The Hand Line

When we started our cruising lives two years ago, Scott read how handy a "Cuban yoyo" was to have on the boat.  Fishing chandleries down the east coast, however, could not help him, looking at him quizzically each time he inquired about one.  Turns out, "cuban yoyo" is just another term for a hand line, and is pretty much the most basic form of fishing there is.  The setup is brilliantly cheap, simple, and ideal for a sailboat with minimal space.  It consists of 300-400 feet of 40 pound test fishing line wrapped around a six inch plastic spool equipped with a hook and sinker.  Islanders the world over have mastered the art of fishing by hand and many cruisers actually prefer yoyo's to complex and expensive rods and reels common for trolling.

We caught our very first fish ever with the hand line, but it's sat idle ever since.  The other night, however, Scott dropped the line in with a simple little shrimp hook and immediately pulled out two snapper for dinner, one after another, with out the slightest bit of effort.

Looks like we're going to be using this little hand line a lot more from here on out.

Making the Transition from Fishing to Catching?

Our passage from the Bahamas Banks to Frazer's Hog Cay in the Berry Islands will now forever be known as "the day of catching".  It is no secret that Scott and I are poor anglers at best.  Sure we caught that one dorado, and we've landed bunches of barracuda (because they go for anything), but other than that, we don't have much of a repertoire of success.  We can count the number of fish we've caught on two hands.  I mean, we took my brother deep sea fishing and came back with zilch.  Eight hours on a deep sea fishing boat and nada.  That's pretty pathetic.

Becoming more adequate at fishing is one of several goals we have this time around.  As such, I bought Scott "The Cruiser's Handbook of Fishing" for Christmas which is rumored to be some sort of fishing bible for those in "the know".  We shall see.  It is clearly not the book to fumble through when you find you have a fish on the line (as we did) and it seems a little more "hard core" than we need (there is ample detail on how to make a "live bait well"... in your sailboat) but, hey, we'll give it a go.

As we crossed the banks Scott got a hankering for some fish so he tossed in a line.  I can't recall how much time passed before we heard the telltale "ZzzzzZZZZZzzzzzzz" of a fish on the line, but boy was it exciting when it did.  Our hearts started thumping and we sprang into action.  Scott to the back of the boat and the rod, me to the helm.  Reduce speed.  Furl sails.  Set autopilot.  Grab camera.  Start snapping pics.  Where's the baby? (just kidding, she was napping).  Man, fishing is quite the production when you actually catch stuff.

Unfortunately, the first fish was a barracuda which is a "no-no" to eat in this part of the world due to the prevalence of the ciguatera toxin here in the Bahamas.  Oh well.  We didn't want to bring him on board anyway.  He looked suuuuuper mean with his sharp, snapping teeth so we let him go and let him take one of our spoons with him.  Good riddance.

The next go, I wanted to pick the lure.  I took my responsibility seriously - much like Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade - and suffice it to say I chose wisely...  A little blue squid.  It looked nice enough.  Scott rigged it up and just before he tossed in the line I remembered, "Oh, wait!  I have to spit on it! I read somewhere that it's good luck".   Well, I must have some pretty powerful spit because no sooner had that lure touched the water when the line started running out.  We reeled in a decent sized skipjack which was super fun until he made the aft deck of our boat look like a scene straight out of Dexter.  Blood. Was. Everywhere.  Not pretty.  We were very grateful for our aft deck shower.

We threw in the line once more and an hour or two later we reeled in what we think was some sort of makerel.  Unfortunately, being that we are not good anglers (see first paragraph), we did not have a net (this has been remedied) and when we had him hanging by the line about to bring in the boat, he got free.  Truth be told, I think Scott and I were both secretly happy we didn't have to clean up another blood bath.  Filleting is another skill we must improve if we are going to ramp up our fishing.  They kind of go hand in hand.

So now we shall move forth with even more vigor!  We still have a ton to learn about fishing, but we've got the gear, the patience and the bellies for it so, as they say, "game on".

Mean barracuda.  We did not want him on the boat.

Here you can see about one tenth of the blood bath. 

Pretty fish, unfortunately it's considered only a mediocre eating fish.  Whatever.  We ate him anyway!

The one that got away...sigh.

Reel Big

Uncle Al arrived yesterday to visit for the week and he arrived bearing gifts.  Not only did he bring us a bunch of great wine and food prepared by Aunt Willa to enjoy for Thanksgiving, but he gifted us two beautiful fishing rods.  His very generous son, Brandon, used to operate a charter fishing boat in Hilton Head and has since moved on to a new business endeavor   As such, he has some incredible fishing rods that are not being used at the moment and he thought they'd get more use by us.  For those of you who know fishing rods and reels, you know that this particular one is an incredibly generous gift.  Apparently, we can reel in a 500 lb marlin with this setup.  What we would do with a 500 lb marlin, I have no clue, but the possibility of actually catching one exists which kind of scares the hell out of me.  I'm not too worried about that however because our fishing history is not so great.   We'd be perfectly happy bringing in a mahi mahi now and then or a little tuna here and there.  Maybe just maybe this monster rod will be the harbinger of change for us and bring us better luck. Here's hoping!  We are so grateful for their generosity, Scott was like a kid in a candy store this morning imagining reeling in fish and eating fresh sushi.

