to hike. Florence is just a couple of miles away and it looked to have some good seafood restaurants and fish markets. Oh, and two quilt shops! We're here until the 12th, so we have plenty of time to check it all out.

Catching up

I don't know where the week has gone! I can't believe it's already Saturday night and we are leaving in the morning for our next destination. It's been as usual, a busy time.
Tuesday or maybe Wednesday(I've lost track) we rode our bikes on the trail into Newport. It's a nice bike path, paved, and only about a mile or so long. Once in town, however, it kind of peters out. We rode an additional half mile or so along the estuary by the Hatfield Marine Science Center and the aquarium, but that was about all we could do, unless we wanted to get on Hwy 101 and go over the bridge into the main part of Newport, which we didn't. Big bridge, no bike lanes. You'd have to walk the bikes on the pedestrian lane. Instead, we pulled in at the Rogue Brewery and had lunch. We had a table next to the window this time, and got to look out at the boats coming and going in the marina, which was fun. Steve had a glass of Shakespeare Stout with his meal, which wasn't nearly as good as the Dead Guy Ale. Wednesday (or possibly Thursday) we hung around camp most of the day. Steve amused himself luring the local wildlife with granola and whole grain tortilla chips and trying to photograph them. This is a spotted squirrel, very fat, and obviously very accustomed to people. He let Steve get within about five feet of him. The crows, which may be the unoffical bird of the Oregon coast, were not as brave, but they were fun to watch from the dinette window. They would fly in with their beaks full of stale bread, raided from unsecured garbage, drop the bread into Ellie's water dish to soften up, then pick out the little squishy globs and eat them. Thursday (I think) we went geocaching. Geocaching is a treasure hunt; shortly after handheld GPS units became available to the general public, someone walked into the woods, hid something there, noted the GPS coordinates, and challenged some friends to find it, using the coordinates. It's become an international game, with literally thousands of caches hidden all over the world. Cache containers can vary in size from very small (a film canister, e.g.) to "regular"--an ammo can. At a minimum, the cache contains a log to sign, and can contain little goodies to trade--coins, small toys, etc. It's especially fun to do with kids. Steve and I have actually hidden three caches in Utah. If you want to give it a try, go to www.geocaching.com to get locations of caches near you. This particular cache was right here in the state park. An easy walk to the beach, but a bit tricky to find. We knew from the hints that it was under the boardwalk, but couldn't find it at first. Turns out it was very cleverly hidden inside a hollowed out chunk of weathered wood that exactly matched the wooden beam it was velcroed to!

Friday (yesterday) was the 4th of July. Kids and a few grownups decorated their bicycles and scooters with balloons, crepe paper, spangles, and bunting provided by the state park at the Activity Yurt, and, at 11 a.m. paraded through all the camping loops, led by the Junior Ranger mascot, J.R. Beaver. Lots of fun--must have been 50-75 bikes. The parade was followed by a barbeque, hosted by the rangers and camp hosts, with free hot dogs, chips, and drinks. When it started to get dark, we walked down to the jetty to view fireworks. Very fun. Today we drove over the bridge to "historic bayfront," the old area of town right on Yaquinna Bay, where the official port of Newport is located and the marina where the working boats dock. It's a fun, touristy area that's a mixture of upscale and tacky--Ripley's Believe It or Not and The Living Wax Museum right next door to expresso bars and upscale galleries. We had lunch at a restaurant overlooking the pier, with a great view of people crabbing--very entertaining. Afterwards, we walked out on the pier for a closer look. We watched folks tie chunks of fish onto the crab rings, toss them over the railing into the water, wait a while and haul them up to see if they'd caught anything. A crab ring is a collapse-able wire mesh basket with a long rope tied to the top. When you throw it into the water, it opens out flat when it hits the bottom. Crabs crawl onto it to eat the fish. When you haul it up with the rope, hand over hand, the sides come up, forming a basket, so the crab can't escape. If he's big enough, you keep him. Otherwise, you throw him back and try again. Easy and fun, and very popular. There were actually deep grooves worn into the rails on the pier from years of ropes.