A Special Fishing Trip
Welcome! My wife and I are in the process of selling our home-away-from-home, which is a lovely beach-front condo in a northern suburb of San Diego. In previous posts you can find out how and why we decided to sell it as well as Patty’s favorite memory at the property after 12 years. This post is a follow-up to the most recent one in which I identified my favorite experience, and which was the time I went deep-sea fishing with my life-long pal, Ed. In that post you will find out why Ed means so much to me. Now we are going to discuss the special fishing trip itself.
Albacore fishing out of San Diego is the ultimate experience in the San Diego area. One reason is that the Pacific’s water temperature has to be just right or the prized tuna won’t even come within reach; and that only happens once every four years or so. As you guessed, our great fishing trip was right in the middle of one of the best albacore runs in recent history. Ed had never been albacore fishing before. I had gone about a dozen times. But Ed loved fishing and I knew if things went just right, this would prove to be the highlight of all his fishing experiences.
My preferred boat for this purpose is commonly found in an area know as Fisherman’s Landing. It is called the Pacific Queen. It holds about 50 fishermen and has some VERY SMALL cabins for sleeping during the long rides to and from the fishing grounds. Most of the other boats pack all of their patrons into a large bunk room below deck, and that makes it difficult to get any sleep. The owner of the Queen was Mr Makewin. I never actually met him. On some occasions, the Queen would offer "limited party" trips in which only 24 fishers were allowed. These were much better becasue there was more room and the crew could give each man more time and attention. The price was higer, coming in at about $200 per person for a 36-hour thrill. Our trip was indeed one of those limited party days.
Ed and I got on board about 8:00 one evening. The picture above was taken on the deck of the Queen just before we took off. While everybody was busy settling in and registering, the boat eased its way out into the bait tank area and picked up hundreds of pounds of frisky anchovies, which are usually the bait of choice for the prized tuna. That accomplished, we began the all-night trek to the fishing grounds. Before taking up bunks the fishers tend to chat a bit and I was surprised to learn that Mr. Makewin had recently sold the boat.
Welcome! My wife and I are in the process of selling our home-away-from-home, which is a lovely beach-front condo in a northern suburb of San Diego. In previous posts you can find out how and why we decided to sell it as well as Patty’s favorite memory at the property after 12 years. This post is a follow-up to the most recent one in which I identified my favorite experience, and which was the time I went deep-sea fishing with my life-long pal, Ed. In that post you will find out why Ed means so much to me. Now we are going to discuss the special fishing trip itself.
Albacore fishing out of San Diego is the ultimate experience in the San Diego area. One reason is that the Pacific’s water temperature has to be just right or the prized tuna won’t even come within reach; and that only happens once every four years or so. As you guessed, our great fishing trip was right in the middle of one of the best albacore runs in recent history. Ed had never been albacore fishing before. I had gone about a dozen times. But Ed loved fishing and I knew if things went just right, this would prove to be the highlight of all his fishing experiences.
My preferred boat for this purpose is commonly found in an area know as Fisherman’s Landing. It is called the Pacific Queen. It holds about 50 fishermen and has some VERY SMALL cabins for sleeping during the long rides to and from the fishing grounds. Most of the other boats pack all of their patrons into a large bunk room below deck, and that makes it difficult to get any sleep. The owner of the Queen was Mr Makewin. I never actually met him. On some occasions, the Queen would offer "limited party" trips in which only 24 fishers were allowed. These were much better becasue there was more room and the crew could give each man more time and attention. The price was higer, coming in at about $200 per person for a 36-hour thrill. Our trip was indeed one of those limited party days.
Ed and I got on board about 8:00 one evening. The picture above was taken on the deck of the Queen just before we took off. While everybody was busy settling in and registering, the boat eased its way out into the bait tank area and picked up hundreds of pounds of frisky anchovies, which are usually the bait of choice for the prized tuna. That accomplished, we began the all-night trek to the fishing grounds. Before taking up bunks the fishers tend to chat a bit and I was surprised to learn that Mr. Makewin had recently sold the boat.
The Queen is big and only moves along at about 12 knots or 10 miles per hour. It runs on diesel fuel and the scent of the fuel is fairly noticeable. That might make it difficult for some people to sleep, but the rocking of the boat as it navigates it way, is so soothing I never had any problem dropping off.
The boats in the fleet have incredible navigational equipment and can return to the precise spot where the albacore were last known to be, but that is not a foolproof system because the elusive sports fish tend to follow water currents around and those are somewhat unpredictable. This particular trip the school of fish was so large, said to be in the hundreds of thousands, that the captain had no problem finding them.
The boat’s motors shut down about 6:00 a.m. and everybody knew we arrived. The captain got on the microphone and told us his equipment revealed that there were many thousands of 30 pound fish, just below the boat. He knew chaos would be the song of the day so he needed to establish some ground rules. We jumped out of our bunks in nervous excitement and noticed the smell of fried bacon and fresh coffee had overtaken the usual whiff of diesel fuel. We gathered round the galley area and learned important safety issues and certain procedures like how to get those frisky anchovies out of the bait tank and onto a hook.
To the inexperienced fishers the "announcement" ritual is a bit nerve racking because it seems like the fish might get away, but it you think about it, where are they going to go? Besides, if they do migrate a bit the boat has fish finders and can usually remain adrift right on top of them. Before long, there was nothing left to do but go fishing. My great friend and I joined all of the others.
When an albacore takes your anchovy it is one of the most exhilarating experience you can imagine. The big fish takes a deep, deep dive and the line peels off your reel so fast that it hums. You worry that you are going to run out of line and the fish might pull you overboard. But the crew members are quick to help less-experienced fishermen and they tell you exactly when to set the hook and how to slow the powerful tuna down. When the big fish strikes, someone yells "Hook up" and everyone knows they are biting.
