ACC-RR3-FINALE

[tunacraze]

I don't know how long some of you have been on here, but I would cut Picasso some slack on the misspelling. He's the best writer on here. It's a short story and some of you can't get through it! Grow up! Read the post and ponder it.

 

[steve k]

I don't know how long some of you have been on here, but I would cut Picasso some slack on the misspelling. He's the best writer on here. It's a short story and some of you can't get through it! Grow up! Read the post and ponder it.

I don’t think you realize how meticulously the “report” was written.

There was no misspelling, none.

 

[tunacraze]

I don’t think you realize how meticulously the “report” was written.

There was no misspelling, none.

That very well could be. I've not gotten there yet.

 

[tunacraze]

I don’t think you realize how meticulously the “report” was written.

There was no misspelling, none.

Son of a bitch! I just googled it!

 

[tunacraze]

Love your posts Joe!

 

[steve k]

Man is it just me or does it take some people a long time to tell a story? Not trying to be a dick but........................By the way what is a maroon? I need to go take a nap after reading that.

Clearly, you’re not part of the target audience. You see, after reading the account of the whole experience, you shouldn’t be tired and need a nap. You should be enlightened and invigorated.

Seaya

 

[Tykkyt E Blue]

Man is it just me or does it take some people a long time to tell a story? Not trying to be a dick but........................By the way what is a maroon? I need to go take a nap after reading that.

Its actually.. Ultra mArOON.. gulli-bull.. Ning - cow-poop
If you know.. You know
😜😁🤣

 

[Steamin' Seaman]

Best report I’ve ever read…..says a lot about the state of the industry….poor fishing and murderous maroons!!!!

Just a bird dude!! Maybe go to Portland and protest!!

 

[jeff savage]

I guess your name is Joe. I don’t know you, but my name is Jeff savage. I personally know the person you call “Elbows” and his son you refer to as “DH.” I’m not here to debate whether or not a bird was killed, or how. I am a father; I don’t know if you are. Regardless, you publicly are trying to defame someone I know, who has helped me become a better fisherman, and you called his son a piece of shit. That is completely unacceptable. No matter what happened, you are recounting your experience in a way that is slanderous, and cowardly. I know for a fact you never said that about his son to his face, and if I ever see you in person I will ask you why. I hope you have a good answer.

 

[kevin a]

Killing a bird is down right wrong. I hope they fire the person responsible. But they won’t. It happened on one of my trips. Never will I ride a boat that looks the other way. He’s a punk period!

He's beyond a punk, There's no place for that in our world. I hope he get's paid back for his wrong doing.

 

[kevin a]

Geez, lighten up. It’s a vacation, going off on others, calling them maroons, makes you the moron… and then I read about elbows and his dh son killing the bird and decided that all is forgiven! I haven’t met you (have I?) but I like you… I’d have gone off on them big time and everyone outside would’ve known it.

It sounds like he already had 4 maroons and elbows and his dh son, Green Pea, etc, 4-5 into the trip by the 4th day of the trip (with 26 people aboard and he is approaching almost 1/3rd of the passengers on the boat that he had issues with or were maroons, Off to a good Impression) As you said it's a vacation and chill out, as the famous Rodney King once said "Can't we all Just get Along". In my 40 plus years of fishing long range trips, I've only encountered maybe a handful of that type of people that what ever you do, you can't ever make them happy, it's a no win situation! All you do is just ignored them and go about your own business. One or two rotten apples will never spoil my trip!

 

[hucklongfin]

It sounds like he already had 4 maroons and elbows and his dh son, Green Pea, etc, 4-5 into the trip by the 4th day of the trip (with only 18 people aboard and he is approaching almost 1/2 the passengers on the boat that he had issues with or were maroons) As you said it's a vacation and chill out, as the famous Rodney King once said "Can't we all Just get Along". In my 40 plus years of fishing long range trips, I've only encountered maybe a handful of that type of people that what ever you do, you can't ever make them happy, it's a no win situation! All you do is just ignored them and go about your own business. One or two rotten apples will never spoil my trip!

Ah, but those were his comments in this trip report, right?, not what he said to them on board. I’ve certainly thought much worse about some of the morons/assholes/douche bags/f’n idiots/drunks I’ve had on some trips. One of whom drank like an alcoholic fish, yelled at his wife, accused deckhands of hiding beer from him and yet I ran into him a couple of weeks later and he treated me like he was my best friend. I wasn’t but I didn’t go off on him even though I ”though” a lot worse things than “maroon”. At one point two of his friends were sitting in the salon, I asked them if he was their friend, they said yes! I asked why? They hesitated, then said he had a good soul. Really? He keeps it well hidden! He was #1 on the wait list for another trip on that boat… he didn’t make it after I talked to the charter master!

