Voices of Prois...Ocean Therapy: Chasing Ling Cod on the Oregon Coast

By Prois Staffer, Roanna Snebold
Packing up for an eight‑hour drive never feels like a chore when the destination is saltwater. Early spring, right before turkey season opens, we always get the itch — too much energy, too much anticipation. There's only one cure for that kind of restlessness.

 

It's deep‑sea fishing time.

This trip marks the unofficial start of our year: the freezer begins filling with fresh fish, ready for summer tacos on the patio. Lingcod, rockfish — the kind of delicious, clean meat that tastes like sunshine and saltwater.

We hit the dock at 6:30 a.m., heading out of the world's smallest harbor in Depoe Bay, Oregon. It's chilly, that sharp coastal cold that wakes you up faster than coffee. We cross the bar safely, still rubbing sleep from our eyes, when the sun pops over the mountains.

The Oregon coast is magic — where the mountains meet the ocean. Huge pine trees, crisp air, that salty‑earthy smell you only get there. The water is calm, the day is gorgeous, and the captain finally calls out, "Let's go!" 

We settle in. Engines off. Lines drop about 200 feet. 

A couple minutes in — boom. Fish on. 

Then another. And another. Back‑to‑back action, fish flying onto the boat like the ocean was in a giving mood. I limit out on lingcod fast, but I still need one more rockfish.

Line goes down. Rod bends hard. 

Snagged?

Nope.

This one is just big.

And of course, I'm only four weeks post‑shoulder surgery. But stubborn is my middle name — I refuse help. This fish is working me, and I'm working right back. 

When it finally surfaces, my jaw drops. 

My first blue ling.

Thirty‑nine inches of pure muscle and the most unreal bright‑blue tone.

And... it has to go back.

Sad, yes — but honestly? What an incredible experience. Seeing that blue ling up close was worth every second of the fight. I'll get one next year.

We still left with a canary, a China rockfish, and a pile of lingcod. We limited out two days in a row, the kind of success that makes your arms sore and your heart full.

Then it was time to head home. Somehow, that eight‑hour drive never feels long. The scenery is too beautiful, the cooler too full, and the memories too fresh.

Ocean therapy always does its job.