Offshore Solo Voyager 6/13

picasso

Member
Jul 27, 2009
628
1,630
los angeles
Name
joe
Boat Name
17 Boston Whaler
My scheduled trip on my favorite boat got cancelled at the last minute.
I still wanted to go fishing though,
so I cast myself upon the internet to see what I could catch.
The only thing my search brought up was a single spot on a load of twelve aboard the Voyager out of Seaforth Landing.
I booked it.

That's six more than I was expecting to be fishing with this week,
but half of the number I fished with on the Aztec two weeks ago.

Drove down a day early and got a room near the Big Three Landings.
Took a Sunday afternoon walk along the waterfront to soak up some more of that ambiance.
I took the long walk to the end of the Pt. Loma dock to say "hi",
to Captains Ryan and Jody of the boat, Game Changer,
both of whom are holding paint brushes, instead of fishing rods.
They're STILL finishing up their boat work,
delayed by circumstances beyond their control.
I wished 'em good luck.
They did the same to me.

I picked up an early dinner to go,
and as I'm walking through the parking lot of Pt Loma Seafoods,
a buggy turns the corner.
I recognize Captain Andy Cates of the Red Rooster III as the driver.
Andy pauses a second, scans his memory bank, remembers me,
and in spite of that,
says "hello" anyways.
He even remembered my name.
I thought about our chance encounter as I ate,
and took it to be a good omen.

MONDAY

I got to the landing around nine for a ten a.m. departure.
Check in went smoothly.
No fuel surcharge,
No covid test.
I got bunk number one.
Another good omen???

While waiting to board,
I strike up a conversation with a solo angler headed out on the Polaris Supreme.
As its name implies, it's pretty deluxe.
It offers the creature comforts and amenities of a long range boat,
but in the short range arena.
Parked nearby, the Voyager looks like it's little baby brother.
The little engine that could.
I was still in conversation with that angler,
when a salty looking fellow walked by and said, "Hey Joe".
I said "Hey" back, and "who are you?"
He didn't look at all familiar to me.
He says, "We rode the Royal Star together."
I said, "That had to be like a decade ago."
He says, "Yup."
"And you remember me?"
"You're a memorable guy."

Turns out Salty, real name Mark, is working on the Supreme now.
and takes pride in it.
When I tell him I'm on the little engine that could,
his mood changes.
"Oh, I thought you were with us."
He wished me good luck, so I bid him the same.
I took my encounter with Salty to be another good omen.

About ten minutes later,
Salty comes back and tells me there was a "no show" on their trip today,
and I could probably trade my ticket on the little engine for something on the Supreme.
I told him I truly appreciated the offer,
and that he was looking out for my behalf,
but I was gonna stick with the little engine.
I could tell he was disappointed with my decision,
but he put a smile on his face,
and wished me good luck again.

An announcement on the PA system suggested the Voyager was ready for boarding.
We're so small, there were no cones, no signs, no numerical line ups.
Just a "come on down!"

I was the first to arrive and handed my rods to crewman Dan.
Captain Chuck welcomed me as I stepped aboard.
I stowed my gear in my bunk,
came upstairs and said hello to Niko,
the personable young fellow running the galley this trip.

There was another captain on board.
I heard his voice on the PA,
but I never saw him.
He was working the night shift,
and because I seldom fish the night shift,
our paths never crossed.

As is my custom, I introduced myself to a couple of passengers standing nearby.

I discovered a party of eight makes up the bulk of our group.
They, like me, had been a victim of a last minute cancellation.
Their ride had changed hands over the weekend,
and the new owners were not honoring charters contracted with the previous.
Messy situation, to be resolved who knows when,
but in the meantime,
the landing had stepped up,
and found another boat they could ride.
When they told me which boat it was that messed them over,
I had to laugh.
I have some stories of my own about Apollo.

I said Hi to Westside Wes, and his pal Tall John from Torrance.
Slingin' Steve from the South Bay, with his brother in law, Brian.
Brian's here from No Cal with his son, Andrew.
Novato Rob is here with his son, Austin.
Andrew and Austins' high school aged buddy, Peter, has come along for the ride.
Someone mentions the boys are scouts.
Eagles, in fact
I asked if they give a merit badge for tuna fishing??

I shook hands with Walter and Jorge.
A fine pair of hispanic gentlemen,
they were a bit reluctant as I engaged them.
I made a mental note to myself,
maybe asking someone their country of origin is not politically correct these days.
Maybe Walter and Jorge have been asked that question too many times before,
and are sensitive to it.
I could dig that.