 

[kevin a]

Ah, but those were his comments in this trip report, right?, not what he said to them on board. I’ve certainly thought much worse about some of the morons/assholes/douche bags/f’n idiots/drunks I’ve had on some trips. One of whom drank like an alcoholic fish, yelled at his wife, accused deckhands of hiding beer from him and yet I ran into him a couple of weeks later and he treated me like he was my best friend. I wasn’t but I didn’t go off on him even though I ”though” a lot worse things than “maroon”. At one point two of his friends were sitting in the salon, I asked them if he was their friend, they said yes! I asked why? They hesitated, then said he had a good soul. Really? He keeps it well hidden! He was #1 on the wait list for another trip on that boat… he didn’t make it after I talked to the charter master!

I could only Imagined what he said or did to provoked this , Were only hearing one side and it's not even good. Just like when he told the table behind him at dinner time "To Shut The Fuck Up", I've got a lot of patience, But I don't know if, I could of held back and kept my mouth shut on that comment!!!" A side note, He said Maria gave him his own stateroom, I bet the C.M from the last trip told Maria in the office, "If he books again, Give him his own stateroom, because no one on next years trip will be in a stateroom with him! I don't find that hard to believe. Also the 9 other people that were on that trip, probably canceled their trip, "When they found out he was going to on the trip. The way he was behaving on this trip, I surely wouldn't re-book the following years trip , If he was on it !!"

 

[kevin a]

Begin Part Two



SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 13
"HE'S ALL HAT, NO CATTLE..."
5:30 a.m.
We've been on the road traveling, traveling since three p.m. yesterday.
We put out the trollers.
Team One again.

6 a.m.
The Captain put the hook down so Chef Mike,
and his helper,
the Fabulous Fernando,
can serve breakfast.

It's breezy today, and the water is bumpy.
Is it fishable?
TBD.

7 a.m.
The lads have caught a few small ones.
Yellowfin tuna, yellowtail jacks, and a barracuda????
What the hey, that is something you don't see on a long range trip.

8 a.m.
Back on the troll.
Because I haven't pinned on a bait this morning,
the C M (charter master) feels he's entitled to compare me to a Caltrans worker.
He told me he was going to get me a shovel to lean on if I was just going to supervise.
I told him I have family who work for Caltrans.
I told him it's a frigging dangerous job.
I told him I didn't appreciate his attempt at humor.
What a maroon.
I moved to another spot on the deck.

I had already cautioned another angler this morning to be careful,
after he made a joke about Mexicans I found offensive.

Another angler approaches me and offers me unsolicited advice about how to "catch 'em".
Another maroon.
Three in one morning.
What are the odds on that?

9 a.m.
Finally.
Denver Charlie does it again.
Pulls a whopper in on the troll.

We go back on the troll.
Charlie loans his lucky trolling gear to me,
who is next up on Team Two.

In no time at all, I get bit too.
Visions of a giant wahoo dance through my head,
but it's only a peanut yellowfin tuna for me.
You never know.

The bumpy sea starts to lay down a bit.
The breeze has subsided.
Could be a nice day.

We trolled and stopped to fish for a couple of hours.
Burn diesel, or burn bait, I think they call it

11 a.m.
Big Pete scores, and takes Team Two off of the hook and out of the stern.

12:20 p.m.
THE INCIDENT. (bonus chapter at the end)

1 p.m.
Moving south to our next destination.
Fresh made, not out of a can, tuna sandwiches for lunch.
My table mate thinks the players can hear him,
so he keeps yelling at the football game on the television.
Another maroon.

It's sunny now, but the wind and the bump are back.

Around two thirty,
the Captain calls us into the galley for a seminar on tuna fishing techniques.
It was sparsely attended.
Maybe those missing guys already know everything they need to know.
You never know.
They might.

karma #1
While we are in the seminar,
Elbow's trolling outfit, hanging off the stern, gets spooled.
Lost his lure and line.
Boo hoo.

5:30 p.m.
Between cocktails, I finished rigging tuna outfits for me and Green Pea.
Time to relax.
Someone put some music on.

8 p.m.
Dinner with some of the old guys,
and a newcomer,
Hollywood Justin.
Turns out, some of his people knew some of my people and vice versa.
Small world, huh?
Told me he's read some of my work.
Didn't say he "liked" it.
He just said he read it.


MONDAY, NOVEMBER 14
2 a.m.
Wake Up Call.
"Stand by" to make bait.

3 a.m.
We try to sabiki up some small mackerels.

5 a.m.
Mission accomplished.
I'm so tired, but now it's time to start tuna fishing.

