John owns one of the nicest sea faring vessels a man can have. It's a Viking that's as much a yacht as it is a fishing boat, but mainly used for the latter. He's got a great crew of down-to-earth seamen who are both knowledgeable and amicable, and on top of that you never know who may show up for one of these trips (once, John even invited the guys who fixed his hot water heater to join him on a trip when he found out they were anglers). This year there haven't been to many trips, so there was a good amount of guys on the boat, many of whom were friends of the captain, Tommy.
Tommy was the "First Mate" (for all intensive purposes), on the first fishing trip that Jimmy and I took with John, over 7 years ago. Back then, an ex-Merchant Marine and friend of John's named Jim Johnson, was the captain. Mr. Johnson, as Jimmy and I called him, is one of the best guys I've ever got to talking to. He has the demeanor you'd expect from a captain; stoic, hard eyed, and astute, but he was never too rough around the edges, and appreciated a good joke or story. There was a lot that Jimmy and I could learn from him. Both he and Kim's father share many of the same qualities and interests, and they seemed to be very good friends. Jimmy and I had a lot of good times on the trips we'd take with them and the other angling aficionados. They always made us feel wanted and welcome. That was of course unless you lost one on the line.
As the years went by, Mr. Johnson slowly resigned from his navigational duties, and other men took up the torch. "Captain Al," a staple of the fishing and leisure trips, was no stranger to the compass or the wheel. He certainly put his hours in on the bridge. Billy, a taxidermist by trade, manhandled tuna that far outweighed him, gaffing, gutting, flushing, and ultimately filleting the sea beasts as best as I've ever seen. He seems to be a hands-on guy in all aspects of life, and he's extraordinarily well versed in the world of wildlife. Mr. Cunningham was an oft seen face on those early voyages as well. He too was quite skilled in the art of the filet. I always remember when we'd finally get back to the docks, he was the first to the table with a sharpened knife in his hand. And though I haven't seen much in this world, I'll tell you with a guttural certainty that these men all knew what they were doing, even when they didn't.
The sea is an unpredictable beast. As best prepared as you are, the laws of nature dictate that we don't belong out there, standing on floating fiberglass with 7000 feet of god knows what below us. Some men seem to be instinctually built for this, others not so much. Though I've never gotten seasick (and I've been in some rough waters surprisingly enough), I don't have that innate draw to the hunt and thrill of the catch that all these men share, my buddy Jimmy included. I love the ocean. I grew up swimming in it before I could walk, and I learned the power that it beheld even crashing on the shore. But out there, way out there, where these men dare to track their trophies, I'm as lost as an eskimo in Albuquerque.
In past trips out toward the canyons of the Atlantic, I've seen all sorts of finned creatures hit the deck of John's appropriately named boat, "On The Edge". Sharks, bass, barracuda, tuna, and an ocean worth's more, have all landed on that same familiar patch of the cockpit. I've fought and landed decent sized tuna, and I've lost one on the rod as well. That's never a good feeling. I've also sat back and admired the beauty that can only be seen out there. The pods of whales, the porpoises and dolphins, all mere arms lengths from your reach. The serenity and wisdom that one feels a part of on those waters is ancient. The sea holds a secret that you can't be told. You get a little closer to understanding it every trip you take, and by that logic, I have a long way to go. Some of these men are getting close though. And whether or not you fancy yourself a deep or introspective person, you can't help but admire and reflect on the magnificence of life, and of creation. Religious or not, it doesn't matter. The ocean is itself a church, an ubiquitous cathedral, and when you enter it you should be as humbled as a servant before his god.
Tommy always takes time to admire the beauty of it all. Be it for a moment in the morning when the giant red ball of fire seems to rise straight up from water itself, or in the evening, as it returns to the immeasurable depths. You've never seen a sunrise or a sunset until you've seen it from the ocean, surrounded by water for hundreds of miles in every direction. The greatest artists never had a palette as pure and vast as the reds, blues, pinks, purples and everything in between offered up by an ocean sky at sunset. Tommy commented on this to Jimmy and I on our first trip, and I immediately respected him for it. Masculinity is respected in hobbies such as these and emotionality, though not outwardly rejected, is not always acknowledged or welcomed. Tommy has always displayed an affinity towards both. Since becoming a full time caretaker of the vessel, he's certainly invited more stress onto himself, as a day without catch will always be attributed to a shortcoming on his part, even if it's only in his own eyes. Fortunately for everyone, this last trip was as far to the other extreme as one could get.
