Sicherdingdongswolfbegruben. The Germans have a word for nearly everything, I'm told, but just in case they're missing one, I've made this up. Save them trouble. What Brit wouldn't want to save Germans trouble; they've caused us little enough, and we do share royals. This term describes that feeling which comes over a person when a word or phrase he or she has lived with forever suddenly becomes, well, a little odd. Case in point, "to have truck with," as in, "I'll not have truck with any such notion." It comes from the Norman French for "to shop, barter or exchange." Thus a "truuuuuuck," is the thing that those who shop use. Otherwise known, by the Dutch at least, as a winkle. Next time some guy proudly shows you his truuuuuuck, do consider saying, "Nice winkle." Yesterday was Epic Crabbing Day. It began with possibly the worst night's sleep of my life. B. had experienced a version of the same problem, waking at 4:30. To ensure safety, I said out loud that we ought to take this sleep deficit into consideration when coming to decisions and tackling problems. The first of the latter revealed itself almost immediately. Somehow the key to the trailer's lock had fallen from my new and very secure key ring. Nothing for it but to get out the hacksaw. It's often said, at least by guys, that the point of any lock is just to delay a thief, to make thievery difficult enough for other alternatives to seem preferable. In the case of the boat's trailer's lock, that delay was about twenty seconds. Not what one might call long. We arrived to find a completely empty bay. Not one boat in sight. The weather forecast was for rain, with wind speed increasing in the afternoon. It was also a falling tide, so another possible danger, but I had reasoned that the hours we needed would be calm and until the tide turned, crabbing would be safe on the innermost reaches of the bay, upwater of the harbor. But just to be really sure we did what smart folk do...read all the notices, looking for I don't know what, "Warning, the bay will be closed on Mondays for fish schooling purposes." As we were launching, someone else showed up. He had two pieces of information: Mondays are often like this, and harvests have been very meagre since the commercial season opened. One hour later we could see what he meant; we had in our possession one dungeness male of legal size and a rock crab with only one claw. We had also seen one of our shorter lines dragged and held underwater by the current. On a rising tide this would be a problem. As it was, all we had to do was wait for the water level to fall. My suggestion at this point was that we run the auxiliary motor constantly, so that if something were to go wrong, backup would be instantly available. With this arrangement, we headed upwater, looking for where the crab might be hiding. Our luck was in; there followed five hours or so of steady and near-constant harvest until our cooler was completely full of mostly very big males. Then I made an error. My cell phone went off and I decided to take the call. It was an unimportant call, but it lasted long enough and I was slow enough in my thinking that I didn't notice that the tide had turned and was now pushing us inland. I have often said that the ocean needs your complete attention. We were about to run aground on a sandbank. Worse, we were a very long way from the only other boat in the bay and from any house occupants who might spot an emergency flare. The cell phone clearly worked, but I wasn't yet ready to call for rescue. The main motor sits low in the water, so I raised it up. I looked to see if there was any weight which we might toss overboard. The crab harvest was the most obvious answer. I hoped there'd be another solution. I tried using the auxiliary motor both forward and in reverse. No good result. The sand underneath us was too soft to pole off and the current too steady and strong for a paddle to be any use. I looked at how far I'd have to walk through a couple of feet of freezing water in order to get a rope to shore and pull. Again, not a good solution. Then it occurred to me to half tilt the small motor and try to run its propeller that way. With the motor in reverse, there were first some suggestions of motion and then, yes, we were surely moving. But where was a safe passage to the channel? As soon as I thought the hull free enough, I turned the boat and steered, watching the depth finder and hoping. We made it. Happy to take a hint, we pulled the last of the rings and traps and headed for home. Dinner for twelve followed. Today is grim with rain. I'm feeling stiff and tired, but really quite pleased with the world. The Germans probably have a word for the feeling that follows not being aground in a cold and empty bay on a day when all sensible people are at work, or shopping. Carry on. David Ritchie, Portland, Oregon------------------------------------------------------------------ To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html