6 a.m.
Breakfast with some new guys.
Green Pea, Cool Nate, and Young Mark.
Chris from the Chris & Brian show in the morning.
Young Mark asks me if I am Loreto Joe.
I tell him I am.
He tells me we have a mutual friend.
He tells me I fished with this friend in Puerto Vallarta.
He tells me our friend says that I'm a lot of fun to fish with.
I tell Young Mark I will try to not disappoint him.

7 a.m.
Taking a break from "chunking",
I have a chat with John Killer,
one of the good guys,
and a regular on this trip.
He's a "man of the world" and I always enjoy talking with him about anything.
He knows a lot.
I know a little.

8 a.m.
MARLIN CITY, MEXICO
If you were a marlin fisherman, you would be in heaven.
Everybody who wants one, well, you know.
I thought about "trying" for one, for about a second.
Common sense knocked me upside my head.
Save the wear & tear on your body, and your tackle, for something worthwhile.
They are fun on light tackle, but the prolonged fight is not good for the fish.

I started an informal poll amongst the veteran tuna guys.
Which is worse?
Sharks, or Marlins?
It was about fifty fifty.
Unless you ask,
you never know,

Karma #2
Elbows is limping.
Banged his knee on a pipe in the bow.
Now he's icing it down.
Boo Hoo.

9 a.m.
Almost up on the kite,
when # 6 shows up late,
and grabs the outfit from my hands.

9:45 a.m.
In my second most favorite place to be,
I couldn't stay long.
Striped Marlin takes my kite bait.
I reel it in on the heavy gear.
The crew releases it unharmed to fight another day.
It turned out to be the highlight of the trip for me.
You never know.

Chatting with Denver Charlie, we discuss our friend Colorado.
Stevus, in hospice, may not be alive when we get off of the boat.
You never know.
Charlie wants me to write a book.
We've got a good title for it,
The Story of Stevus and the Holy Rail.
Charlie shows me the rod he's fishing with.
One of Stevus', wrapped by Charlie.
I cried like a baby.

We take off for the Finger Bank.
Our ETA is three o'clock.

While traveling,
and chatting with some of the guys,
I get a chance to meet Daniel from Hacienda Heights, CA.
Daniel is a big, big man, with a unique sense of humor.

He's rolling with his bud, Big Bad John,
and son, Jonathon.
Big Bad reminds me of my favorite uncle, Ernesto.
That samemachismo, and deep baritone.

Captain Kevin,
comes by to ask us if we're having a good time.
I like Kevin, a lot.
I ask him to tell us about his worst passengers,
besides me.
You know, the real Hall of Shameguys.

The story he spun sounded like a Stephen King Nightmare.

Noon
Another crowd favorite from the galley today, wahoo enchiladas.
Fernando put on some lively music,
and it was almost like being in Mexico...

2:30 p.m.
We approach something.
Could be the Morgan.
Could be the Finger.
One undersea bank looks the same as another out here.
We drop the hook and try for them.
You never know.

4 p.m.
We are traveling again.
Chatting with Dirty Dan,
scanning the horizon,
I tell Dirt the ocean is like a desert today.
We are traveling from one dry oasis to another.
Gallows humor, I think they call that.

6 p.m.
Waiting for the second call to dinner,
I'm listening to some Carlos,
and having a cocktail.
I'm going over something Capt. Kevin said earlier during our chat.
A number of people get on board thinking they know more than a "licensed" and "respected" Skipper.
Some folks treat them like some sort of Uber, merely a service provider.
That's hard to believe.
Me?
I wouldn't even dare dream about telling a Captain,
or crew member how to do their job.

8 p.m.
Dinner
I chatted up Elbows afterwards to see if this relationship could be salvaged.
He told me he wasn't going to make excuses,
then he started making excuses.

9 p.m.
What a day!
I showered and passed out.


TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 15
"A NEW DAY, A NEW HOPE..."
I'm up early.
I finally slept.
Exhaustion can do that for you.
I am a little sore, but some tylenol will fix that up.
Cup of coffee on the back deck solo,
I can see the peak near Magdalena Bay off in the eastern sky.
I'm thinking about stuff.
Wondering what MY presentation looks like.

I go in for breakfast at sunrise.

6:30 a.m.
We stop and fish the 38 spot.

7 a,m.
We are leaving for the 23 spot.

7:40 a.m.
We arrive.
They fish.
I chat with Larry and Moses, aka Richard.
Larry wears a golf visor all of the time on deck.
I ask Moses if Larry really plays,
or if like me,
he's all hat and no cattle.
Moses says oh no, Larry's a real player.
Moses tells me that he, himself, used to play a lot,
but not since he retired.
That's kind of ironic, isn't it?

Green Pea is bragging about how well he is progressing.
Like Han to Luke, I tell him, "Don't get cocky Kid!"

