Paralyzed vets group enjoys day of fishing


By Henry Miller • Statesman Journal
September 3, 2009
By Henry Miller • Statesman Journal • September 3, 2009

DEPOE BAY — "Should I make a grunting sound when you're reeling it in for me?" Toney Marx said jokingly as he wrestled with permanently half-clenched hands to hand off the bobbing fishing rod to Scott Shelton of Albany.

Shelton, Marx's longtime friend and fishing assistant, grinned as he cranked up the black rockfish. No sound effects needed.
You get a lot of that kind of humor when you're on a half-day ocean charter fishing with members of the Oregon Paralyzed Veterans of America. About half of them, including Marx, are in wheelchairs.

He's the president of the OPVA, which is headquartered in Salem.
"They got me by doughnuts," Marx said jokingly about his elevation to the post. "They said, 'We've got an apple fritter. Want to come to a meeting?' So I did ... and they made me president."
It's been more than a decade of shopworn jokes, rockfish and crabs and helping the "Coasties" from the Coast Guard station lift the wheelchairs onto and out of his boat, said skipper Darrell Hobbs of Tradewinds Charters Depoe Bay.

"Let's see, I got this boat in '96, and it the year after that," Hobbs said about the three to four trips a year chartered by the OPVA on the 50-foot Kadaho.

It's a dedicated group of anglers, he added.
"I tell you what, I've only had one or two trips canceled," Hobbs said, that despite high seas, drenching rain and roaring wind. "It's a great bunch of guys, it really is."
The ocean and weather were not a problem on this trip, the last of the season.

The ocean was almost pond-like as the Kadaho motored north, dropping off 10 crab pots en route to a rockfish reef about three-quarters of a mile straight out from Chinook Winds Casino in Lincoln City.

The Oregon Paralyzed Veterans go to bat on disability claims and lobby and fight for people with disabilities on issues such as access and opportunities.

But outings such as fishing and hunting trips and competitive sports from trap and rifle shooting teams to wheelchair basketball are a way of showing the disabled that they can get back in the game.

"Our biggest thing is to get people out of their house," Marx said. "Don't use your disability as an excuse not to get involved.

"It comes down to one thing; it's ability, not disability. Our goal is making a difference that lasts a lifetime."
Making a difference for people such as Steve Hickam of Salem.
"This is the first one I've been on, because I've been to sick to go on one," Hickam said about his multiple sclerosis.
He was with his son, Joe, 14, who held dual titles as both the luckiest and unluckiest angler on board the Kadaho.
Joe caught the biggest fish of the day, a massive, toothy 31-pound, 6-ounce lingcod.
On the flip side, he also was one of the few anglers on board who didn't buy into the winner-take-all big-fish side pot for $5.
"It was a hitchhiker; that's what we call it," said first mate Gene Stump of Toledo.
Hickam had hooked a rockfish, and the lingcod had grabbed ahold of it, tenacious as a gila monster all the way into the net, Stump explained.
Thanks to some quick net work, Hickam got a two-fer. Both fish made it onto the boat.
His young age didn't spare the youngest angler aboard from a little verbal abuse, though.
"He brought that with him when he came on board in his backpack," one offered. "I saw it."
"It's not real. It's inflatable," another offered.

It was the boat ride with the group for Bill Gray of Coos Bay, despite participating in other OPVA-sponsored sports.
"This is my first time down," he said, then smiled. "On a day like today, you can't beat it."
Another Navy vet and avid angler who owns his own boat, Paul Dahlke of Gresham, said he was on the fence for awhile before giving the half-day fishing trip a try.

"I've know about it for awhile, but it took me awhile to commit," he said. "I haven't done this since I was a kid.
From skiing, sledding and snowmobiling to whitewater rafting and boating, if someone wants to try it, the OPVA will try to make it happen, Marx said.
The baskets began to fill with rockfish.
"One more spot," Hobbs said, maneuvering the boat for one more pass before heading back for the crab pots.
(3 of 3)

Two, no three, more black rockfish were hoisted over the side.


"It just goes to show that we can do anything," said Bob Brush of Lakewood, Wash. "But I think a lot of people are afraid to test the waters."
One thing that you find out when you end up in a chair is that you can't take anything for granted.
"Every day's a gift," he said. "You don't put off anything anymore."
And you find it hard to feel sorry for yourself when you watch one sporting event in which the guys in power chairs were so disabled that the only way to maneuver was a "sip-and-puff" controller using your mouth and air pressure, added Jack Howell of Newberg, the OPVA sports director.
They were using their chairs to play a full-throttle version of wheelchair rugby known as "murder ball" at the national games, Howell said.
"It makes you think 'nothing's wrong with me,' " he said, adding, "I figure the more I do, the less I think about my problems."
Howell's story, like many aboard the Kadaho, was not without a touch of irony.
The military decorations stickers on the back of his chair included a Purple Heart.

"I was wounded twice in Vietnam, but that didn't put me in the chair," he said. "A motorcycle accident did."
He thought for a minute.
"Actually," Howell said. "I think I do more now than I did before I was hurt."


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