Fishing!
Fishing
It all started when I was about nine years old. My uncle Alfred invited my brother and me out for a day of fishing in a rented rowboat off some private beach along Coney Island. We woke up about 5:00 a.m. that morning and was out the door by 6:00 a.m. After a short subway ride, we walked to the boat rental place and off we went. My uncle let me row to a place adjacent to some jetties that separated the private and public beaches. We anchored the boat, put up the oars and started fishing after my uncle showed us how to rig up our lines. We were using sandworm as bait and I quickly found out that each worm had a set of pinchers that could draw blood. My uncle would say “treat the worms with respect while you are putting a hook through them.” We were already to start fishing so we dropped our lines down into about thirty feet of water. I waited less then thirty seconds before I felt a strong tug, tug, tug at the end of my line. It only happened once so I waited for awhile before I reeled up and discovered that my hook was cleaned. I quickly rebated the hook then dropped it to the bottom again. My uncle was explaining that as soon as you feel a bite; jerk your pole up in order to hook the fish. This time I was ready and before long I felt the familiar tug, tug, tug as the fish attacked the morsel of worm on the hook. I jerked my fishing pole up and hooked whatever it was trying to steal my bait. My pole almost bent in two as I was franticly turning the reel. At this moment and I will never forget it, I felt a rush come over me, this was the most exciting experience that ever happened in my life, almost euphoric, I think the adrenalin was rushing to my brain. I may have caught the fish, a black sea bass, took it home and flayed it but in reality I was the one who got hooked that day, on fishing, for the rest of my life. After that episode with Uncle and the rented boat, I found myself figuring out ways how to get near the water and fish. Every weekend my brother and I would be off to Coney Island early in the morning with our fishing poles and bait. We would cautiously climb our way out to the end of the jetties, depending on the tide, set up a spot and fish all day long. We would bring home burlap potato sacks full of fish, porgies, blowfish, sea bass, flounders and fluke because you never knew what you would catch until you saw it’s head surfacing. Even at this age, it meant a lot to me at the time because I was providing food for the family by doing something I loved and with nine children at home, it meant a lot to them too. My father was proud of my brother and me and told us so while cleaning the fish in the sink. I continued fishing whenever I could over the years until I finally started college. During that time I got married to my neighborhood sweetheart, worked three days a week as a cab driver and attended college in the evenings. Life was very hectic in my new role as a college student, husband and income provider. For that matter, life was always hectic in New York City. My wife’s father bought a property on Long Island New York that sat on a canal leading to the open bays of Long Island sound. He also inherited an eighteen-foot flat bottom boat that was included in the deal along with an Evenrude twenty-five-horse power outboard motor. This was a blessing in disguise, he did not like to fish, therefore, I had unlimited access to his boat anytime I wanted it. As it turned out, I wanted to be in that boat fishing during every opportunity that came my way. Fishing became therapy for me, each and every time I had the opportunity to take that boat out into the open bays to fish, swim, or just dock it on the beach and relax, it made me feel great. It was a welcomed release from other commitments, it gave me time to breath and gather my thoughts, it helped me to put my life back into perspective so I could continue on with the insanity of my life. And, the bonus was catching more fish then I knew what to do with. One day, while being tied off on a pylon supporting an overpass entrance leading out to the ocean, a friend and I were fishing for black sea bass. We had pulled up a five-pound fish and a number of smaller ones when this yacht, which was returning from the ocean, passed us. The owner of the yacht yelled down at us, “any luck?” My friend got up from his seat and flipped open the cover to where we kept our fish, pulled out the big one and lifted it for his inspection. He pretended to put the fish back and grab another fish but he kept lifting the same fish over and over again for this person to see. The yacht owner said “I traveled fifty miles out in open sea and did not catch half the number of fish you guys did”. We both smiled and waved him off. After I graduated from Brooklyn College, my entire family was slowly moving from Brooklyn New York to Ohio because that is where my mom moved after my father passed away, So, I too eventually decided to leave the city and moved to Ohio where I found employment as a grants writer for County Government. The obvious that never dawned on me was that when I left the city, I was leaving the ocean too. I was fortunate in a sense; my brother in law John who lived in Ohio was a fishing enthusiast too. He taught me so many tricks on how to fish the rivers, streams, ponds and lakes and it was a lot of fun for a while but it could not compete with ocean fishing. John eventually retired and moved to a little fishing village called Homosassa Springs, Florida. He bought himself a boat and I had an open invitation to visit and fish in the gulf whenever I could swing a trip. My trips to Florida were usually the highlight of my summers for a number of years. One time, I brought down some freshwater fishing tackle, went way out in the gulf some ten miles or so and fished for whatever would bite. I landed something that took me on an hour-long struggle before I could get him close enough to the boat to see it was. It was a cobia, a sports fish, prized for the tremendous fight they put up. When I reached over the side of the boat to get the fish aboard, the line snapped and I let out a sigh of relief. That same day, I caught a thirty-pound gore, a fish that looked like a scaled down replica of a swordfish. Its snout was eighteen inches long, pointy and could probably hurt if you were not careful. Everyone on the boat for the day agreed that they would clean all the fish we caught and give it to me so I could fill a cooler to take home to Ohio. Compared to other states, crab and shrimp were relatively cheep in Florida. Our relatives who lived there knew where to find the deals so we made sure we would fill up additional coolers before we left on the way home. We had relatives in Ohio waiting patiently for our return. I left Ohio for a job as a grants writer on the Big Island of Hawaii. The job shortly became a disaster but I wound up living in Hawaii for four years. If you do not master the art of net throwing or snorkeling then you give up your right to catch fish on the Big Island. Beyond the beaches where you may want to cast your line with a standard fishing pole lays nothing but razor sharp coral. When you cast your line out, it will either get snagged or cut before you ever reel the line in. There was one fishing experience that I had in Hawaii that I just have to mention. My brother and I were at a nightclub when we met this Japanese fellow through a mutual friend. He bragged about having a twenty-six foot cabin cruiser but also mentioned he needed some repair work on his deck. We told him we would repair his deck labor free if he took us out on his boat. After some consideration, he agreed. He mentioned that he had all the tackle we would need and all we would have to do is help him get his boat in and out of the water. So here we are about a week later, trolling off the coast of Kailua, Hawaii for tuna and marlin. The poles we used were extremely thick and the huge fishing reels were wrapped with a hundred and thirty pound test line. Our friend was quick to mention to keep our hands away from the reels while we held the poles because if we got a hit the line could easily take off a finger or two. We trolled for six hours that day back and forth along the coast in hopes of catching a very big game fish. The area was known for marlin weighing up to a thousand pounds. It seems it was just not in the stars to catch that prize game fish on that particular day, we did not get one hit the entire time before returning home. Even though we were somewhat disappointed about our luck, both my brother and I realized we had experienced the ultimate in fishing adventures and that the memories would last a lifetime. So, my advise to you is, if you enjoy fishing too, then get out there and make it happen. You will not believe the rush when your pulling up something unknown off the ocean floor. And, you will not be sorry when you and friends are sitting around eating and enjoying one of the healthiest meals there is. Someday, I will move closer to the ocean again, buy a boat and there I go. by Dennis (Viewed 852 times)
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