Jimmy, Jay, and I arrived at the Lawrence docks sometime around 11pm. Weighed down by food and beverages in bulk, the rest of the party was already fully in gear on the boat, save for Kimi and her father. Live bait was in the on-board tank, chum in the buckets, and array of brightly colored lures, jigs, and all other manner of trickery, strewn across the cockpit. No sooner had I unloaded my share of supplies, than Kimi and her father arrived, and the engines were started. Aside from those on the bridge who navigated us out to the waters in which we would spend the next 30 or so hours, we took this time to catch up on the sleep we would surely need for the excitement to come. Unfortunately, I could not seem to breach that barrier of consciousness, and so instead I read Rolling Stone articles, and ate grilled chicken breasts that Jimmy and I had cooked before we left. Though it didn't feel like it was very long, sometime in the early hours of the morning we reached our destination. The engines slowed, and right on cue the men bustled from their beds. Like lemmings we shuffled outside one by one, and took in the vast landscape. It all came back to me. I was out here again. Lines were dropped into the water, cigarettes lit, and anticipation of the first hit, began to grow.
Though we heard numerous shouts of excitement about catch numbers and weights over the radio, our first few hours were as quiet as could be. Not even a bite, aside from an unlucky Barracuda that somehow got himself caught. We put him in the bait tank, where he subtly taunted us and our misfortune. It seemed every other vessel was catching more than their share, but we couldn't get a thing. Even as the sun came up and we went trolling, no such luck would be cast on us. Still, the other boats caught, and caught, and caught. Accusations of loud engines, and disruptions our boat could cast on the water, were slung. Everyone wanted to blame something, but nobody really knew for sure. Eventually John had enough. He decided he would take the 15 foot Zodiac (coyly named "Over The Edge") out himself to change up the game. Jimmy, a greenhorn by all accounts in this situation, decided to accompany him. Captain Tommy was not enthusiastic about their chances or their safety, but did what he had to do to get the boat in the water and all geared up.
Now, it must be noted, this is not the first time John has attempted something like this. A few years back he took the Zodiac out (which is essentially and inflatable boat with a wheel and a powerful engine), and wound up getting in an hours long fight with a swordfish. It was quite the battle as it was recanted to me by multiple sources, with the upper hand swaying back and forth. Eventually, the swordfish used its aptly named "sword" to puncture and deflate one side of the zodiac, before ultimately succumbing to the willpower of a determined fisherman. Pictures were taken, and a great story was born. From that point on, I think John felt justified in using the Zodiac as a fully capable fishing vessel.
Shortly after John and Jimmy hit the open seas in a 15 foot inflatable, the fish hit us. Men that could've passed for dead, sprung to life shouting "fish on", and "get those fucking lines out of the water!" Though my recollection of the timing is hazy, it seems that Jimmy and John got their first "fish on" in the Zodiac, around the same time. One of Tommy's friends named Dave, was the first to grab the "U" shaped rod that seemed ready to leap from it's holder and into the drink. A belt was strapped around his waste, and he got to work. After a worthy battle, a 180lb Big Eye was slammed on board. That was Billy's cue, and he got right to work. Hacking and carving with an expert eye and hand, the fish looked like something you'd find on ice at a market in no time. Then the Zodiac pulled up and unloaded her catch, a smaller Yellow Fin, but a hell of a fish to boot. Jimmy and John were beaming. Billy again got to work on the carcass. Moments later another Big Eye was on, then another. Louis grabbed the rod with the biggest fish on it, unbeknownst to him, which was purposed to have weighed over 200lbs. Then the Zodiac came back, and unloaded another Yellow Fin. Spirits were high, and everyone was all riled up. The Barracuda was no longer mocking us from the tank, but was now looked upon fondly as our "Mascot." It was decided in jest, that "On The Edge" would catch the Big Eyes, and "Over The Edge" would handle the Yellow Fins. Everyone laughed, and the fish kept biting.