The C.M. stops by my spot to inform me,
that in my attire today,
I look like a giant water bottle.
Similar to the one he is giving away as a prize today.
I moved to another spot on the deck,
but I'm running out of spots to move to.

10 a.m.
Wherever we are,
it's a good thing we came, boy!
A little bit of everything for everybody.
Yellowfin tuna, yellowtail jacks, even a rockfish?
Time to load up those groceries.
Green Pea gets himself a nice yellowtail,
and he's got himself a new trainer.
How sweet!

11 a.m.
Biting fish,
and a cocktail can really change one's perspective.
The yellowfin tuna are boiling behind the boat.
Giant frigate birds circle overhead.
It's hot, it's sunny.
It's a beautiful morning worthy of an inspirational greeting card.

25.16.50 x 112.511
Relaxing upstairs,
I think we are being "harassed" by some of the local boats from Magdalena Bay.
The Captain calls them maroons when the Soledad, and the Salvaje, drive across his stern.
Unsolicited, I volunteer an opinion that their "evil intent" suggests otherwise.
Like, I know more than a Captain?
Who's the maroon now?

11:30 a.m.
On the move,
I give Green Pea some more to contemplate today.
Some of the veteran stuff it took me years to learn,
I'm going to hand it to him this week.

1 p.m.
On the move after lunch.
A golden pork cutlet, brown gravy, white rice, and a colorful little pasta salad.
Watermelon juice that went down perfectly with a shot of vodka on the rocks.

2:30 p.m.
Green Pea is on the troll!

2:45 p.m.
Pea struck out.
Someone else got bit,
Pea got all excited and followed along to watch the action,
and forgot to wind in his trolling outfit.
Captain Andrew, another of my faves, gave him a gentle reminder.

I give Pea the "it's not the fish we're after" speech that Uncle Leoski gave me when I came on board this charter.
"It's the memories, the people, the places, the things we did together."
That's what we're really chasing out here.

4 p.m.
Stopping to fish,
Green Pea is starting to "get it".

5 p.m.
The bite is still going on.
It's a smorgasbord.
Even a barracuda??
Watching the action, standing up top,
Andy tells me he's read my stuff.
I was stunned.
Didn't say he liked it.
Just said he read it.
You never know, he might.

Later,
The Second call for dinner.
I slide into table two with old friends.
The C.M., and others, have finished their dinner,
and are discussing something behind me at table three.
This prattle went on and on, and started to grate on me.
By the time Fernando brought me a plate of food, I was steaming.
Fernando told me later, he could see it coming out of my ears.

Fed up finally, I turned around and told them to shut the F**K up.
I told them I would like the same courtesy they were afforded earlier.
A little peace and quiet while I dine.
Oh shit!
Now, we have a problem, as Andy would say.

I turned back around to the stunned faces of my tablemates.
I lost my appetite.
I ruined dinner for my mates, and probably the guys at table one too.
Killer told me later I could have been a wee bit more diplomatic.
And now, I've got to formulate an apology.
What a maroon!

The C. M. was silent, but still in the room when I got up from the table.
I went straight to him and begged for his forgiveness.
He treated me better than I deserved.


WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 16

A sleepless night as you can imagine.
No questions about my presentation today.
I suck.
A grey, overcast sky matches my mood.
Somedays, a 110' boat ain't big enough.
Today will be one of those days for me.

Everything seems fine as the dawn breaks.
Pea is at the bait tank, getting a lesson from Andy.
Pea missed the "awesome" yellowtail bite last night around eleven p.m.,
despite the Captain's pleas for Pea and others to get up and "check it out".

6:30 a.m.
Pulling the anchor.
Everyone is waiting for the first call.
It's late this morning.
It's biscuits & gravy day.
I went into the galley when it was my turn,
and I heard someone mention "Cadillac coffee".
Boy, did that stir some memories of old friends and fishing buddies.
I daydreamed about them as I ate my breakfast.

7 a.m.
Andy must have called his buds into this biting spot.
The American Angler, the Spirit of Adventure, and Royal Star have all joined the party and are fishing nearby.

7:30 a.m.
We stop and try for some.
You never know.
Charlie, and Big Pete cruise by my spot on the deck,
wanting to check my mental state this morning.
They both suggest, independently, that I not let last night ruin today.
Good men.

8:30 a.m.
Sun's out now.
It's warming up fast.
I go down to grab my binos,
when I come back up,
John Killer and I share our different visions of the future for the long range fleet.

8:40 a.m.
East Coast Tommy gets a wahoo!!
His buddy, Andre had already got one earlier, now they have the bookend.
That wahoo will keep people at the rail, trying.
Andy likes it when people "try" for them.

Charlie tells a joke about me being good at keeping secrets.
"It's the people Joe tells who are the problem...."
I love That Guy!

