DECEMBER 28, 2018, KEIZERTIMES, PAGE Bd
Buford and the Willamette Sturgeon
By G.I. WILSON
Buford is prepared to give
another one of his fi shing
presentations at the Cross-
roads Merc and Feeds.
A crowd has gathered
to experience another of
B u f o r d ’s
breathtak-
ing
fi sh-
ing adven-
tures. These
events are
well publi-
cized and al-
ways attract
a crowd.
Buford
has
the
means--a
modern day
Jed Clampett--to take trips
they can only dream of. He
has traveled all over the world
on exciting fi shing trips. He
is a master story teller. He
has that captivating ability to
keep a group mesmerized.
Tillie, owner/manager, has
mopped and polished the
well-worn hardwood fl oors.
Decks of playing cards and
boxes of dominos have all
been put away for the occa-
sion.
Every available bench, ap-
ple crate, fi ve-gallon bucket,
and bale of hay have been
taken.
The pungent aromas of
fresh vegetables, fruits, grains
and freshly ground coffee fi ll
the air.
An old belt-driven ceiling
fan struggles to keep the hot,
humid air moving.
Tillie has fi lled a #3 wash
tub with ice and RC Colas,
and opened a fresh box of
salted Planters peanuts. No
treat, on a humid southwest-
ern afternoon, quite so satis-
fying as salted Planters pea-
nuts dumped into a bottle of
cold RC.
Buford takes his place on
his favorite stool. All conver-
sation stops.
He clears his throat. “As
ya’ll know, I”ve been on an-
other trip. Always wanted to
catch one of them monster
white sturgeon. Did my re-
search, best place, O-re-gon’s
Willa-mette River.
“They say their words
different than we do down
car.’ Said, ‘Hook a big one,
have to keep him away from
that car. They get in there and
break off.’
“I thought maybe he was
pulling my leg, you know, a
guide joke.
“Time
to
an-
chor up
and fi sh.
Captain
has
an
anchor
looks big
enough
to hold
the Ti-
— Buford
tanic.
Then I
begin to
see how powerful this river is.
I have never seen a river this
powerful and swift.”
“How swift was it?” Billy
asks weakly, as afraid to inter-
rupt.
“Well, we were anchored
under a high bridge. The
current would grab the shad-
ow of the bridge and take it
downriver 20-30 feet before
turning it loose.”
Dead silence. A peanut
bounces off the wooden
fl oor, sounds like a golf ball.
Tillie giggles.
A group exhale sends
Planters wrappers fl ying
across the room.
Buford has sucked them in
again.
After the laughter subsides,
Buford continues with new
vigor.
“About that powerful cur-
rent, we had to use 16 oz of
“Told ‘em I wanted to hire best
captain on the river. And I did.
Captain Don. He knows sturgeon.
I think with his fancy e-lec-tronicks,
he can dang near read
a sturgeon’s mind.”
here. But I say them like Curt
Dowdy did, on the Wide
World of Sports years ago.
Good enough for old Curt,
good enough for me.
“They don’t even say
salmon like we do. They say
‘samen.’
“Told ‘em I wanted to
hire best captain on the riv-
er. And I did. Captain Don.
He knows sturgeon. I think
with his fancy e-lec-tronicks,
he can dang near read a stur-
geon’s mind.”
“Well we cruised around
with him showing me all
these fi sh on the screen. He
pointed out smaller ones.
Some were moving upriver.
Showed me schools of four-
to-six footers, then big ones,
seven-to-nine feet, holding
behind boulders the size of a
Volkswagen.
“Then, he pointed out ‘the
lead to get our bait to the
bottom and, it is only 20 feet
deep.
“Talk about real bait. Cap-
tain opens up a cooler and
pulls out a two-pound shad
and uses the whole darned
thing. Uses a 13/0 hook.
Looks like a hay hook. He
winds up that bait with all
kind of hitches and weaves
the hook through it.
“Captain casts the bait 25-
30 yards downriver. ‘You need
a lot of line out so they can’t
detect any movement when
you pick up the rod.’
“He explains how these are
huge fi sh but very picky biters.
‘They may fool around with
the bait 5-10 minutes before
they take it. Key is patience.
Let them pull off 10-15 feet
of line, swim away with it,
then set the hook, hard.’
“It’s my lucky day. Haven’t
fi nished my cup of coffee
when the tip of that heavy rod
begins to slowly dip down.
“I can see line slowly
coming off the big reel. Soon
the rod starts loading up and
line buzzing off.
“Captain
walks
me
through, ‘Gently pick up the
rod. We want him to take
20-25 yards of line. Flip the
switch and engage the drive.
Set the hook as hard as you
can. Fish on.’
“Tell you boys, I’m hooked
to a runaway missile. Line is
smoking off that reel, and
I’m hanging on with all my
might.”
‘He’s coming up. He’s
coming up,’ Captain yells.’
“Hundred yards out this
beautiful, historic monster
blasts out of the water like
a missile from a nuclear sub.
Must have created a minor
tsunami for the immediate
area.”
“Well, he takes off like the
proverbial cat on a hot tin
roof. Captain breaks loose
from the anchor. We cover
over a mile without slowing
down, then makes a U-turn
and head back upriver into
that heavy current.
“I gain yards, he takes them
back. We make it back to
where we hooked up.
‘He’s headed for the car,’
Captain Don hisses. ‘You’re
gonna lose ‘em.’
“Well, I dig in, bury the
butt of the rod in my gut.
That heavy rod buckles down
almost to the water, vibrating
and making a buzzing sound.
Figure it could explode any
minute.”
“Danged monster keeps
taking line as Captain Don
maneuvers the boat trying to
pull away from the car.”
By now Buford has totally
immersed himself into the
action, leaning forward and
coming up in rod pumping
motions, eyes bugged out,
veins in his neck bulging,
sweat dripping from his
handsome stash.
His actions are so vivid,
half the group is swaying back
and forth with him.
“Feel him wiggle into that
old car,” Buford whispers,
almost out of breath. “I feel
the braided line sawing on
metal.
“I wasn’t going to give up
that easy,” Buford almost blasts
out, with a fi rm grip on the
imaginary rod.
“I dig my heels into the
side of the boat, bury the butt
of that rod in my crotch, and
keep reefi ng.
“He will saw the line on
metal and break it,’ Captain
says, but I dig in that much
harder. I gain two feet, then
lose three.”
Suddenly, Buford stops.
Relaxes. Picks up his RC
Cola, dumps in some peanuts,
and takes a healthy swig.
“You know, boys, I still
think I could have got him
out of that car, but he rolled
up the danged window.”
crossword
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