Eventually, a gorgeous sunset painted the perfect backdrop for a makeshift dinner. I sat near the edge (no pun intended) of the boat, staring out at pod after pod of pilot whales who were all surfaced. It seemed that like the fish, they sensed a storm was coming and were instinctually feeding in preparation for it. That's why the fishing was to be so good, and hence why this trip was hastily put together. Everything seemed to be as it should be. Things were calm for the moment, though at any point could be stirred up as lines were always trolling in the water. After eating, I retreated to the cabin where Kim was already resting. I decided to join her, and we teetered on the edge of sleep for an hour or so.
Eventually we were fully awakened by the return of John and Jimmy. Sunburned, soaked, a little cold and a little more tired, the two looked liked veterans of a naval strife. They had spent the day zipping around the great Atlantic in a boat smaller than many cars. They deserved a break, heck I was surprised the two of them didn't fall down flat where they stood. But somehow they cleaned up a bit, changed their rags, put some grub in their tanks, and were ready for more. John came over to me and asked if I was ready. Not knowing he was referring to anything specific I said, "Sure am." To which he responded, "Good. Cause we're going back out in the little boat." Jimmy overheard this, and decided that he wasn't passing up that opportunity. He loudly stated he was joining, which prompted John to turn back to me and say (as though I didn't hear Jimmy) "Oh, and Jimmy's coming too." I looked to Kim, and I'm sure there was some hesitation in my eyes, but with a smile and a nod, she gestured, go for it. Again, Tommy was not all-to-pleased with the decision, but he did everything he possibly could to make sure we were comfortable, well supplied, and safe.
So there we were. Three guys, two poles, one bucket of chum. Midnight in five foot swells on the open Atlantic, in an inflatable boat. I have to say, the life jacket didn't make me feel as safe as I thought it would. At first, John drove the Zodiac about 100 feet away from the main boat as we prepared ourselves to drop lines into the water. You have to understand, everything is harder on an inflatable. Every move someone makes, effects everyone else, and though this zodiac has an engine and isn't quite a dingy, it's still susceptible to movements. Especially to the movements of a 6'1, 200 lb. man-o-beast otherwise known as Jimmy. To call him less than graceful, is more than a compliment and he'd tell you so himself. So, needless to say, things are a little more compounded by all this, and of course lets not forget, I have no fucking idea what I'm doing! Jimmy just went through a five hour crash course with John, and here I am, violently thrown into the same position.
Like a surgeons assistant, John and Jimmy are calling on me for supplies, and I'm rummaging through bags and pails to find them. I was also in charge of chumming the waters (throwing fish carcases and guts into the waters around our poles to attract all manner of sea beasts and hopefully tuna), so it went a little something like this:
Jimmy: I need a sinker.
Dylan: Check. Here you go.
Jimmy: And a rubberband.
Dylan: Got it.
John: You got a hook in there?
Dylan: Check, hook on your right.
Jimmy: Hey man you gotta move over there, you're in my way.
Dylan: Alright alright, take it easy.
John: You chumming Dylan? Gotta keep chumming.
Dylan: Ok, I'm on it. Chumming now. You want me to do both sides of the boat?
John / Jimmy: No / Yes.
John: Chum in the direction of the lines, we dont want it going out to sea cause that'll take the fish away from us.
Dylan: Got it, ok.
John: That's the wrong way.
Dylan: Oh, sorry.
Jimmy: Come on man you just threw Chum all over me!
Dylan: Sorry Jimbo, it's hard to see.
Jimmy: You gotta be more careful man, I'm gonna stink like this shit now!
Dylan: Jimbo, you already stink like that shit ... WHACK (Jimmy spins around and accidentally hits me in the head with the net pole):
Jimmy: Ah jeez, sorry man.
Dylan: Yea I bet you are.
John: FISH ON!
Then the real fun begins. After getting dragged halfway across the Atlantic by a 150+ pound Tuna, now we've tired the thing out, and Jimmy's got to hook it's mid-section with a gaff, and drag it onto the boat without losing the fish, falling over, knocking someone else over, or missing the fish, gaffing the inflatable, and thus potentially drowning us all.