10 a.m.
We're catching small ones,
and I'm thinking about Jack Nilsen.
The code he lived by, "let the good times roll".
He carried his music with him.
Cool was his companion.
He didn't invent them,
but he was the King of the Ride down/fly back trips.
He'd spend three days relaxing at the East Cape,
playing with friends,
while the boat delivered our cargo to San Diego.
He's the reason we are on the boat today.
His passion was making you feel welcome.
Jack felt like every trip was a chapter,
and every year we write a new book.

I view every angler that way.
A book to be opened, enjoyed, and put back on the shelf.
Especially this trip.

He left us a couple of years ago, way too soon.
He's very missed.

When will it be your last adventure?
You never know.

11 a.m.
People with computers and phones keep trying to give me the news of the world that I have no desire or need to hear.

11:30 a.m.
MAHI MAHI CITY, MEXICO
Everyone who wants one, well, you know.
We even caught a stray bluefin.
Maybe a refugee from the farming pens near Ensenada?
You never know, it could be.

Noon
Greg from Pismo Beach is on one.
He's fighting two battles simultaneously.
He turns the handle of his reel,
he pushes his eyeglasses back up his nose bridge.
Turn the handle, push the glasses.
He's on time, he's making progress,
but I was afraid those glasses were going to end up at the bottom of the ocean.
I was tempted to step in,
but if he lost the fish,
I didn't want to be any part of it.
Mind your business.

Chef's salad for lunch in the galley.
Biting tuna in the stern.
Cool Nate gets a nicer one.

In the afternoon,
Andy went for a look around,
but we ended up right where we started.
It was nice, light line fishing for quality fish.
Perfect for Green Pea to hone his skills.

8 p.m.
The party started early this afternoon.

At dinner, I got a big helping of karma.
The TV shouter on my right,
and the C.M. holding court behind me again.
I held it together this time,
amazing my tablemates in the process.

8:30 p.m.
Dirty Dan spinning the discs in the stern tonight.
He went deep into the vault.
When I heard him play "Piano Man",
it stirred memories of my youth.

FADE TO BLACK....


THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 17

Karma #3
Elbows is on Charlie's shit list now.
Green Pea says he and Elbows clashed early in the trip over space in the rack.

7:30 a.m.
Picking up where we left off,
same fish, different day.

8 a.m.
Trolling merrily, merrily along.
Life is but a dream.

8:30 a.m.
We stop and try.
It's hot, sunny, and clear.
We are still getting little ones.
It's the only game going on.
Rumor going around the deck about another Marlin tourney tomorrow.

10 a.m.
Back to the same place we left.
Same fish.
The grocery getting continues.

Noon
We go on the move.
I go in for lunch.
Boat Burger day.
If you know, you know.
The TV shouter keeps trying to engage me.
He's not getting the hint.
I may have to insult him.
You do what you gotta do.

1:15 p.m.
We stop for some more Mahi madness.
The lads easily fill their limits in fifteen minutes of fishing.

2:30 p.m.
On our way to Magdalena Bay to catch some more bait.
ETA is midnight.
Ouch!

3:45 p.m.
Party now, Pay later.
The air conditioning system is giving the crew some problems.

7:30 p.m.
No farewell dinner tonight.
No champagne.
No surprise.
Everyone faded to dark.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 18
Sometime in the morning....
We got here around midnight.
I didn't get up right away.
Last night, my pleas for a senior discount on the bait making was denied.
"You have to be eighty for that Joe", they told me.
My argument that since I wasn't using any, I shouldn't be obliged to make it, was rejected without comment.

Fifteen minutes later, sounding exhausted,
he came on the PA,
and strongly suggested that NOW would be a good time to try for them.
I think he called me out by name.
When I finally stumbled out on deck,
someone made a crack.
"Is there a problem?", I asked.
Silence, except for the hum of the generator.
I went to work.

After breakfast, I was chatting with Moses again.
Like me, he's an old guy who hasn't adapted well to today's technology.
Luckily, he has grandkids who help him navigate the modern world.
Discussing fishing, I tell Moses there is only one prize I'm chasing now.
The one trophy that's eluded me.
The Sportsmanship Award.
I tell Moses I blew my shot this trip when I hammered the C.M. at dinner.
Moses tells me he heard the shouting, but he didn't know I was the maroon involved.

7:30 a.m.
On the Banco Papas for a tuna/marlin tourney.
Someone is going to win the C.M.'s daily prize today for either:
a) the largest tuna landed, or
b) the most marlin released at the boat.
Andy's version of Survivor, strategy is key.
One small tuna, any tuna, will trump ten or twelve releases.
What to do?
Which path to choose?
You never know.

