OK, so maybe it doesn’t look so much hawk-ish but that’s not surprising since it’s been a fishing charter for well over 40 years. Sure, it looks a little beat up, but Captain Darryl and first mate John are first class guides.
They were our hosts, taking Steve & his girlfriend Mimi, E.J. and his bottle of vodka plus myself with sunscreen and a sandwich. We all arrived at the dock within about 10 minutes of one another for s noon start.
EJ had done some charters out of his Boston home, Steve and Mimi were first timers and it was only my second time on a deep sea charter, the previous time an unsuccessful New Zealand outing. We all had high hopes.
After the required safety briefing, John said, “We start by looking for flocks of birds. They’re after the same bait fish that tuna and marlin are after.”
We then each drew a playing card. I drew Ace of spades. Things were looking good. John explained, “Morgan, you are number 1. We have five rods in the boat, so that first fish caught is yours to bring in.” The others were assigned 2 to 4. “The fifth rod is for whoever hasn’t caught one yet. Make sense?” I nodded dumbly.
And so we were off.
Darryl warned us that it was going to be a bit rough, and if we had to puke do so over the side.
Yes, it was a bit rough, but nothing I hadn’t been through before.
So the lines were baited and set.
And we waited
Darryl said to look for flocking birds, and we all spotted the same flock. Sea Witch rumbled to the flock. “We’re bound to get a strike here,” said John.
So we waited.
Soon, John flashed by me. “Number one!”
That’s me. And in the time it took to think that thought, it was gone. Just like that. Then “Rod four!” Two strikes in twenty seconds. Then it, too, was gone.
That was the closest we got all day long.
John and Darryl were apologetic. EJ was pickled. Steve and Mimi were horny. I wanted to get some decent food in me.
Such ended my deep sea excursion number two. Skunked again.
I’ll have better luck next time. Right?