Swing-and-a-miss. Jimmy put all his weight into that first strike, came up empty, and the force of motion carried him backwards a single step. Another step would've landed him in the water.
John: Easy Jimmy.
Jimmy: Yea I got this. UMPH!
He nailed the sucker straight in the gut. It struggled a moment, then gave in. John grabbed the back of the pole when he saw Jimmy was having a little trouble getting the thing in the boat, and together they landed it. Now there was even less space, and a spastic fish sending chum and equipment flying. I caught a piece of bait in the eye. Fuckin' fish, I thought to myself. John fired up the engine, and asked, "Where's the big boat?" Hmm. Where was the big boat? The Tuna and the current had dragged us a solid mile away from our boat, and there in the midnight water and sky, I spotted the pilot lights. John revved the engine, but we couldn't proceed very fast. The water had gotten choppy, the wind had picked up, and the swells were tossing the little boat around a bit now. Nonetheless we arrived, where Tommy, Jimmy, Dave, and Louis were waiting. Like proud dogs delivering a duck to its master, we unloaded our catch and headed back out for more. Again, the back and forth started:
Jimmy: Alright what's left for bait, that fucker didn't swallow the squid so we still got that.
Dylan: Why don't you just use this other pole, it's already rigged up and ready to go?
John: Yea, Jimmy carefully hand me that rod, and drop the other line in.
Dylan: Easy man, you can't just shove it at me, I gotta find a place to put this gaff first.
Jimmy: Yea alright well hurry up I gotta get this line in the water.
Dylan: Hey, cool your guns there Shooter, I can't see a thing.
John: Here's the light.
Dylan: Ah, ok.
(A little shuffling around and clumsy maneuvering)
John: I snapped the rubberband you got another one?
Dylan: I'm not sure let me check.
Jimmy: There's one in there I saw it.
Dylan: Where's that?
Jimmy: I don't know you had the bag last.
Dylan: Well you moved everything around so I don't know where it is now?
John: (chuckles)
Dylan: Bingo. Rubberband.
John: Shit, snapped it.
Dylan: Another rubberband coming up.
John: Okay. Got a sinker?
Dylan: Sure do, it's right...
Jimmy: HOLY SHIT FISH ON!
We snapped back to action. Chum goes flying, Jimmys on the pole, but looking a little shaky.
Jimmy: I can't gaff this thing if I'm reeling it in!
John: Ok I'll take the pole from you, but we need to bring it around this side.
Dylan: The pole doesn't have a security line either.
John: Ok that's the first thing. Dylan get a rope, tie it around this part of the frame, and then give me the clipped end to hook onto the rod.
That whole procedure could've taken some people about 15 seconds. It took us about 5 minutes. All the while this fish is dragging us to hell and higher water. Finally John starts reeling it up. The fish is tired, the fight is shorter. Jimmy's improved significantly with the gaff, and gets it on the first try. He also hauls it onto the boat in one smooth maneuver. Things are looking up.
By this point, the seas have grown. The wind is vigilant, and standing up is a risky proposition. John decides that we're going to tie a rope around the tail of this 100+ lb. beast, and drop her over the side of the boat to sit, while we try for one more. What the hell I thought, three's better than two.
Rigging up the pole is taking some time. Similar banter ensues though the back and forth between Jimmy and I is friendlier. It's amazing how a fish can change a man's mood. Eventually the lines are baited and dropped in the water, and we wait. The seas are straight kicking now. We're riding up waves, and back down them. Some even appear to be cresting slightly. I suggest that maybe it's time to go in, expecting to be shot down. But John concurs, and Jimmy is all to eager to agree. John passes me the fluorescent light. It's a bright green tube light that's connected to the battery, and you put it in the water to light up everything up around you. I stand up to try and maneuver closer to the edge of the boat, and something flashes in the wave that's approaching us.
Dylan: What was that? Did you see that?
Jimmy: Don't fuck around man. We're in seven-thousand feet of water a mile away from the boat and you're gonna pull that shit?
Dylan: I'm not fucking around, seriously, did you see that?
Jimmy: NO I DIDN'T "SEE THAT", put the goddamn light in the water!
