Wave forecast: three to five…..way better than nine to five….

-Boston Whaler advertisement

OK. I’ll admit it. Yesterday I played hooky from my phony baloney bureaucrats job and went offshore fishing with my good friend GM, local bidnessman and fisherman extraordinaire. His offshore boat Sol Mate is a paradigm of class and civility, and the last time I went out with him, I tangled with a big old blue marlin. It was the pinnacle of my fishing career, and negated the need to ever catch another fish. However, I still enjoy catching fish and so when I can find the excuse (such as being invited aboard Sol Mate) my mind instantly goes into one track mode, and I close down the superfluous store front shutters and just go.

Arriving at the dock yesterday before sunup (yes, that’s how fishermen, as opposed to sailors operate), I stepped aboard, the last man on, and we got underway, heading out about 50 miles to the continental shelf in the Gulf of Mexico. Quite a contrast from sailing, the two big old Cat diesels pushing the big boat up onto plane as we roared across the water.

Sometimes I love speed and power too.

Sunrise poked up over the eastern horizon, pink and red on black clouds already towering heavenward.

And you know what that means.

GM retires below for a short catnap, and GM’s captain / deckboss / friend Roch and I  talk about sailing. He has never been under the power of the wind, but is a consummate man of the sea, a former commercial fisherman (like a lot of us), and so his interest lies in the things of the sea. I promise to take him out on Olivia.

Roch's son-in-law, Marcos is busying himself on the deck below getting things ready to fish. Roch and Marcos make the best boat team I have ever seen.

We are weaving our way through thunderstorms already forming, behind us a rainbow, and then a double rainbow shimmer over the water as the day opens its eyes. Around thirty five fathoms the big game spread is laid out in the aquamarine blue water. It isn’t long before fish start to come to the smorgasbord of bait and lure steaming and smoking over the calm Gulf. First a Mahi, than a blackfin tuna, followed by a couple of Wahoo, and everybody lands a fish.

In between deck chores, Roch and Marcos ever indefatigable, scramble topside and all around with drinks, fruits and snacks, all the while attending to the spread, the spider web gossamer mass of lines, baits and teasers streaming out behind Sol Mate like the tentacles of a Portugese Man o’ War. I am reminded of my own years as a fisherman, and with them feel a great camaraderie. I sit down below for awhile on the back deck watching them ceaselessly and tirelessly reeling in lines, letting out lines, clipping and unclipping the outriggers, cleaning hooks and messing about with baits. Their work is mostly wordless, choreographed with knowledge that can only be learned by working together for long hours in varying conditions, weather and seas.

Lunch comes, a giant sandwich of ham, cheese, avocado, lettuce, tomato and dressing. It is somehow as good as, if not better than any other sandwich I have ever tasted. I drift off into the land of delicious sleep, a bit of a cat nap produced by a full belly, lulled into painless submission by the throb of the big diesels and the gentle roll of the sea. 

Later, as the afternoon wanes, we haul in the spread, Roch and Marcos take each of the rigs apart, meticulously wash and clean them, stow lures, put away baits and tidy up the back deck in anticipation of our next stop, a known red snapper haunt. Now they busy themselves with rigging up different gear, getting bait set out, rod-butt belts and all of the things that bottom fishing requires as the rest of us talk among ourselves or loll around on the generous cushions of Sol Mate's palatial topsides. When I look down on the deck everything is ready to go, perfectly laid out and waiting for us.....

We fish for several hours, catching our limits of fat, tasty red snapper from the depths.

 Roch and Marcos continuously busy themselves unhooking fish, re-baiting rods and cleaning the deck and at last when we finish, catch our limits, they busy themselves again, cleaning and stowing gear, washing the decks and worrying over the fish in the hold. Tired and a bit sleepy, I marvel at their energy. I remember my time on the deck, and how I disguised my own fatigue as a matter of honor and pride. These guys though, seem to know no tiredness, no sense of fatigue as they work with the efficiency of the diesels below the deck to accomplish their respective goals.

It is the Roch's and the Marcos’ of the marinas and coastal towns who are the salt in the sea, they flavor the experience. From Dutch Harbor down to Cape Horn and all points in between, whether we sail, motor about, fish, don’t fish, matters not one bit, we are all bound together by one common thread, the sea. There is that commonality and rhumb line of continuity in all of us who go down there, and the best turn out like the Roch's and the Marcos’, bound by pride in their work and their connection to all things of the sea

At the dock, they filet and bag the fish, and the piles are divided. I am given more than my share, and am grateful and humble with the generosity of my friends. GM gives the girls Sol Mate fishing team shirts, and there are catch photos for everyone.

I slip Roch what green stuff I have brought and ask him to share it with his son in law. It is far too little to actually begin to tell them how important what they did was to the success of the day, but inside I hope it helps, and somehow know that it does. It is another fisherman thing.

It is again, a perfect experience.

Mostly for me, it is an experience of reinforcement. The reinforcement of who I am, what I am. Earlier, Kip, the marina manager, and GM’s old friend observes what a beautiful day it has been, he remarks that it seems like it would’ve been a perfect day to sail. And he’s right, it would’ve been. But for me it is about the great circle. Very much like the great circle in navigation, this other one leads around to other kinds of distant shores, returning home, hopefully  richer and wiser

As much as I love to sail, it is the sea and the people who go there that make up this great circle. Because I sail I am part of this circle. I am happiest in this circle. I am already richer and wiser.