Tall John from Torrance asks me "what's up with the third degree?"
"Do you work for the boat or something?"
I told him no, I'm a player, just like you.
I told him, "I like to start out friendly."

Austin chimed in, "I like that.
I like being friendly."

Introductions flowed across the deck after that.

The last passenger to meet was a firefighter from Arizona.
I said hello to Rodrigo.
"Just call me Rod."
Rodrigo found himself with a couple of days off,
and decided to go fishing.

Our last crewman arrives, a late replacement for somebody.
He says his name is Mathew, but everyone calls him Mud.
I told him I couldn't do that.
He's a San Diego boy, the son of a San Diego boy.
Matt took a shine to me.
Told me my tackle was "sick".
I didn't know if that was good or bad.

He told me he had just taken his history final the day before.
He told me he's a senior in high school, getting ready to graduate.
Today, he's working on the back deck of a sportboat.
I flashed back to my senior year in high school,
and my part time job at Sears in the housewares dept.

Matt and I spent the trip chatting it up.
Him, with his whole life ahead of him, looking forward.
Me, with most of my life behind me, looking back.

Around eleven a.m.,
we took off to take on bait.
It was grey, cool, misty.
It almost rained a little on the ride to the bait barge.
Captain Chuck told us to rig up our gear,
we would be fishing in a few hours.

Noon
We put out some trolling lures.

1:15 p.m.
The boat slows as we enter the zone.
The sky is still grey.
The sea surface is relatively flat, but mixed up, with an occasional white cap here or there.
There are lots of whales in the neighborhood.
Turned out to be probably one of the best weekends of whale watching in my career.

3:00 p.m.
We stopped and tried for them.
Essentially a dress rehearsal so the crew can determine what the passenger skill level is/will be.

4:30 p.m.
Fishing is slow so far.
It's grey, it's damp.
The boat rides low, and in this mixed sea state, it takes on a lot of water.
Over the rail, and thru the scuppers, it's definitely a wet ride today.
Most everyone's boots have been under water at one point or another.
In spite of the conditions, Matt and I agree, any day on the water is a good day.

5:00 p.m. Second call for rehearsal.
When the show doesn't start on time, I go down for a cocktail.

6:00 p.m. First call for dinner.

7:00 p.m. My man, Rodrigo breaks the ice, and puts one on the scoreboard.

8:00 p.m. Sunset. The marine layer is too thick for us to enjoy the predicted "Strawberry" super full moon.

8:30 p.m. After giving the drop shot rig a try one time, I went to bed.

TUESDAY

5:00 a.m. I wake to the smell of Niko cooking bacon.

6:00 a.m. Enjoying my breakfast burrito, I'm a bit dismayed to hear that we've let a couple of tuna escape our grasp this morning.
The sun is out, the sky is blue.
It's a one hundred and eighty degree turnaround from yesterday.
I got a good feeling.
I ask the Lords of Fishing, "Lords, I know you've been very, very, good to me in the past, but if you could find it in your hearts, to gift me a bluefin tuna today,
I will forever be grateful."

7:00 a.m. I tried one time.
There's a bait tank in the bow of this craft.
There's a dip net to catch and hold a sardine.
My hands never get wet, my jacket cuff stays nice and dry.
Me likey.
I'm having a great time up there, so far, fishing all by myself.

8:00 a.m. Nothing yet, but hopes are high.
Just feels a whole lot more fishy today.

8:30 Magic moment number one.
I got one on the forty pound fly line outfit.
Afterwards I said good morning to Captain Chuck.
He was shadowing me during the battle,
trying to help me help myself.
Chuck is liking how this day is starting.

I wasn't the only angler to get one,
and afterwards Matt and Dan gill and gut our catch.
Matt announces to the crowd,
"Joe, you got the yellow jersey (signifying the race leader) right now."
I yelled back to Matt, "Thanks for jinxing me!"

I thanked the Lords for the generosity.
I tell them, I'm not trying to renegotiate or anything.
I know I said I'd be happy with one,
but you know Lords, two would be good too.

I thought for another moment and then turned to Eagle Austin and said,
"we don't have a jackpot on this boat, do we?"
He laughed and said, "You're right. In all the scrambling around yesterday, we forgot to do that."
"Good", I said to Eagle Austin, and then explained to him why I thought a jackpot is a bad thing.
"It puts me in a negative situation where I'm rooting against your success."
"This way, we can root for each other."
The Eagles liked that.