I place the fluorescent light in the water, and there, not two feet from my hand, is a Great Hammerhead Shark. This was no fish. The thing was practically the size of the boat we were sitting in, and it was going for the Tuna we had left bleeding in the water. That was clearly a mistake. Jimmy and I jumped back, one of us shrieked. I think it was Jimmy. We spun around and there, another Hammerhead was circling the other side of the boat, and another disappeared directly beneath us. My heart skipped a little, we were being circled by sharks. This was not a situation I had been prepped properly for.
Dylan: We need to get out of here. Now.
Jimmy: FUCKING CHRIST WE GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE! John turn the boat on, leave the fish, lets go man!
John: Ok. Jimmy haul the fish on the boat.
(Jimmy and I look at each other)
Jimmy: Uh, we gotta leave the fish. Forget the fish. WE GOTTA GO, WE GOTTA GO NOW!
John: Ok, but get the fish on the boat first.
Jimmy doesn't move. John moves past him and starts pulling up the fish himself. I decide I've seen all I need to and bring the light back on the boat. I shout to Jimmy:
Dylan: JIMMY! Start reeling up the rods man! We can't go until they're up!
Jimmy: Fuck the rods! We Gotta Go! John, please can we just go!
Dylan: We can't LEAVE the rods!
Jimmy: Sure we can. Start the boat, hit the gas, we're gone. That easy.
John: Alright, lets go. Jimmy start reeling.
John started the boat, he was as cool as a cucumber. I could see one of the hammerheads still, but it disappeared in a wave. The waters were kicking now, and the wind was strong. I was standing in front of the wheel, but reaching back to steer the craft while John untangled and reeled up the lines. Jimmy intently watched the waters around us. We weren't moving very quick at all, and that gave way to some agitation. Jimmy asked, "Can't this thing go any faster?!" Unfortunately it couldn't, as the swells were so large that the boat was more riding waves than traveling under our authority.
After what seemed like longer than either Jimmy or I wanted, we reached "ON THE EDGE." Jimmy and I were both figuratively and literally Over The Edge at this point, and both of us wanted off the little boat. The water however, would not allow it. The waves were carrying us all over the place, and it was very difficult to get close to the big boat. Tommy and his boys were fervently trying to get a hold of us, but we were being tossed around like a hacky-sack in a hippy house. First we got the fish off the little boat. Then the net and the gaff, and finally some of the incidentals. Jimmy and I jumped from boat to boat, and the crew pulled us over the rail, and onto the deck. They laughed and teased us, poked a little fun, but it was all in good jest. I tried to play it off cool quite unsuccessfully, and Jimmy told them outright that they were nuts. "You didn't see what we saw, cause if you did, you'd be pretty freaked out too," he said.
John remained on the small boat. He piloted it around to the side of the big boat, and stayed on it the whole time, even as the wench lifted the boat out of the sea and into the wind, ultimately settling it on the bow. I was on the bridge with Captain Al, recanting my story to him. At the end of my tale, he shot me a veterans smile that said, Hey kid, I know what you mean, but still I seen worse. Al's a solid guy underneath his sometimes tough exterior, and he loves a good story. He sure can tell one. For a few minutes the two of us just sat up there, watching the escapade of securing the small boat in the high seas, down below. When John was finally back on board, I went down to meet him in his quarters. He seemed quite unaffected by the whole thing. In fact, his first comment once he was back on board was about the great added catch. Tough guy, I thought, I'll give him that. Then again, he was in the same midnight waters with half his boat deflated, battling against a Swordfish that was likely more dangerous than all those sharks put together. He too had seen worse, I guess.
In the main cabin, Jimmy and I recounted the story for Kim, Jay, and the remaining crew, not needing to embellish a thing. Some of the guys kept fishing through the wee hours of the morning, but we were exhausted. We settled down in the moments calm. Jimmy and I exchanged a cool look, as we so often have. It was all that was needed at that point. We've been at each other's sides since we were in grammar school, and he's the closest thing to a brother I've got. We've been through a lot together, more than ever need be told, and this was another story for the books. For us, it was as crazy a trip "On The Edge," as we would ever take. About as crazy as the storm we got stuck in once. But as they say, that's a story for another time.
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