AS SEEN IN THE JAN/FEB 2006 ISSUE 

I constantly hear people remark how awesome it must be to be a full-time charter captain. Granted, it does have its moments. But any professional captain will tell it’s not always a bowl of cherries without pits. Looking back, yes, I’ve had hundreds of successful trips during my long career, but don’t think for a second there haven’t been a few mishaps along the way. This one has to take the cake.

It was the dead of winter and I was scheduled to meet a couple of guys for a day of offshore fishing. I keep my boat on a trailer for the versatility factor of being able to go where I need to, so I have to arrive at the boat ramp at 6:00am sharp to be ready for my clients at 7:00. This day started like so many before. I pulled into the marina right on time and went right to work preparing to launch the boat. Patiently waiting my turn, I finally got to the task of backing down the ramp. That’s when the first catastrophe happened. For no reason whatsoever, I’m half way down the ramp and the brakes on the trailer decide to completely lock up. I tried everything I could and a half hour later was still stuck in the exact same spot. I could clearly see the long line of boaters waiting for me to get the heck out of their way because they all had their head lights shining directly at me. For the first time in my life I actually felt like the one who was in the spotlight. I could also clearly hear their snide remarks.

Fearing for my life, I decided to put the truck in low gear and literally drag the trailer out of the way so I could work on the problem in the parking lot where I felt a little safer. Luckily, I stumbled across a piece of discarded 2x4, and with the help of my trusty fillet knife, fashioned a wedge which I proceeded to jam into the breaking system in the hopes of disabling the ‘freeze’. Eager to see if I was successful in my attempt, I jumped back in the truck and popped it in reverse. It worked!

Now under even more pressure due to time constraints, I quickly back all the way down the ramp. This is exactly when I looked in my rear view mirror and realized my boat was drifting away. In my hurriedness, I completely forgot to secure any dock lines. Now feeling like a complete idiot in front of a small crowd, I instinctively run to the end of the dock and literally leap through the air toward the boat. I almost made it, only about thirty feet short of landing right in the helm.

For those of you who might not know, I can tell you that it’s pretty darn difficult swimming after a 32 ft. center console in chilly water while wearing jeans and a heavy sweat shirt. But that was easy compared to getting the boat off the seawall it drifted into before I could reach it. Back at the ramp, my customers finally showed up and asked why I was soaking wet. I told them I was netting bait. I recall one of the guys questioning if I always leave my truck and trailer backed in at the ramp when I go net bait. I replied that every professional has their own unique way of doing things.

By now, any sane captain would have realized the day wasn’t meant to be and called off the trip, but no, not me. I changed into dry rain gear before finally parking the truck and situating my customers on the boat. As we shoved off I yelled "Who wants to go fishing?" 

Like excited first grade students the two of them jumped up in their seats and responded "I do! I do!" I pointed to all the other boats and said you may want to hop aboard one of those because we only go catching on this boat! I didn’t know it at the time, but that little remark sealed my fate.

It was close to 30 miles to our first grouper spot. With less than two miles to go before reaching our intended destination, the lower unit on the port outboard decides to take a dump. This happened to me twice before so I was able to quickly identify the problem. I asked the guys if they wanted to continue or turn back. They asked how fast the boat could go on only one motor and after I responded about 8 to 10 knots, they unanimously voted to head back to port. I turned the boat around and started our three hour trek back to the dock. I felt an uneasy calm, but was confident nothing else could possibly go wrong.

To break up the somber atmosphere, I thought it would be a good idea to troll a few baits. Maybe we could salvage something out of this trip. In minutes, a clicker screamed as the port rod bent over. “Fish On!” One of the guys screamed! A second later, I heard a disappointing, OH NO! from the remaining angler as he cried out in laughter. I looked back and couldn’t believe my eyes. I quickly realized we had actually hooked a damn pelican. I know you’re not going to believe this, but evidentially the thing nose-dived right on our bait. If that wasn’t bad enough, ever time we tried to reel the darn thing in, our new feathered friend kept submerging. Last thing I wanted now was a dead pelican’s blood on my hands, so it took all of 30 minutes to finally, and safely land and release the bird. For those of you who are interested, the pelican was about 20 pounds, ate a rigged ballyhoo behind a pink Sea Witch on an 80 lb. leader, and the water temperature was 65 degrees with 2 ft. seas.

Having caught their fill, the guys decided we should give up on the trolling idea and just enjoy the rest of the trip back to port. On the way, I overheard them muttering “Oh yea, this is some fish catching boat!” The annoying remarks got on my nerves so bad that at one point, I almost announced the trip would be free. Luckily I came to my senses before I blurted that out. My wife would have killed me.

With the dock in sight and now close to five hours after my morning swim, I felt relieved that this nightmare was about to finally come to an end. Thankfully safe and sound on dry land, I asked the guys if they wanted to book another trip. They said that I should keep listening to the weather forecasts, and as soon as HELL FREEZES OVER to give them a call.

The moment I got home I put a call into the mechanic and explained what had happened. He said that if I bring the boat in the next day or two he could have me back on the water in less than a week. Now that I think about it, I guess that trip wasn’t all that bad. I mean I’ve had much worse, like the time a giant 300 pound goliath grouper actually swallowed my...well, that’s whole other story.

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