10:30 a.m.
Eagle Austin and his dad enjoy Magic Moment #2.
A bunch of us were clustered up in the bow.
Rob got bit first, and his tuna took him towards the stern.
Austin was caught up in a bad tangle,
and by the time we got things straightened out,
he had a lot of slack line in the water.
Nobody knows when that tuna ate his bait,
but when Austin wound up that slack line,
he found a prize waiting for him.
A prized photo of father and son with their bounty was not far away.

11:30 a.m.
Slow the past hour as the sun takes a dip behind some clouds.

12:30 p.m.
Magic Moment #3.
It's me again.
Thank the Lords again.

3:30 p.m.
We're fishing but I'm sitting.
Walter asks me if I'm resting.
I tell him I've caught my limit.
Somebody asks, "what's the limit?"
Somebody else answers, "two per day."
Walter asks if I'll help him catch his limit.
Austin looks at me, and says maybe he should sit out too.
I shrug my shoulders.
"That's up to you."
Another angler suggests that I hook and hand off to other less fortunate.
I told him and Walter that I didn't think either of those courses of action would be acceptable to a warden or a judge.
But I'm not a judge, or here to judge anyone.
The exchange prompts a philosophical discussion amongst ourselves.
Woulda, shoulda, coulda.
What would you do?
What should you do?
What could you do?
I told Austin, do whatever fits with the code you live by.

5:00 p.m.
Chuck finds a spot and asks Matt to chum up a bite.

5:30 p.m.
Chumming heavily and steadily, Matt gets a bite going.
He and Dan cast sardines and hook tuna for the couple of passengers who have struggled today.
Others fill their limits on steady action of catchable tuna.

7:00 p.m.
Supper's ready.
It's Taco Tuesday.
Combined with the good fishing, a fiesta breaks out.
A feeling of contentment settles over the boat.

7:30 p.m.
Still trying.
The sea is flat.
The breeze is nil.
It's nice out.

8:00 All of Matt's hard work paid off.
We put four or five more tuna into the hold.

WEDNESDAY

5:00 a.m. Niko whispers in my ear, "We're about twenty minutes from San Diego."

Disembarking, I thank Captain Chuck for the wonderful voyage on the little engine that could.
Crewman Dan thanks me for coming.
I don't get that very often.
Mathew and I share a long embrace as we say good-bye.
"Until next time Shooter!"

I do some business with the processor,
turn around and say good-bye to Walter and Jorge, now mis amigos.
I said good-bye to Rodrigo and Tall John and Westside Wes in the parking lot.

7:00 a.m. After breakfast, I stopped by the church of my youth for a short visit to thank the Lords again.

8:00 a.m. When I got back in my truck, Five Star was calling,
"Your order is ready for pick up."

9:00 a.m. Picked up my order, and got the chance to say good-bye to Slingin' Steve, the Eagles and their dads heading back to No Cal.

What a great trip!
I am one lucky SOAB.
Until next time!

El Fin
 
Last edited:

the SLIDER

https://multimediabylj.com
Jun 11, 2015
2,821
8,592
Dana Point
Name
L J
Boat Name
arima - the SLIDER
So what was happening on Tuesday between 4:00-4:19 PM?

SSShhhhhhh. What happens on the "little engine that could" stays on the "little engine that could".

:rofl:
 
Upvote 0

dEDGE

Tuna Slayer
Aug 12, 2018
110
145
Torrance, CA
Name
SteveO
Boat Name
American Angler
I've never been called "Slingin' Steve" before but I kinda like it. We had a great group, thanks to your engaging and cordial personality. I must remember to bring a little notepad (just like you) on my next trip to jot down names so I won't forget the wonderful, colorful fisher-friends I meet. Joe, thanks for your infectious enthusiasm and camaraderie. I hope our paths cross again.
 
Upvote 0

picasso

Member
Jul 27, 2009
628
1,630
los angeles
Name
joe
Boat Name
17 Boston Whaler
I've never been called "Slingin' Steve" before but I kinda like it. We had a great group, thanks to your engaging and cordial personality. I must remember to bring a little notepad (just like you) on my next trip to jot down names so I won't forget the wonderful, colorful fisher-friends I meet. Joe, thanks for your infectious enthusiasm and camaraderie. I hope our paths cross again.
How about Sinker Steve? You hooked a fatty on that dropshot rig. As I told your BIL Brian, you guys were great shipmates.
 
