Fishing so good that our arms got sore reeling them up. Before school started, I asked him for the highlights of his summer. He blinked a few times and replied, “Sleeping after we came back from fishing.” Ah! We got up at 5am and left by 530am. Tammy and Jirachi drove us to the pier because she wanted to have the car while we were gone. We got where we needed to be, then we walked off into the sunrise. When Tammy picked us up at the end of the day, she told us Jirachi barked and whined when we left.

Sean and I walked down the pier, looking for Chris’ Fishing. Chris has a small store where he sells tickets for the boat, sweatshirts, t-shirts, hats, and the fishing gear you need. We met Chris himself and we bought our tickets from him. He advised us to go to the right and walk down the stairs to the boat. I saw several boats but only one was bustling with people.

We checked in and looked for a spot to put our stuff down. It was still really early, so maybe that was why the fishermen weren’t friendly. They were also defending their turf; everyone had a place on the railing where they would be fishing. I asked the deckhand where we should go and he gestured that we should find an opening. I went right and Sean followed me.

Older fishermen filled the narrow walkway. We walked slowly up to the bow and found an open area. I don’t like the bow because it is generally the highest point on the boat and it is a pain to lift your fish up that high. Some guys prefer it because it has a little bit more room.

In fact, there were 3 young Filipino guys rigging their gear -who informed us that we were in their spots. They didn’t threaten us but I was angry. Angry that the deckhand didn’t help. Angry they had taken our money on a clearly overloaded boat. Angry that we couldn’t even fish in the stupid bow, the place I would never pick. Looking back now, I see that I was afraid, afraid we wouldn’t be welcome, that we would have a bad time, that we would be so crowded that our fishing lines would get tangled and we would lose any fish we caught. I felt unsettled, unwelcome, unaccepted, and extremely uncomfortable. I’m trying and failing to show my son a good time.

We continued around to the left side of the boat, passing two older Filipinos. Just past them I glimpsed one open slot. I put my gear down and decided Sean and I would muscle in here. An older Chinese guy was just past us and a stocky Italian wearing rubber waders stood just beyond him. The Italian looked at me blandly.

The old Filipino guy behind us complained, “There’s no spot.” I apologized and made it clear that we had been around the whole boat and found there weren’t any open slots. “Gonna get tangled,” he muttered. It stung because I worried the same thing, especially with a rookie like Sean fishing. I’d try to be careful but we all make mistakes and a fish can easily wrap even a veteran around someone else’s line.

Eventually, the captain took us out and the wind rustling through my hair calmed me. We were off! Our first stop was for bait. The captain located a school of squid and we dropped our Sabiki rigs. I never caught live squid before so I didn’t know what to do.

Over the loudspeaker, the captain reported the school about 50 feet down and we should let our lines out, count to 20, and then stop. I hit the bottom and so did Sean. I pulled up a couple of sand dabs, flatfish which look like baby halibut. I wasn’t sure what to do with them but one of the younger Filipino guys shouted, “Throw them in the bucket!” So I did. The grumpy Filipino guy caught a sand dab, grinned, and tossed it in his burlap sack. I tossed mine in the bucket. The Italian and Chinese guy pulled up a few squid and tossed them in the bucket next to them.

Squid are fascinating and fun to catch. We got a biology lesson combined with the physics of fluid propulsion. When we brought them up, they squirted water and ink. Their ink dyed the clear seawater a bluish-gray. The squid themselves were translucent and their ink allowed you to see how they stored water in their hoods and then squeezed it out to propel themselves forward. I never thought much about how the squid moved but now I could literally see how they worked. Also, when they were out of the water, the ink and water shot out amongst the fishermen, so the boat got lively as we dodged the living squirt guns. We were catching our bait.

The deckhand came by to pick the squid out of the buckets and he frowned at my sand dabs. He tossed them over the side and grumbled we were too far down if we were catching those. I growled at his back, “The captain told us to count to 20 and I hit bottom!” Sean and I caught on and let our lines down to about 50 feet by manually pulling out the line and we started catching more. I got a few doubles and Sean got a triple.

We reeled up and let the squid dangle in the air until they squeezed their water out, then we brought them up, pulled them off our hooks, and tossed them in the bucket. The Chinese guy chuckled that we were catching enough bait for the whole boat. I relaxed a little.  Instead of being deadweights, now we were both useful and accepted and that made it a lot more fun.