It was just a matter of minutes before the first fish was hooked. "Hook up" And then somebody else caught one, "Hook up" then another and another and another "Hook up, Hook up, Hook up." Twelve to fifteen guys had a fish on the line, all at the same time. It was enough to make a fellow drool.
One fish would go left and another one would go deep while still another would go right and yet another was very close to the boat. The crew members have to work like crazy to help everybody avoid getting their lines all tangled up with each other. Sometimes they just couldn’t do it and several lines would join together into such a tangled mess that all the lines had to be cut and everybody had to start over and get new hooks and anchovies.
Most of the action is at the stern, the back of the boat. I was within that group and landed a couple of the prey. That sounds rather insignificant, but those fish are big and powerful. It takes a lot of effort and time to get any one of them to the boat and then on board. My arms were burning from the wrestling matches. Ed took a position at the front of the boat where there were only a couple of fishers, so I only saw him a couple of times. Since there were so many fish to be had I assumed he was doing just fine.
Meanwhile, somebody new was constantly yelling "Hook up." The crew helped the beginners and let the better fishermen fend for themselves. "Hook up" over and over again. Each guy landing all of the powerful gamefish his poor arms could manage. For the next hour or so, there were so many 30 pound fish that the only guys who weren’t hooked up were the ones in the bathroom or galley or taking a break or the ones tying on new hooks.
After nearly 2 hours, the deck was cluttered with dozens of flopping fish. Blood was everywhere and the deck was slippery because of it. Fishermen were stepping all over each other as the boat rocked up and down with the sea waves. Finally, the crew had to shut everybody down to clean up the mess. They dropped many dozens of fish through hatches in the deck to be processed later. Then they cleaned the deck for another assault. Meanwhile, an exhausted group of fishers grabbed a quick breakfast and compared stories.
Naturally, I sought out Ed to see how he was doing. He told me I was crazy for spending so much time at the stern with all of the other fellows. I responded by explaining to him that is where the action usually is. Then he hit me with a surprise. There was an old-timer up on the bow with him who was personally coaching him and they had landed more fish than I had, and without all the craziness. His coach was Mr. Makewin, the former owner of the boat. Imagine that!
While all the rest of us were trying to figure out how to catch tuna on the stern, Ed was fishing with the most respected man in the entire fishing fleets of San Diego. If Ed had to pay for Mr Makewin’s personal coaching, he could not have afforded it. As it worked out Mr. Makewin, was granted some free trips on his former boat out of respect and this was one of those times. I cannot imagine a better way to introduce my life-long buddy to the wonderful and crazy world of albacore fishing.
Natrurally, everybody caught their limit of the 30-pound deep-diving tuna and the crew even took a few extra fish back to give to their own friends and family as well as a facility that provides for seniors. We caught so many fish we didn’t know what to do with them all so we just started throwing them back. Everybody caught their fill and wore out their arms. What an incredible experience.
On the way home we compared notes, ate albacore and complimented the crew. I especially enjoyed talking with Mr. Makewin and my buddy Ed. The memory of that special trip is branded into the back of my head and I will savor it forever because my very dear friend Ed died just a few months later. While we were on that trip, we had no idea that Ed had cancer. Naturally, Ed’s death hurt me quite a bit. As I mentioned in my previous post, I really loved Ed.
This story offers us a fine example of why we need to appreciate the special people in our lives. This wonderful time with Ed lends me a reason to celebrate. I cannot imagine a better way to say good-bye to my pal of 40 years.
And, that is why albacore fishing with Ed is my favorite experience from our years in the San Diego area.
After nearly 2 hours, the deck was cluttered with dozens of flopping fish. Blood was everywhere and the deck was slippery because of it. Fishermen were stepping all over each other as the boat rocked up and down with the sea waves. Finally, the crew had to shut everybody down to clean up the mess. They dropped many dozens of fish through hatches in the deck to be processed later. Then they cleaned the deck for another assault. Meanwhile, an exhausted group of fishers grabbed a quick breakfast and compared stories.
Naturally, I sought out Ed to see how he was doing. He told me I was crazy for spending so much time at the stern with all of the other fellows. I responded by explaining to him that is where the action usually is. Then he hit me with a surprise. There was an old-timer up on the bow with him who was personally coaching him and they had landed more fish than I had, and without all the craziness. His coach was Mr. Makewin, the former owner of the boat. Imagine that!
While all the rest of us were trying to figure out how to catch tuna on the stern, Ed was fishing with the most respected man in the entire fishing fleets of San Diego. If Ed had to pay for Mr Makewin’s personal coaching, he could not have afforded it. As it worked out Mr. Makewin, was granted some free trips on his former boat out of respect and this was one of those times. I cannot imagine a better way to introduce my life-long buddy to the wonderful and crazy world of albacore fishing.
Natrurally, everybody caught their limit of the 30-pound deep-diving tuna and the crew even took a few extra fish back to give to their own friends and family as well as a facility that provides for seniors. We caught so many fish we didn’t know what to do with them all so we just started throwing them back. Everybody caught their fill and wore out their arms. What an incredible experience.
On the way home we compared notes, ate albacore and complimented the crew. I especially enjoyed talking with Mr. Makewin and my buddy Ed. The memory of that special trip is branded into the back of my head and I will savor it forever because my very dear friend Ed died just a few months later. While we were on that trip, we had no idea that Ed had cancer. Naturally, Ed’s death hurt me quite a bit. As I mentioned in my previous post, I really loved Ed.
This story offers us a fine example of why we need to appreciate the special people in our lives. This wonderful time with Ed lends me a reason to celebrate. I cannot imagine a better way to say good-bye to my pal of 40 years.
And, that is why albacore fishing with Ed is my favorite experience from our years in the San Diego area.
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