  • Like
Reactions: dEDGE
Upvote 0

vegasandre

I Should Upgrade My Account
Aug 20, 2010
2,137
2,789
San Diego
Name
Andre
Boat Name
Any Boat that I can go on
Thank you again Joe..
Awesome story (as usual)
A lot of life still ahead of you :)
 
  • Love
Reactions: picasso
Upvote 0

vegasandre

I Should Upgrade My Account
Aug 20, 2010
2,137
2,789
San Diego
Name
Andre
Boat Name
Any Boat that I can go on
Started to read this and it sounded ok but jeez, I gave up after page 20!
Yeah man -where are the pictures ?..what were the numbers? LOL
the people who do not appreciate these type stories(reports)= SAD...
I bet they haver never picked up a book since that High school book report was due.
Fishing is not about the fish (though it could be)- it is about the memories.
Thanks again Joe!
 
  • Love
Reactions: picasso
Upvote 0

jiggermyster

Goin' out...
Dec 12, 2003
819
1,502
So Cal
Name
Clay
Boat Name
n/a
I've never been called "Slingin' Steve" before but I kinda like it. We had a great group, thanks to your engaging and cordial personality. I must remember to bring a little notepad (just like you) on my next trip to jot down names so I won't forget the wonderful, colorful fisher-friends I meet. Joe, thanks for your infectious enthusiasm and camaraderie. I hope our paths cross again.
Ah, danm. I was all set to admire @picasso eidetic memory and you let his secret out. <g>
(I've tried doing the notebook thing but I can't remember names long enough to write them down.)
 
  • Like
Reactions: dEDGE and picasso
Upvote 0

Donkey Nick

Member
Jul 16, 2012
369
1,789
Hollywood, CA, USA
Name
Nick Shamrock
Boat Name
Shamrock 246 Walkaround
My scheduled trip on my favorite boat got cancelled at the last minute.
I still wanted to go fishing though,
so I cast myself upon the internet to see what I could catch.
The only thing my search brought up was a single spot on a load of twelve aboard the Voyager out of Seaforth Landing.
I booked it.

That's six more than I was expecting to be fishing with this week,
but half of the number I fished with on the Aztec two weeks ago.

Drove down a day early and got a room near the Big Three Landings.
Took a Sunday afternoon walk along the waterfront to soak up some more of that ambiance.
I took the long walk to the end of the Pt. Loma dock to say "hi",
to Captains Ryan and Jody of the boat, Game Changer,
both of whom are holding paint brushes, instead of fishing rods.
They're STILL finishing up their boat work,
delayed by circumstances beyond their control.
I wished 'em good luck.
They did the same to me.

I picked up an early dinner to go,
and as I'm walking through the parking lot of Pt Loma Seafoods,
a buggy turns the corner.
I recognize Captain Andy Cates of the Red Rooster III as the driver.
Andy pauses a second, scans his memory bank, remembers me,
and in spite of that,
says "hello" anyways.
He even remembered my name.
I thought about our chance encounter as I ate,
and took it to be a good omen.

MONDAY

I got to the landing around nine for a ten a.m. departure.
Check in went smoothly.
No fuel surcharge,
No covid test.
I got bunk number one.
Another good omen???

While waiting to board,
I strike up a conversation with a solo angler headed out on the Polaris Supreme.
As its name implies, it's pretty deluxe.
It offers the creature comforts and amenities of a long range boat,
but in the short range arena.
Parked nearby, the Voyager looks like it's little baby brother.
The little engine that could.
I was still in conversation with that angler,
when a salty looking fellow walked by and said, "Hey Joe".
I said "Hey" back, and "who are you?"
He didn't look at all familiar to me.
He says, "We rode the Royal Star together."
I said, "That had to be like a decade ago."
He says, "Yup."
"And you remember me?"
"You're a memorable guy."

Turns out Salty, real name Mark, is working on the Supreme now.
and takes pride in it.
When I tell him I'm on the little engine that could,
his mood changes.
"Oh, I thought you were with us."
He wished me good luck, so I bid him the same.
I took my encounter with Salty to be another good omen.

About ten minutes later,
Salty comes back and tells me there was a "no show" on their trip today,
and I could probably trade my ticket on the little engine for something on the Supreme.
I told him I truly appreciated the offer,
and that he was looking out for my behalf,
but I was gonna stick with the little engine.
I could tell he was disappointed with my decision,
but he put a smile on his face,
and wished me good luck again.

An announcement on the PA system suggested the Voyager was ready for boarding.
We're so small, there were no cones, no signs, no numerical line ups.
Just a "come on down!"

