The idyllic village of Westport – nestled on a peninsula that marks the southern mouth of Grays Harbor – was a mecca for seafaring, fishing and a timeless dance with nature since before humans started keeping account of their history.
Today whale watching has replaced slaughtering; roads that once rumbled with logging trucks now await bikers, hikers and sightseers, and charter boats take tourists to watch wildlife or land fish for sport. Indeed, Westport claims the title “Sportfishing Capital of the World” as anglers head to the waters throughout the year in search of all manner of catch, from salmon to lingcod, halibut, rock fish and tuna.
Thw following is Westport thu the eyes of “Uncle Sam I Am“
We were imediatly greeted by, what else, Sealions:
An itch:
Don’t bother me – - i’m sleeping:
Co-habitating along with the “lions” are rows and rows of commercial fishing boats:
To me it doesn’t matter the view, one is as beautiful as the next:
Come on guys – let me on – i promise to carry my weight – 0 well:
Shucks – their leaving with out me:
Ever wonder how dungeness crabs are caught? Your correct – traps. . .
dungeness crab pots: (yum yum probably as good a crab i have ever tasted.
Okay – another day in the life of “Uncle Sam I AM” – next Kurt Corbain
























































