When the captain decided we caught enough, we motored north until he found a good spot. Sean and I went into the cabin. My years of fishing taught me it is better to eat when we were moving because otherwise you try to eat when you could be fishing. I pulled one of the turkey and swiss sandwiches with lettuce and tomatoes out of the little red cooler and unwrapped the tinfoil. I offered one of the plain sandwiches to Sean. He shook his head. I wanted to save my ginger ale for later so I drank water with my sandwich. Sean closed his eyes and napped. We were out of cell phone range or I would have texted Tammy the picture of him.

About an hour later, we arrived and dropped our lines again. I happily pulled up a couple rock cod but when Sean reeled his line up, he had one bigger than either of mine. He grinned, proud to be catching bigger fish than me. We caught a few more and Sean’s were generally bigger than mine. It helped my heart unclench even more to see him enjoying himself. Then, for some reason, the captain decided to move. I got mad because I hate it when the captain moves the boat when I am catching fish. Many times, the next spot is even worse. Whoa, fear strikes again! This time, my fears were wrong.

Our next spot was even better. As we approached the new spot, a seething mass of fish churned the ocean in a big jagged twenty foot circle off the bow. The captain turned on the intercom, “I haven’t seen rock cod boil like that for 40 years.” Wow. I’ve seen smaller boils in both fresh and saltwater but the captain’s announcement made me realize we were in the middle of a special day. The captain moved because even though we were catching some, he was looking for a spot like this, where the sea burbled with hungry fish.

Sean and I caught so many our arms got tired from reeling them up. I could feel the burn but I was not going to give up until my arm fell off. I’ve been fishing for a long time and giddy days like this are few and far between. This was one of those days . We ended up tossing some small ones back and giving our little ones to other fishermen who did not have their limits. We caught over 20 fish.

 

The Italian started using big swimbaits, chasing big ling cod. You can only keep 2 so I half-jokingly told him he could catch my limit. He smiled back. “No problem! I’m not greedy!” Every time he didn’t pull up a ling, I’d yell, “Man, you gotta catch me a ling!” He’d shake his head and try again.

 

The Chinese guy had several big red rock cod (they called them bocaccio) but he asked us if we wanted to trade some of our greens for his reds. He explained he liked the taste of the greens better. His reds were huge, so I quickly agreed. I dug out our two biggest greens and even though they were both smaller than his reds, he agreed to trade.

The deckhand filleted everyone’s fish as we headed home. Sean went inside but my stomach felt funny so I stayed in the fresh air. I went alternately hot and cold and I knew I was not doing well. I sucked down a lemon Canada Dry and hoped it would settle my stomach. It didn’t. I desperately wanted to avoid the embarrassment of throwing up in front of the veteran fishermen but I also knew I would probably feel a lot better if I heaved. Sean came out and we took some pictures with the fish.

Something changed and I couldn’t hold my cookies any longer. I calmly walked to the downwind side of the boat and gave my ginger ale to sea. I was right; I did feel better after that.

Quick tip: vomit downwind. If you have to throw up over the side, go where the wind is not blowing in your face. If the wind is blowing in your face, the wind will blow your vomit back into your face. Or into your hair or clothes or onto the people next to you (not a good way to make friends). Find the downwind side as soon as you start to feel bad, then walk over there and find a good spot. Handholds are helpful if you want to lean over and not fall in. If that special time comes, you will already be where you need to be and you will already know where to hold on. If the ship is turning or the wind is shifting, try to time the wind right. I hope you never need this tip.

The deckhand filleted the Italian guy’s fish. Meanwhile, the Italian dug frantically in his backpack, searching in vain for a clean and dry plastic bag to put his fillets in. He did not want his backpack getting all wet and slimed up. I had a couple of extra drawstring bags. When I gave him one, he thanked me profusely.

Sean and I got our fish filleted and packed up the rest of our stuff. Hauling our gear and our fish, we hiked up the dock. We now had 20 pounds of fresh cod fillets in my bucket, doubled wrapped in my plastic bags. Sean volunteered to carry our prizes.

We didn’t have a car and Tammy was coming to pick us up in about 45 minutes, which meant we had some time to kill and we were exhausted. I ordered some fries from a restaurant and we sat down at a table on the dock. We took turns watching our stuff and washing our hands. The hot fries came out and we ate them with our cold sandwiches. Tourists walking by saw our poles and asked us if we had any luck. We happily pointed at our bucket of fillets and nodded smugly.

I just wish that Sean loved it so much that he would want to do it again.