I was the first to arrive and handed my rods to crewman Dan.
Captain Chuck welcomed me as I stepped aboard.
I stowed my gear in my bunk,
came upstairs and said hello to Niko,
the personable young fellow running the galley this trip.

There was another captain on board.
I heard his voice on the PA,
but I never saw him.
He was working the night shift,
and because I seldom fish the night shift,
our paths never crossed.

As is my custom, I introduced myself to a couple of passengers standing nearby.

I discovered a party of eight makes up the bulk of our group.
They, like me, had been a victim of a last minute cancellation.
Their ride had changed hands over the weekend,
and the new owners were not honoring charters contracted with the previous.
Messy situation, to be resolved who knows when,
but in the meantime,
the landing had stepped up,
and found another boat they could ride.
When they told me which boat it was that messed them over,
I had to laugh.
I have some stories of my own about Apollo.

I said Hi to Westside Wes, and his pal Tall John from Torrance.
Slingin' Steve from the South Bay, with his brother in law, Brian.
Brian's here from No Cal with his son, Andrew.
Novato Rob is here with his son, Austin.
Andrew and Austins' high school aged buddy, Peter, has come along for the ride.
Someone mentions the boys are scouts.
Eagles, in fact
I asked if they give a merit badge for tuna fishing??

I shook hands with Walter and Jorge.
A fine pair of hispanic gentlemen,
they were a bit reluctant as I engaged them.
I made a mental note to myself,
maybe asking someone their country of origin is not politically correct these days.
Maybe Walter and Jorge have been asked that question too many times before,
and are sensitive to it.
I could dig that.

Tall John from Torrance asks me "what's up with the third degree?"
"Do you work for the boat or something?"
I told him no, I'm a player, just like you.
I told him, "I like to start out friendly."

Austin chimed in, "I like that.
I like being friendly."

Introductions flowed across the deck after that.

The last passenger to meet was a firefighter from Arizona.
I said hello to Rodrigo.
"Just call me Rod."
Rodrigo found himself with a couple of days off,
and decided to go fishing.

Our last crewman arrives, a late replacement for somebody.
He says his name is Mathew, but everyone calls him Mud.
I told him I couldn't do that.
He's a San Diego boy, the son of a San Diego boy.
Matt took a shine to me.
Told me my tackle was "sick".
I didn't know if that was good or bad.

He told me he had just taken his history final the day before.
He told me he's a senior in high school, getting ready to graduate.
Today, he's working on the back deck of a sportboat.
I flashed back to my senior year in high school,
and my part time job at Sears in the housewares dept.

Matt and I spent the trip chatting it up.
Him, with his whole life ahead of him, looking forward.
Me, with most of my life behind me, looking back.

Around eleven a.m.,
we took off to take on bait.
It was grey, cool, misty.
It almost rained a little on the ride to the bait barge.
Captain Chuck told us to rig up our gear,
we would be fishing in a few hours.

Noon
We put out some trolling lures.

1:15 p.m.
The boat slows as we enter the zone.
The sky is still grey.
The sea surface is relatively flat, but mixed up, with an occasional white cap here or there.
There are lots of whales in the neighborhood.
Turned out to be probably one of the best weekends of whale watching in my career.

3:00 p.m.
We stopped and tried for them.
Essentially a dress rehearsal so the crew can determine what the passenger skill level is/will be.

4:30 p.m.
Fishing is slow so far.
It's grey, it's damp.
The boat rides low, and in this mixed sea state, it takes on a lot of water.
Over the rail, and thru the scuppers, it's definitely a wet ride today.
Most everyone's boots have been under water at one point or another.
In spite of the conditions, Matt and I agree, any day on the water is a good day.

5:00 p.m. Second call for rehearsal.
When the show doesn't start on time, I go down for a cocktail.

6:00 p.m. First call for dinner.

7:00 p.m. My man, Rodrigo breaks the ice, and puts one on the scoreboard.

8:00 p.m. Sunset. The marine layer is too thick for us to enjoy the predicted "Strawberry" super full moon.

8:30 p.m. After giving the drop shot rig a try one time, I went to bed.

TUESDAY

5:00 a.m. I wake to the smell of Niko cooking bacon.

6:00 a.m. Enjoying my breakfast burrito, I'm a bit dismayed to hear that we've let a couple of tuna escape our grasp this morning.
The sun is out, the sky is blue.
It's a one hundred and eighty degree turnaround from yesterday.
I got a good feeling.
I ask the Lords of Fishing, "Lords, I know you've been very, very, good to me in the past, but if you could find it in your hearts, to gift me a bluefin tuna today,
I will forever be grateful."