8:30 a.m.
They put up the kite/balloon combo thing and called for anglers number 8 and 9.
I realize that as #7, I was the last guy to catch a fish from the kite.
That was days ago.
I check my notes.
That was four days ago.
I remember thinking at the time, "This might be the highlight of the trip for me."
Am I psychic?
More likely psychotic.

Charlie is on something.
Andy hopes it's a big tuna.
Charlie's not sure, and we'll never know, because his line broke.
Charlie is pretty confident it was a tail-wrapped marlin,
based on the way it pulled the line.
You never know.

9 a.m.
Sunny.
Warm.
Big Game Fishing at its finest,
if you care for marlin.
Elbows and his D.H. son have teamed up,
and are the only ones aggressively pursuing today's prize.
Their display of aggressiveness impresses no one.
When the C.M. actually sanctions their behavior,
and awards them a prize,
I wonder what Jack would say.

10 a.m.
Hollywood Justin goes for a boat ride.
He's on something pulling line.
Andy sent him and two crew members out on one of the little skiffs we're carrying this trip.
With modern reels, and spectra line, skiffs are old school.
I wondered if Andy just wanted to give the crew some practice,
Justin a memory,
and the rest of us a show.
They didn't get very far away from us before Justin reeled up a tail wrapped marlin.
You never know.

11:45 a.m.
Green Pea, up on the kite, gets a chance to fight and release a marlin on heavy tackle.

Noon
After Mike's Giant Shrimp Salad for lunch,
those of us getting off of the boat tomorrow,
start breaking down our tackle.

4 p.m.
We take off for Cabo San Lucas.

5 p.m.
Elbows asks for me to be DQ'ed from C.M.'s last give-away for lack of participation.
Class, pure class.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 19
Said adios' to the fellas.
Checked into my hotel and began the next, great, American fishing story.

Reviewing my notes over a michelada.
This was NOT long range fishing.
With 26 anglers, and their baggage scattered about,
no place no stand or sit.
This was like back to back to back three day trips on an overloaded one day boat out of H & M landing.
Only the food was better.

Elbows and his aggressiveness rubbed a lot of people the wrong way,
It forced them to become more aggressive as a result.
We made a bad first impression on the newbies and the tourists.
Most true long range guys I've met are laid back,
and try to help the new guys,
not beat them down.

Most long range guys are sportsmen,
and guardians of the resource.
Most, not all.

We had one who he thinks is agent 003 with a license to kill,
granted by some higher authority.
Limits? What's that?
He harvests but doesn't tag.
Just toss them aside.
He justifies it, but it's sad.
Fernando tells me, "don't be angry, pity him, he's sick."

Green Pea wasn't immune from the blood lust either.
I get it.
But right is right, and wrong is wrong.
I'm no judge or jury, just another maroon trying to have some fun in the current "state of life" going on around us.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 20
Sitting on my balcony.
Watching the moon set,
and the sun rise.
Thinking about the boat riders, in their 24th of 72 hours.
Jazz music in the background, hot coffee, luxurious surroundings.
Seeing the workers down below,
getting ready to scrub and polish the pool deck before dawn,
reminds me of my early days in Hollywood, scrubbing and waxing sound stage floors.
Humble beginnings.
Come a long way.
I got lucky.

Mama's for breakfast with Green Pea.
If you know, you know.
Our waitress has "la cara de Freda" and I ask for a photo with her.
It's Pea's first time in Cabo.
I remember my first time.
I can experience it again through his eyes.

After breakfast, I take him for a walk along the malecon for some people watching.
I teach the new guy how to have fun with the vendors, not be annoyed by them.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21
Green Pea and I fly back to San Diego.
Dinner with Charlie & his girl.
Magic Mike, aka Splash, and his new wife.
Mike G man, and his lovely wife.
We met up at Kansas City BBQ.
The joint was in the Top Gun movie.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 22
Up early to meet the boat.
Unload our gear.
Unload the fish.

As he stacks his fish,
sorts them out,
and deals with the fish processor,
I watch Green Pea from a distance.
I'm proud of him.

It was fun watching him go from an absolute newbie to a proficient fisherman.
Taking those baby steps.
Stepping up to go first of all.
Choosing his weapon.
Going to the tank.
Baiting up.
Going to the rail.
Casting out.
Feel the heartbeat of the live bait.
Feel the pull of the tuna.
The spool spins.
You pull the trigger.
It's game on.
He get's it now.

Saying good-byes,
and good lucks,
wondering who will be back next year.
You never know.

El Fin


CAUTION: THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS GRAPHIC IMAGES
I'M WARNING YOU!!! IT'S NOT PLEASANT READING!
IT WASN'T, AND ISN'T,
PLEASANT LIVING WITH IT IN MY HEAD.

THE INCIDENT
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2022
I was going along,
minding my own business,
when Fate dealt me a card from the bottom of the deck.

