Oregon150

by Jackie Heifner
Portland, OR

Spring time brings back memories of the hog lines on the Willamette. Getting up in the morning while it was still pitch black so we could find the best spot to anchor. Packing the cooler and the herring. The smell of two stroke oil as the motor started up. My Dad negotiating the river by feel because he knew every nook and cranny. Throwing the anchor off the bow and letting the boat glide into position. Rigging the poles with the coveted herring and giving it just the special touch of anise oil or WD40. Sitting patiently and nervously waiting for the bite. Hours of reading, playing cribbage, or just watching the birds and other fisherman. Pulling anchor when the tugs would blow their horn to enter the mouth of the Clackamas. Setting the hook and yelling “Fish On”. Floating down river to net my fish. Feeling proud as can be because I was a girl and I could rig my line, set my hook, and catch my own fish. A 30 pound Chinook for dinner. Better yet, my Dads smokehouse filled with salmon and apple wood so everyone could smell the wonderful aroma and anticipate the final product.

I am a third generation Oregonian. To this day every time I cross the river over the old bridge in Oregon City or by I-205, I still take a peak over the side to see how many boats are out, and if there are any floating free to net their fish. I love the fact that wild salmon make their journey back to their origins every season like clock work. Even though the runs and regulations have changed in the 40 years since I started fishing, there will always be the allure of the natural and wild process that takes place in the spring. The river is part of my soul. I hope the future generations of Oregonians will be able to keep this memory alive, and preserve the rivers for the fish, the beauty, and the recreational opportunities that we all love about this great place called Oregon.