7:00 a.m. I tried one time.
There's a bait tank in the bow of this craft.
There's a dip net to catch and hold a sardine.
My hands never get wet, my jacket cuff stays nice and dry.
Me likey.
I'm having a great time up there, so far, fishing all by myself.

8:00 a.m. Nothing yet, but hopes are high.
Just feels a whole lot more fishy today.

8:30 Magic moment number one.
I got one on the forty pound fly line outfit.
Afterwards I said good morning to Captain Chuck.
He was shadowing me during the battle,
trying to help me help myself.
Chuck is liking how this day is starting.

I wasn't the only angler to get one,
and afterwards Matt and Dan gill and gut our catch.
Matt announces to the crowd,
"Joe, you got the yellow jersey (signifying the race leader) right now."
I yelled back to Matt, "Thanks for jinxing me!"

I thanked the Lords for the generosity.
I tell them, I'm not trying to renegotiate or anything.
I know I said I'd be happy with one,
but you know Lords, two would be good too.

I thought for another moment and then turned to Eagle Austin and said,
"we don't have a jackpot on this boat, do we?"
He laughed and said, "You're right. In all the scrambling around yesterday, we forgot to do that."
"Good", I said to Eagle Austin, and then explained to him why I thought a jackpot is a bad thing.
"It puts me in a negative situation where I'm rooting against your success."
"This way, we can root for each other."
The Eagles liked that.

10:30 a.m.
Eagle Austin and his dad enjoy Magic Moment #2.
A bunch of us were clustered up in the bow.
Rob got bit first, and his tuna took him towards the stern.
Austin was caught up in a bad tangle,
and by the time we got things straightened out,
he had a lot of slack line in the water.
Nobody knows when that tuna ate his bait,
but when Austin wound up that slack line,
he found a prize waiting for him.
A prized photo of father and son with their bounty was not far away.

11:30 a.m.
Slow the past hour as the sun takes a dip behind some clouds.

12:30 p.m.
Magic Moment #3.
It's me again.
Thank the Lords again.

3:30 p.m.
We're fishing but I'm sitting.
Walter asks me if I'm resting.
I tell him I've caught my limit.
Somebody asks, "what's the limit?"
Somebody else answers, "two per day."
Walter asks if I'll help him catch his limit.
Austin looks at me, and says maybe he should sit out too.
I shrug my shoulders.
"That's up to you."
Another angler suggests that I hook and hand off to other less fortunate.
I told him and Walter that I didn't think either of those courses of action would be acceptable to a warden or a judge.
But I'm not a judge, or here to judge anyone.
The exchange prompts a philosophical discussion amongst ourselves.
Woulda, shoulda, coulda.
What would you do?
What should you do?
What could you do?
I told Austin, do whatever fits with the code you live by.

5:00 p.m.
Chuck finds a spot and asks Matt to chum up a bite.

5:30 p.m.
Chumming heavily and steadily, Matt gets a bite going.
He and Dan cast sardines and hook tuna for the couple of passengers who have struggled today.
Others fill their limits on steady action of catchable tuna.

7:00 p.m.
Supper's ready.
It's Taco Tuesday.
Combined with the good fishing, a fiesta breaks out.
A feeling of contentment settles over the boat.

7:30 p.m.
Still trying.
The sea is flat.
The breeze is nil.
It's nice out.

8:00 All of Matt's hard work paid off.
We put four or five more tuna into the hold.

WEDNESDAY

5:00 a.m. Niko whispers in my ear, "We're about twenty minutes from San Diego."

Disembarking, I thank Captain Chuck for the wonderful voyage on the little engine that could.
Crewman Dan thanks me for coming.
I don't get that very often.
Mathew and I share a long embrace as we say good-bye.
"Until next time Shooter!"

I do some business with the processor,
turn around and say good-bye to Walter and Jorge, now mis amigos.
I said good-bye to Rodrigo and Tall John and Westside Wes in the parking lot.

7:00 a.m. After breakfast, I stopped by the church of my youth for a short visit to thank the Lords again.

8:00 a.m. When I got back in my truck, Five Star was calling,
"Your order is ready for pick up."

9:00 a.m. Picked up my order, and got the chance to say good-bye to Slingin' Steve, the Eagles and their dads heading back to No Cal.

What a great trip!
I am one lucky SOAB.
Until next time!

El Fin
Solid. Thanks for the great read.
 
  • Like
Reactions: picasso
Upvote 0