The Captain asks us to wind in our lines so we can move to a new spot.
Standing midship, on the starboard side,
I look to my left, towards the stern.

I see Elbows winding in his line.
He has caught a sea bird who tried to steal his bait.
His son, the D.H., deckhand or dickhead, either will be accurate,
is standing by, to Elbow's left as they face the stern.

When Elbows lifts the hooked bird out of the water,
and to the wooden rail,
D.H. takes out his steel pliers and smashes the head of the poor bird to a pulp.
I had to turn my head away for a second.
When I look back, they are both laughing.

Sickest human behavior I have witnessed in a while, and I've seen sick stuff.
I wanted to take an axe handle to his head and see how he liked it.
And his rotten old man too
You could see this poisoned apple hadn't fallen far from the tree.
I held my anger in check.

As we drove away, I see the poor creature, spread eagle on the surface, its head down in the water beneath it,
and its mate swimming around in circles,
wondering WTF just happened.

Mind your business?
Or follow your spirit?
I went to Elbows and asked him why he leaves dead sea birds in his wake.
I told him I just lost all respect I had for him & his POS son.
I told him he should advise his son to be more careful,
because you don't know who's watching you.

I probably should have gone to the Captain right then and there,
and made a big stink about it,
but I didn't.
I spoke with the Captain before getting off of the boat,
and told him I wasn't going to tip that POS one dime.
I would tip the other crew members directly because they had treated me well.
I respect and admire them.
I can't imagine Andrew, Kevin, Justin, Mike or Fernando doing anything similar.
But if they're willing to keep that POS as a crew member and teammate,
I'm going to have to rethink everything.

I let the anger build up inside of me.
I let it brew and stew.
I don't know if it played a part in my interactions with the other passengers, I imagine it did.

I let Elbows come to me and say he wasn't going to make excuses for his POS son.
He then proceeded to make excuses.
"He's tired."
"His shoulder hurts."
Like somehow, he could justify it.

For the rest of the journey, I kept seeing that shit over and over in my head,
and getting angrier and angrier.
D.H., free as a bird,
and his Father, walking the deck like they own this boat,
laughing, joking, having a good old time,
winning prizes from the Charter Master even.

I wanted to kill both of them.
I lost a shitload of sleep.
I can't get what I saw out of my head.
Why do I have to lose sleep?
Why do I have to carry this burden around with me the rest of my life?

Thousands of dollars I paid them, and this is the Memory I'm left with.
It sucks, but I'm not asking for pity.

When I spoke with him last, the Captain seems to feel that a severe tongue lashing is an adequate punishment.
Are you kidding me?
In my book, that makes the Captain an accessory.
I want D.H. gone.
I want my pound of flesh for that little bird.

It is what it is.
I think that behavior is a sign of severe mental problems.
I think that D.H. needs to be kept off of any boat, on any coast, in any ocean, period.

Remember those photos I thanked the crew for.
They are useless to me now, as D.H. is in both.
I can't stand to look at his smiley face.

He killed a little bit of me too.
I'm no fun carrying this around.
I'm tired of thinking about it,
but I can't stop thinking about it.
I'm talking to myself, out loud.
I think I'm going insane.
That's not good.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
in and for the court of public opinion,
what's your verdict?

The way you keep empathizing about the bird incident and losing sleep and how it possibly played a role on your behavior on the the trip and can't stop thinking about it , etc. It kind of smells like a Law Suit to me, against the boat on your behalf, For Emotional Distress, Sleep Disorders, Punitive Damages, Etc.

 

[kevin a]

Man is it just me or does it take some people a long time to tell a story? Not trying to be a dick but........................By the way what is a maroon? I need to go take a nap after reading that.

That is someone who has to much time on his hands, I'm surprised he didn't get down to seconds when describing the time frame.

 

[kevin a]

I enjoyed your recount of the trip Joe. Thank you.
There is no excuse for mistreating by-catch, be it birds, small fish, etc.
We are in their world.
We (anglers and crew alike) should strive to lessen our impact. This includes going above and beyond, remove hooks when possible. Gentle handling of creatures that are simply trying to survive.
To do otherwise jeopardizes our sport and our humanity.

P

The birds are the fisherman's eye in the sky, without them, it would make it a lot more difficult in try to locate fish!!! Your only hurting yourself when you kill the birds if you do a lot of fishing. Not to Change subjects but Seals are a different story, The F&G and the PFMC needs to address the out of control seal population on the West Coast, Their worried about species being over fished, Dwindling bait supplies and so on, But they never seem to agree on a solution for seal control. When I see a seal getting mauled by a Great White or a Mako, I wish we had more sharks that would take care of business. I ask a Fish and Game Warden last week when I go boarded, "What to do call a dead seal floating?" He gave me this peculiar look and said what do you call it?" I told him a "Good Start". He didn't see any humor in my remark. Then I ask him, Have any of the big goats in Sacramento discussed the "Out of control seal problem" in their meetings? He said it's always brought up by the Public and we don't see any problem with the seals and they have a right just like everything else in the ocean to survive! I just shook my head in disbelief! After I made my dead seal comment, They were determined to cite me for something. After 30 minutes going through my boat, checking all my paper work, measuring a couple ling cods and a WSB twice and counting them twice, They told me to have a nice day, if they can't take a joke.

