Logbook: Mid-Week Hooky

Work was piling up, deadlines loomed. Every time I crossed something off the ol’ to-do list, three more things jumped on. Each time my phone buzzed I peeked at it with dread. Finally, I got a message that wasn’t work related; a text from Karen’s uncle read: I’m fishing Wednesday and Thursday, want to join? We’d talked about getting out fishing together for six years at this point and had yet to make it happen. I had every excuse in the book to pull from, but nearing the end of my rope I thought, F— it. I responded: I’m in!

The trip in question was not off to the most auspicious start. It took three and a half hours for me to get from Connecticut to the marina on Long Island–twice as long as it should have. As we headed out, Billy recounted the conditions of the previous day: “It was calmer than a pond and today will be even better.” It was not better. It was not like a pond. Stacked 6-footers sent a soaking salt spray all over his Tiara, including the cockpit where I had left my backpack. I nearly shed a tear when I remembered my breakfast bagel was in that now-sopping-wet bag.

We dropped a few lines beneath an overcast sky and rocked and rolled. No other boats around, no birds in the sky or baitfish below, we made idle small talk as our hopes sank. Billy threw out a Hail Mary call on the VHF to see if anyone else was having any luck. With New York fisherman, you never know what you’ll get back on the radio. I’ve been offshore in incredible conditions with hot fishing when a call comes over asking for a sea condition report and guys respond: “Really nasty out here, cap, you better stay home.”

On this day, a fisherman who’d already had his fill and was heading home, passed along a hot tip on where he was landing bass. Billy and I both wondered if he was telling the truth but figured the only thing we were catching where we were was a cold.

We ran east to the depth of water our pelagic philanthropist suggested. It was still and quiet … until it wasn’t. The next two hours were filled with the best striper fishing I’ve experienced in all my years on that stretch of water. The first fish I caught threaded the needle and landed within the 28- to 31-inch slot limit. Against all odds, my first fish was a keeper. Billy’s first fish … also landed in the slot. I felt like buying a lottery ticket. Two fish, both keepers. We’d come this far; we might as well try for a couple bigger bass. Right after speaking that into the world, we each landed 42-inch cows that had our hearts racing. At one point I picked up a rod that was so heavy I thought I snagged the bottom with a pair of GoJo shad lures. I really need to get back to the gym, I thought as I pumped away and struggled to gain line as if I was fighting a giant tuna. I felt somewhat vindicated when not one, but two nice-sized bass appeared on the same rig. There was some excited shouting as we fought to wrangle the bass brothers. Adding to the calamity was the [manufacturer’s name withheld for now] rod actually breaking into three pieces as we fought to bring the fish on board. Minutes later I could only laugh as the net I was using snapped in two while trying to scoop up another cow. “Where are you buying this gear, the Walmart clearance rack!?” I asked.

After a while the blitz finally started to slow, but that’s when a pod of whales arrived. Just a hundred yards away I watched as a humpback head pierced the water and its mouth filled with bunker. This was all less than a mile off the beach I frequented as a kid. The ocean was alive and so was I. I felt physically fatigued and mentally refreshed, it was the kind of rejuvenation that only comes from a day spent in the physical world.

After filleting our keepers, I joked that if you consider the cost of the fuel we burned, a lure we lost, the rod that snapped and the net that broke, each filet cost us hundreds of dollars. What non-fishermen or boaters will never understand is that days like that can’t be measured in dollars and cents. No, days like that are priceless.

See you on the water,Dan
[email protected]
@danhardingboating

This article originally appeared in the March 2024 issue of Power & Motoryacht magazine.

Source: https://www.powerandmotoryacht.com/column/logbook-mid-week-hooky