TYBEE ISLAN
ISLAND
By By Paul Paul Cales Cales & Becca
Continued from the May 2018 Beachcomber.
Catch up @ http://tybeebeachcomber.com/magazine
Chapter 11 – The Midnight Boat Ride
Day 1
30 TYBEE BEACHCOMBER | JUNE 2018
“One way isn’t necessarily better than the other,” Garrett muses.
“Hey, you feelin’ better now that we’ve got hooks in the water?”
“Much better.”
“Good. I just hope your mood doesn’t turn sour again when I start
getting strikes.”
“You catching more fish than me is simply not going to happen.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see home skillet.”
About fifteen minutes after they cast their first lines the fish start
hitting hot and heavy. The competition was tight. They were reeling
in fish after fish. And then an hour in, abruptly, the fish seemed to
just disappear. About a half hour after the fish stop biting Nick is
getting a bit impatient. “What the hell man? Neither of us has had a
bite in ages. The tide is right, the seas are calm, there’s no reason
for the fish to have just disappeared.”
“Maybe there’s a shark cruising the area. They like to scare off
the other fish.”
“Good point. You’re probably right. Think we should move?”
“Nah man. We should just chill here. If a big boy ran the fish off,
he’s not gonna stick around long if there’s nothing for him to eat.”
“Another good point. You know G-Man, you might not be as lousy
a fisherman as I thought you were.”
“Aww. Well you aren’t so bad yourself, Captain. What do ya say
we crack open a couple fresh brews and wait for the fish to start
biting again?”
“Sounds good.”
Another hour and a half and a few beers pass without even a
nibble on any of the lines.
“Well Captain,” Garrett says after he downs the last swig of his
beer. “I don’t think they’re coming back.”
“If a shark did run them off they would definitely have come back
by now. Let’s head back towards the R7 tower. I know a good spot.
If there aren’t fish there I’d be surprised.”
“Alright Cap. I’ll grab the anchor.”
“Look at you taking initiative. Okay, have a seat. We’re going to
haul ass.”
“Let’s see what this boat can do.”
The two make good time getting to the R7. They anchor and
begin fishing again. They fish for about an hour without a single
bite.
“I think the fish are afraid of the dynamic duo!” Garrett says.
Nick shakes his head and says, “I just don’t understand it.
If I’m not getting anything at the ledge I always head here and
immediately catch something.”
“Wanna try another spot?”
“If we’re not having any luck here or on the ledge I’m pretty sure
we’re not going to have any luck anywhere else.”
“What about doing some inshore fishing at the back river?”
“There’s no Mahi in the back river, G-Man.”
“I know, but we could catch some blues. We were tearing the
blues up during yesterday’s charter.”
“I thought we were out here to catch some BIG fish.”
“Big, small, in between. I don’t care as long as I’m catching
something Captain.”
“You’re right. It’s almost four in the morning. We’ll head back in
and try our luck closer to home.”
The fishing tournament to end all fishing tournaments is about
to begin. Captain Nick is ready to prove once and for all that he is
the better fisherman. Garrett, on the other hand, is simply looking
forward to cheering Nick up and catching some fish. It’s around 1
in the morning and Nick pulls back on the throttle and places the
engine in the neutral position as his depth finder finds the ledge.
“Alright, G-man,” Nick says. “Toss that anchor off the port side.”
“Aye aye Captain!” Garrett answers with enthusiasm. The anchor
splashes into the water and sinks, quickly grabbing the ocean floor.
Once the anchor is secured Nick shuts the engine off. “Alright,
Captain! You ready to get some hooks wet?”
“You’re damned right I am.”
“Groovy. Toss me one of those adult beverages we have in the
cooler that are wrapped in aluminum.”
“You’re switching to regular beer then?” a concerned Nick asks
Garrett. “Its bad luck to switch drinks while you’re fishing and you
started off with an Angry Orchard.”
“I don’t follow silly superstitions. I use skill, not witchcraft, to
catch fish, brother,” Garrett says as Nick tosses him a beer and
heads toward his down rigger. “What do you think you’re doing
rigging up your down rigger, Nick? This is a fishing tournament, not
a charter. No riggers. Poles only.”
“It’s my boat. I can fish however I want.”
“It won’t be fair if we don’t use the same tackle and you only
have the one down rigger. Besides, that’s not real fishing.”
“Okay, okay, okay. You’re right. But the commercial guys would
probably slap you for saying that. Poles only it is,” Nick says as he
begins to bait his hook. Once everything is in place he casts, looks
at Garrett, and says, “It won’t be long now.”
Garrett takes his time with his first cast. He meticulously checks
his reel, his line, steel leader, and hook to make sure everything is
perfect. He baits his hook and casts.
“You sure do take a long time to make your first cast, G-man.”
“It’s not about speed, it’s about the process. It’s meditation. It
centers my chi, brother man.”
“We are very different fishermen, Garrett.”
/magazine