 

[thinman]

Having been doing long range since 1987 and been on 35 + trips of 15 days or longer, I have pretty much seen it all. From bad passengers, bad deckhands, bad skippers, fights, drugs, drunks, and everything in between. When you are on a boat with 26 + passengers, you're bound to run into issues at some point. Going out on these trips you need to have thick skin and try to ignore the things you see and hear that you disagree with. I don't condone the killing of birds or sharks for that matter, and I think it is completely wrong, but I just try to ignore it and go about my business. It's going to happen whether I like it or not and if it affected me as much as it seems to have affected the original poster of this thread, I would probably just not go on these trips or ride a different boat. Maybe it's wrong of me to feel this way but I'm not going to let these things ruin my trip. JMO.....

 

[Workplacesafety]

I don't get to fish as much as I used to. I appreciate Joe's on the spot reporting. Wasn't there, feel like I was, Thanks!

 

[billa]

I want to apologize to Picaso and everyone else for my earlier post. As I get older I tend to say and do some stupid shit on occasion. Just ask my wife. I was the maroon.

 

[zzzzz]

Was skimming looking for fishing action. Taking notes by the hour! Yikes

I'm not a Karen. For me personally. I do not like seabirds being murdered or mistreated. They help us so much and we are in their environment. Laying out a buffet for them to eat

Unless the bird needs to be put out of its misery

I really do not like cigarette butts being thrown overboard. Roll the cherry out and throw the butt away. Not that hard

 

[zzzzz]

.

 

[terryc.]

I think its fricken vile what DH did and I hope Picasso keeps posting on future trips always a fun read.

 

[STICK 'EM]

Well, I guess since Picasso pulled me into this by name I should say a little something.
My name is Mark referred to in Joe’s post as young Mark (which with my 50th right around the corner is a compliment I guess).

I too enjoy the written word and can tell you firsthand that in the literary world what this garbled bunch of sentence fragments compiled by someone who can’t quite filter the truth through their hazed perception is called is an unreliable narrator.
It does make for a spirited read, but is so skewed and presents so few actual details, that although it makes for a fun read it is a horribly biased account that doesn’t quite follow fact.
But, since that omniscient egret that did nothing but sit around the bait tank taking up space, heckling other passengers and then decided to fly off leaving this pile of crap behind it on the forum I just thought I’d clean up a little bit behind that bird.

First let’s talk about elbows. He’s the guy that helped the crew offload the trip that came in before us for a seamless turn around while the egret and green pee smoked weed and drank at the back of the line. Then elbows went to break down all the cardboard destined for recycling.
Then Picasso, he helped lug gear onto the boat for everyone even your crap you weren’t there to load.
Guess what else, those crab legs you said were a little much for you were provided by him for the entire group. What a dick.

Your Karma post is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever read regarding someone getting hurt. But since you were at the stern drinking I will fill you in on exactly what happened. A not too mobile angler (notice I didn’t say who) was hung in the anchor line with a thrashing marlin on the business end. Elbows jumped on the pulpit and unwrapped him and handed his rod back. As he got down he hit his leg and was badly bruised. I’m glad you think he had it coming.
The fact that you and green pee seemed to be above the law using illicit drugs at the tackle rack as you saw fit was blatant disregard for the rest of the passengers on the trip, much less disrespectful to the captain and crew. Great mentoring.
And no, green pee did not Learn how to fish, but had his fish hooked and handed to him by Andy over and over-so let’s not get your feathers all fluffed up like you were some great mentor. He learned nothing from you but how to act like a douche on a boat.

In closing I will add that the only person who has ever ruined a long range trip for me is that goofy little man in the chipmunk suit that was all hopped up on sugar and caffeine bouncing off the rails calling me Brother. Sickening.
And no, it wasn’t the one where he chopped up his intrepid jacket into little pieces on the stateroom floor like a spoiled 5 year old.

And by the way Picasso we are talking about the bird with the 5/0 super mutu sticking out of its head right?

 

[zzzzz]

2 sides to every story. Love the seabirds

By the way. Disposing a cigarette butt. Into the trash or small pocket then disposed of. Instead of just throwing overboard

Should make any ocean lover feel good

 

[swami 805]

And now for the rest of the story. (Paul Harvey)