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North Carolina
Day
of the Dolphin
Redfish
in the Flats
Florida
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Day of the Dolphin Thursday, August 14, 2003 I had been anticipating this day for months. We were going to be deep sea fishing for King Mackerel, Mahi Mahi (or Dolphin fish, or Dorado, depending on where you're from), and whatever else might be feeding (potentially spanish mackerel, yellowfin tuna, little tunny, bonito, jack crevalle, and even shark, barracuda, and sailfish). Working on only 4 hours of sleep, we made our way to Seapath Yacht Club in Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina, just outside of Wilmington, to meet up with Capt. Jimmy Vass, owner of Fortune Hunter charters. Jimmy has two boats. Fortune Hunter is a 31' Bertram that is used for offshore excursions while Fortune Hunter Too, a 22' inshore boat, is used in the sound and close to shore. We were going to be heading out about 25 miles to "the 23 mile rock" to begin fast trolling for Kings and Mahi. A storm off the coast of Florida had kicked-up the seas at least as far north as we were, so the ride out took close to an hour and forty-five minutes instead of the usual hour and ten. I made the sad mistake of sitting "backwards" and tried to deal with the abuse the boat was inflicting on us. With 11 miles to go, I stepped out onto the deck to get some fresh air, stand-up, and face forward to try and control the looming nausea I had started to feel. As it turns out, I should have lain down in the bow, or remained standing the entire time because when we finally slowed to put the lines in the water, the slowing rolling pitch pushed me over the edge and a 5 gallon bucket became my salvation for the next 5 hours. Shortly after my first bout with the bucket, I heard the captain shouting, "Fish, fish, fish!" By the time I looked out from the cabin, the mate had already pounced on the rod and was getting my father situated into the fighting chair. As I watched him begin to reel the fish in towards the boat, I would have sworn it had broken off as the rod didn't have much bend in it and he didn't seem to be expending any effort. "Too bad," I thought. To my surprise, I saw the mate grab the gaff, and haul a 3' long King into the boat. Now, that fish was probably only about 4-5 lbs., which is definitely small for a King Mackerel, but, I thought it would have put up some sort of a fight. The equipment was definitely overkill for that size fish. The next fish came from off of a deep runner, lined to a downrigger off the starboard side of the boat. Ginger scooted into position and proceeded to crank in an even smaller mackerel than the first one, again, effortlessly. I was beginning to doubt this trip was to be as bountiful as I'd hoped, but, that's why they call it fishing, right? I definitely prefer a more "active" form of fishing--one that requires casting instead of just sitting around. I sat back down, bucket in hand, and began to count the seconds. It hadn't been five minutes the reel mounted up near the captain began to scream. "Mahi!" he cried. The word hadn't even sunk into my concious when my dad yelled for me. It was either going to be my turn, or James'. He was fast asleep on the port-side engine cover, so, that left me alone to jump into the chair. The mate began shouting instructions on how to fight the fish, and I looked at him with a level of incredulity. "Fight?" The first two fish hadn't been a fight, but as I took hold of the rod, I felt it. A surge of power that I've never felt fishing before. The biggest fish I've caught have been lunkers such as large catfish, carp, and bass, but I had never been saltwater fishing before, so I had no idea what to expect. The reel was new to the boat and did not have a line "guide," so it was up to me to guide the line over the spool as I reeled in the fish. This guy was STRONG. I wasn't able to get even 2 cranks on him and he began taking out line. Still gripping the road for what appeared to be 5-10 minutes, I stared out with what must have been close to 400 yards of line disappearing into the depths. "It's going to take me a half-an-hour to bring this thing in," I thought. The pitch and roll of the boat was beginning to affect me once again, and I had half a mind to hand the rod off to someone else. I kept thinking that in the worse-case scenario, I would jump up and lean my head over the side. With these kind of seas, that was out of the question. I would have probably been swimming if that were the case. Sucking it up, I remained focussed on the task at hand. I was able to get a few cranks now and again on the dolphin and then was able to slowly start pumping him in. Within a few minutes, a saw a brilliant flash of green and yellow off to port, about 20 yards from the boat. "It's a bull," I heard to mate yell to the captain. Keeping the rod up, I worked the fish back behind the boat where the mate lunged to gaff him. I sat back and relaxed, trying to fight the nausea beginning to take hold of me again. My dad grabbed the camera out of my bag as the mate grabbed a hose to wash the blood off the fish just in time for a photo op. As you see from the picture, I had a huge smile running across my face, but within a couple minutes of that shot, that same face was inside of a bucket. The fish was changing color just as fast as my eyes could focus. This was unreal. Taking a closer look, I realized that fish could not have been more than 6 or 7 lbs. On the line, it felt more like 30-40! If that little guy could pull like that, I would have been doomed to hook one even 20 lbs. in my present condition. Adrenaline subsiding, I resumed my position in the cabin, eventually making it up into the bow to sleep off the sickness.
I heard a few more fish being caught by everyone else, but as it turns out, I was to have reeled-in the only Mahi that day. Believe it or not, I look back and feel that it was worth it. Next time, I won't forget the dramamine. As I slipped into a sleep, Casey, the mate, poked his head through the window in the bow and told me to come up through. I stuck my torso out enough to look at the water passing underneath the boat and couldn't believe what I was seeing. 2 Bottle-nosed Dolphins were cruising with the boat, seemingly like play or sport, gently coming up and down, in and out of the water effortlessly. Rough seas aside, this was a beautiful trip. Enough fish for a feast, and a once-in-a-lifetime encounter with one of the seas most beautiful and intelligent creatures. The seas were beginning to subside, and it took us half the time to get back as it did going out. No sooner were we in the sound, and I felt as if I had not even gotten sick. After our catch had been cleaned and put back on ice, it was off to the grocery to find "House Autry's Seafood Breading;" the highest recommendation our mate had to share for cooking the mahi. Thanks, Casey. It was fantastic! |