Today isn't only about big reels, but big change as well! We're moving onto the boat!  As comfortable as I have gotten in our little one bedroom apartment, it's time to move on.  We are so excited to move into our new home and get settled!

Fishing vs. Catching

He who loves fishing more than my brother is a rare man, sorry Kevy!

I guess they don't call it 'catching' for a reason...
Despite high spirits and slightly inflated expectations (my brother was hoping to join the "Grander" club by catching a 1,000lb marlin), we went out on a professional fishing boat yesterday for eight (count that, eight) hours and have nothing to show for it besides slightly better tans and a distinct diesel odor in our clothes.  We were very unlucky. We had seven lines out the entire time and used every type of lure from Ballyhoos to Squids to Skirts and got...nothin'.  I've personally seen this fishing boat bring in a 600 lb marlin (and he has caught and released a bunch of others), hundreds of mahi mahi, loads of wahoo and more.  The fish just weren't biting on this day.  Was it due to a cold front that blew through?  Did it have to do with the current?  Was it the recent wind shift?  Or did we break some unspoken fishing code that exists out there in the Universe and curse ourselves (there *was* talk of the "black cloud" that has been following my brother this year in his fishing exploits)? We'll never know.

We did get two hits from sailfish though, which offered a little excitement to the day. Someone said it best when they described the sport of fishing as "Bobbing around on the water bored stiff for hours on end when all of a sudden, all hell breaks loose."

Despite the lack of 'action', we had a great day on the water with some great folks.  Like they say, a bad day on the water still beats a good day at the office!  Despite this, Scott and I will stick to sailing, that is for sure!

Fish Tales

Fishing. When we began our trip we had dreams of all the fresh fish we would eat. Tuna, mahi, grouper, snapper...the bounty of the sea would sustain us. We would drop a lure in the water, fish would bite it, we’d reel them in, slap them on the grill and enjoy a free feast from the sea. We laughed that we’d get sick of fish...dreamed of the gazillions of ways to cook fish.  We bought the filet knife, the cutting board, the net, the gaff, the gloves... Lures and poles were donated to us as gifts. We were ready to slay the beasts of the sea.

At least, that’s what we thought.

Unfortunately, that is not the reality.

The last notable fish we caught (and ate) was the mahi mahi we got back in the Bahamas, which seems a lifetime ago. This is not for lack of trying, mind you. We throw a line out pretty much every day. We try all sorts of lures from the cedar plug to the squid to the skirt. At anchor Scott even throws out the cuban yoyo. You know what we have caught in the last two months?

Nada. Zip. Zilch.

Well, except for seaweed, that is. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to hear the tell-tale vvvvvvvvzzzzzzzzzzzzz of the line only to reel in a chunk of seaweed? Once - no big deal. But when it happens over, and over, and over again, you might just look up at the sky, lure in hand, shake your fists at the sky and cry “Whyyyyyyyyy???!!!!”. You get a little loopy.

We’re beginning to think we are doing something wrong.

Do you have any idea how complicated fishing can be?! Do you have any idea how many lures there are?  Jigs, skirts, plugs, spoons, flies and squids...there are swimmers, divers, and surface trollers...And that’s just the beginning! Go into a fishing store and prepare to have your mind blown. Gone are the days where you rigged your Snoopy pole with an earthworm on a hook and pulled out a perch. Nope. Nowadays you actually need to put on a "ballyhoo" with a "skirt" (at least that is what one angler swears by) to get a nibble. Who would have thought that the best lure to catch a fish is another (fake) fish wearing a skirt?! Crazy.

Don’t get me wrong - we have caught a mahi, a skipjack, a tunney, a spanish mackerel and a barracuda - but if we were playing baseball, we’d be in the tee-ball league. Our batting average is that low. We get bites too. The other day Scott reeled in the cedar plug and pulled a tooth out of the dang thing. A teeny tiny sharp-as-a-knife tooth. From a fish. Imbedded in the plug like a splinter. All of our lures, in fact, have the tell-tale dings and gashes of a fish bite - we just haven’t hooked them. So we keep throwing lines back out...

I read somewhere that a woman’s spit on a lure is good luck, so Scott just tossed out the cedar plug with a wad of my saliva on it. How appetizing. Can’t wait to see what we catch...

Love,

Brittany & Scott

Post Script:  My spit did not work.  Sigh.

