Lone Wolf of the Marina

The last in a series of articles on the Ocean Shores Marina:

Larry Thevik is a bitter disappointment . . . to anyone in search of the stereotypical fisherman.

Hearing that this guy has been crab fishing out of the Ocean Shores Marina for 38 years, one might expect a surly, grizzled, growling, patch-eyed, parrot-on-the-shoulder sailor.

Instead of a parrot, Thevik has Andy, a friendly if excitable little Schipperke (Flemish barge guarding dog).

Thevik is as articulate as a trial attorney, as even-tempered as a pastor.

There is one facet of his nature where he matches up perfectly with the stereotypical captain: he’s stubborn.

Why else would he still be in this marina, once a bustling little port with as many as 100 fishing and sport vessels, now a veritable ghost dock?

As an Ocean Observer profile once observed, “When he arrived, at least 20 commercial fishing boats and 10 to 12 charter boats operated out of the Ocean Shores Marina. Today his Midnight Star is the only one to remain year round despite such daunting obstacles as and undredged marina entrance . . .”

And that was 1991.

Seventeen-plus years later, the dredging is still needed, and Thevik is still at it.

“I sit in the mud at low tide,” he says. “That’s the fundamental reason the Marina is not more operative than it is. They could build a nice office, put in a new parking lot and it wouldn’t matter, if there’s no water in the Marina.”

The Ocean Shores Marina is the butt of jokes, on the harbor. Late Monday afternoon, Thevik took his boat to Westport, rolling over waves big enough to turn a reporter’s stomach upside down. For Thevik it was an easy trip, off to get gas for the week’s fishing.

While getting fuel, Thevik related a story about how some Ocean Shores fishermen back in the Sixties landed a 3,000 pound shark.

The Westport fuel operator cracked added a joke: “But the shark couldn’t get into the Marina, because of the water!”

Kidding aside, Larry Thevik has thought about a solution to the Marina problem quite a bit, pretty much every day for years.

“In my mind, the solution I’d like to see or propose is to see if there couldn’t be a long-term leasing arrangement between the city and Quinault Nation (owners of the Marina) . . .  the city could step in to bring the benefit of public control and quasi-ownership, they could petition for grants, rekindle Department of transportation interest . . .”

In Larry Thevik’s eyes, it’s kind of sad, this Marina thing.

“It used to be one of the primary economic engines of this town, in the 70s.”

Now?

“It’s kind of like a dead bird hanging around your neck.”

And yet he stays here, anchored deep into Ocean Shores.

“Old habits die hard,” the 61-year-old says, with a rueful chuckle. “That’s why we’re still here. We moved to Ocean Shores in 1971, after I graduated from college at the University of Washington. That was the year there was a sign that said ‘Will the last person leaving please turn out the lights?’ It was a tough time, and there was a fishing fleet out of Ocean Shores, so my wife and I came out. And liked it.

“It’s our home. As long as we can float the boat and can get in and out, I’ll do it.”

Ever been tempted to move to Westport, home to most of the Harbor’s commercial fishermen?

“It probably would have made sense, but my wife has work here in Ocean Shores, and we didn’t want to have that kind of a commute.”

His wife, Karen, worked first at Marina restaurant, as a waitress- bartender. In the early 90s, Larry and Karen went fishing in Alaska. “She crewed on a boat for three years there. When I come home and say ‘We had a bad day,’ she knows what I mean.”

(Karen now works for the City, as Public Works coordinator.)

Still, he keeps going at it, day in, day out. When the weather isn’t too bad, this time of year, he and a crew (Adam Bridges, Tiger Wulf, Denny Hieronymus) sail out of the Marina and fish for crab just a few miles off Ocean Shores, dropping pots and pulling them up for 12, 14 hours a day.

The best and worst things about commercial fishing?

“Some of the worst things are when the ocean turns into a very bad place to be. All you can do is endure, hang on and try your best to get in, get home. The other part that’s bad is tribal sharing issues are always problematic, certainly has changed the way we do things. . .. 

The good: “It’s pretty fun to see the bounty that’s out there. When it’s calm weather and the fishing is good, you’re able to see the bounty that’s out there, and the beauty of the ocean.

“. . . the ocean hides a lot of treasure and hides a lot of beauty. I’ve been going out there for 38 years. Seeing that abundance, that’s a joyful and positive thing. The other part of it is to be able to see whales breaching. . . it’s a beautiful place to work. It’s a threatening place, but it’s also beautiful.”

As captain of the Midnight Star, his job isn’t just to score enough crab or tuna for a day’s pay; he’s responsible for the safety of his crew. He scans weather reports every morning, mixing in his own experience to decide on whether to fish, or stay home.

“My job is to assess the risk and reward. This year has been exceptionally calm, we haven’t been scared yet, and almost every year we get scared. 

“Three years ago I miscalculated. We ended up getting out there, then it got band and a swell came up to more than 30 feet. We had to have a Coast Guard escort to get back.”

When the Midnight Star is fishing for tuna, the boat can be as far as 120 miles off the coast. Fishing for crab, Thevik and crew are within 10 miles of Ocean Shores, and this time of year just a few hundred yards off the beaches.

 “A typical crab day? There’s really nothing typical about what we do. That’s one of the things that I like. I’m not one of those guys who thrives on predictability.”