Thus endeth another shrimping season on Hood Canal. And what a
season it was. Shrimpers had wind, rain, hail, sun, plenty of big,
juicy spot shrimp, and a bonus day courtesy of the demigods at the
Washington Department of Fish & Wildlife.
And the extreme shrimper award of the year goes to… Jerome
Tramill of Vaughn, who lives by the creed, “The heck with fingers …
save the pots.”
Unlike the opening day of shrimping, yesterday, the last day of
the spot shrimp season, was mild and gorgeous. This according to
editor David Nelson, who took the day off to go shrimping (he works
Saturday). David got his limit and has promised us a free lunch
tomorrow – yes there is such a thing. Please be gumbo, please be
gumbo.
The opening day of shrimping season was, weather-wise, a whole
‘nother kettle of fish. Tramill and his wife Alma are seasoned
shrimpers not apt to let a little wind and rain stop them. But that
first Saturday in May was, in Tramill’s words, “a pretty tough day
on the water. The wind kicked up. We decided to pull up and get the
heck out of there.”
Tramill started the motor on his electric pot puller, and the
machinery cranked against the drift and the tide. The boat was
pitching around, and Tramill found himself off balance. Then “in
the blink of an eye” he found his hand tangled in the line, the
puller grinding on. He shut the motor down and had to cut the line
to free his mangled fingers. From the angle of his little finger,
he was pretty sure it was broken. “It turned out to be worse than
broken,” said Tramill, who ended up losing half of his pinkie in
the accident.
His other digits weren’t in such good shape either. Blood gushed
from his hand, dripping on the deck. Holding the severed line with
his uninjured left hand, he wrapped the right with a T-shirt. Then
he considered the pot.
It wasn’t just about the shrimp, but the darn thing cost a
pretty penny. “I decided, rather than throw 100 bucks away, I’d
pull it in. That was a killer,” Tramill said.
I personally can attest how tough it is to pull pots by hand,
even with two good hands. My experience includes all of 15 minutes,
helping haul pots while on assignment for the story, “Shrimp
Abundant on Hood Canal This Year.” I had to lean my whole body
into each tug, and even wearing gloves, my palms and fingers stung
when I and my kind host, the owner of the gear, wrestled the pot
over the side of the boat.
Tramill tugged and hauled and grunted with the effort for what
seemed like an eternity, his wife — by his description — keeping up
an increasingly shrill volley of expletives. When at last he
hoisted the pot into the boat, it had all of about 15 shrimp
inside. Tramill speculates most of the little buggers probably
escaped because his injury prevented him from hauling the pot in
smoothly.
He eyed the line to the second pot, but pain and his wife’s
common sense prevailed. With Alma at the wheel, they headed against
the wind, toward shore. Tramill credits his wife with navigating
the boat through some of the nastiest chop he’s ever seen. It took
them about an hour to reach the boat launch at Twanoh State Park,
where they were met by EMTs from Mason County Fire District,
station 2.
“When they pulled into the dock, there was a good amount of
blood in the entire boat,” said firefighter EMT Brian Johnson, who
noted the extreme weather. “It was rough out there. It was
gangbusters,” he said.
Tramill, on the other hand, was remarkably calm. “He was in
really good spirits and more concerned about his shrimp than
anything else,” Johnson said.
A buddy showed up to take care of Tramill’s boat and equipment.
According to Johnson, Tramill, as he was being loaded into the
ambulance, exhorted the buddy to “get those things on ice.”
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