Magic of the Dorado

There is no fish that quite stirs up the soul - or the tummy- to me like the Mahi Mahi...known also as Dorado or Dolphin Fish (but less so, as it is often confused with Flipper) they are truly proof positive that the ocean is full of magic and mystery.  These fish cruise the worlds oceans en masse; they are the fastest fish in the water and seafaring wanderers throughout time have been graced with the presence of these fish in the farthest reaches of the ocean.  They are smart, fast, strong, curious, and very intelligent.  I don't know what it is, but there is truly something about the Mahi that illustrates a higher level of being...there is a wisdom in these fish that you just don't see in many others... but enough of the poetic mumbo jumbo...

We caught our first last week when we were passing on the "outside" from Allen's Cay to Norman's.  Despite the wind blowing 20-22 out of the east (making for a VERY bumpy ride) we decided to brave the ocean side and troll.

"I'm catching you a mahi mahi today" Scott proclaimed.

He rigged his offshore rod (thanks Brandon!) with a simple $11 cedar plug and out it went.  We knew enough to know to troll in deeper water, so we motor-sailed along the ridge where the water was about 200 feet.  We were cruising along at about 6 - 6.5 knots in a 4 foot swell and wind gusting to 25.  Not ideal.  I think I might have said something to Scott to the tune of "You had BETTER catch a mahi for this!".

No sooner had I said that when we heard the telltale whizzzzzzzzzzz of the line being taken out to sea.  Hearts started racing.

I was at the helm, slowed the boat and rolled in the jib as Scott got his fishing gloves on and prepared to reel in our catch.

After about 15 minutes of reeling in, we saw it jump magnificently out of the water.  It was electric blue, and I mean electric blue.  It was still too far away to tell, but for a second we thought we had caught a shark!  Scott continued to reel our fish in when he jumped again.  And then we knew - it was a mahi mahi. This time, though, he was bright yellow and vibrant green.  I couldn't stop saying how beautiful he was - he honestly took my breath away.

Scott continued to fight the fish until he was by the boat.  He was changing all the colors of a mood ring,  his emotions and his vigor showing through his scales.  Amazing.  We reeled him in, I grabbed the net* and the grain alcohol, poured some down his throat and we brought him on deck.

And then, almost instantly, all his color went away.  Just like that.  Gone.  Like his soul left him in that one final flash of a rainbow.  Incredible.

The sea was bucking and rearing so we got to safe harbor and Scott immediately got to filleting with what have now become known as "surgeon hands".

That beautiful fish fed six of us for 2 days.  We wasted nothing, and thanked him for what he gave us.  Nature surely does provide when you are in the right element.

Someone's happy.  This was taken once we were safely anchored.

*We now know you do not "net" a 45-50lb mahi mahi, you gaff it.  We learned this when his razor-like fins cut right on through our net.  Whoopsie.

FISH ON!

Scott and I are cut from the same cloth when it comes to "diving in head first".  Sure, what we dive into might be different, but we both go about our passions with vigor.  Take fishing for example.  Though he has never been a 'fisherman' per se, Scott has always known that a life at sea would not be the same if one cannot enjoy it's bounty.

So he started fishing.  And then he became obsessed with fishing and the associated gear.

Every land excursion led us to a fishing store for lures, line and tips.  My brother and Scott's god-cousin(?) bestowed up on us rods and reels.  Nearly every day he tried to troll - to no avail.  He was getting frustrated.

We were a little sad to kill him.

Scott had read early on about the "cuban yoyo"* and asked fishing stores down the entire east coast if they had them.  No one seemed to know what the heck Scott was talking about until we got to Florida when he finally got one.  A "yoyo" is a simple hand line wrapped around a giant spool.  It is the most rudimentary of fishing gear, but - so far - the only one to bring anything in for us.

It happened the other night.  Scott had put the "reel" around a winch with a little shrimp lure on it.  We retired to the cabin - he took a snooze, I was reading by my head lamp.  Night was settling in.  

All of a sudden we heard a loud dragging sound on deck, jarring us from our peace.  We looked at each other - listened some more - looked at each other again - when finally Scott jumped up and said, "fish on!".

Sure enough, we caught a fish.  A beautiful skip jack at that.

...but he was good eating!

Taking a life is not easy, in fact - I really want no part of it.  When those fish look up at you with panting gills and big shiny eyes, it literally hurts my soul.  We were going to throw him back because neither of us were hungry and we have no refrigerator to keep him fresh.  But then we saw the hook...waaaaay down his throat.  And it was go time.  He was a goner.

I got the grain alcohol out and poured it down it's throat, and he quickly gave up his fight.  I got sad, Scott got sad - but we realized that we are just part of the circle of life.

And then Scott got to work filleting.

Boy was that fish good.

* Apparently they are also called just a "yoyo" as our friend, Brian, learned when he went into a fishing store and asked a clearly Cuban lad for one, which he replied a little snarky, "You mean, a yo-yo?"  Guess they don't need to be Cuban after all.