July 13, 2021 – (Sea) Sick Days Fishing – Atlantic Ocean

Calm start but the swells were waiting.

You may have already noted that I try to keep it honest here.  I share the skunks, the tumbles, and the other foibles, and those who read this and fish with me hopefully find little embellishment between the stories I tell and the experience they actually have with me.  My deceased father and I prided ourselves in never lying to each other about fishing, so that must have trickled down.  I have been around boats and fishing offshore and inshore since I was in maybe 7^th grade.  I spent a couple weeks each summer in elementary and middle school with my buddy Jimmy W. and his family because his dad had a 30-foot Chris Craft that we used take out for inshore fluking and trolling for blues.  When the house was full, Jimmy, his brother Al, and I even slept on the boat at the marina!  My buddy Benny’s stepdad was an offshore angler with swords and a record wahoo mounted on his basement walls.  Ward had a 27-foot center console, and we fished off of that for a decade, I guess.  And all that time, I have had to roll the dice with sea sickness.  I have done the overnight chunk for tuna and felt like a million bucks, fished the Cape May rips in 20 knots and snot and felt fine, and then other days, well…  Yesterday was one of those other days, a literal sick day of fishing.  I held my own between bouts of heaves, and may have even caught 4 of our 8 keeper fluke (one of those may have been Ward’s neice Emma’s though!).  But I was sick for most of the time and unable to shake it, which is not common.  I told Ward, who’s been witness to me (and my father—another family trait) being green way too often, that this was top 5 in my long career, maybe top 2!

Big buckies and stinger hooks.

We sailed with the Adam Bomb out of Cape May after 6 AM, trying to catch the end of the moving tide and trying to beat the forecasted south winds of 15 knots.  It was slow going into the 4-5 foot swells, also out of the south, so the 20 mile run took forever.  I was fine for most of it, but by the time we stopped and Adam had rigged the rods with 5 and 6 ounce bucktails and bellies, I was hanging over the side.  Sometimes that is it, and once the fishing begins, I am good.  Our first drop was great too!  With the tide still moving but the wind not pushing us too fast, we made a few productive drifts that ended with keepers for at least three of us.  The Ward party was Joe, Cousin Brucey, niece Emma (a ringer), Ward, and me.  Adam thought that by 11 AM, it was going to be much more difficult to fish, and he was right.  Fishing got tough as the morning and early afternoon progressed—harder to hold bottom even with 6 oz. bucktails, lines scoping out for many yards, so many missed hooksets for the less experienced, and so on.  Me, I would be good for a drift or two, and then have to sit out for another one or two.  I was in disbelief that this had not passed.  I tried to eat and drink, and nope.  Joe offered Dramamine, but that ship had sailed long ago—that is something I should have thought about on Monday night!

Dinner for all at least.

There was some fun before and after and even during, but the day for me was dominated by not feeling good.  I love to jig up the fluke and sea bass, too!  I guess there is a reason I am a surf and fly fisherman.  I have even owned a couple small boats, and I still prefer terra firma.  I am glad we got out, though.  The trip was cancelled twice in the last three years due to weather, and I couldn’t make it last year because of work schedule issues, I think.  Ward said that Adam was even offering an out today when he knew the forecast, but they decided to go anyway because it would be fishable enough early.  Ward was only down for the week on vacation too, and a make-up day this week was not possible with other bookings, so off we sailed.  It was not the kind of conditions to allow us to fish deliberately over nasty structure to entice a doormat or two, but enough keepers (plus two sea bass) pursued the flying fluke bellies and spearing to make a dinner for all.  Many shorts were landed too.  I still have a touch, even when I am working with 47% of my normal faculties, so I definitely was happy with the number of fish I landed, but it was not easy.  I started feeling normal again as we reentered the harbor, of course, and a cold Coke at the bar made it feel possible to drive home.  Not many pics, as my phone was tucked away for most of the trip and my mind was elsewhere, perhaps in survival mode when not fishing!  Time to check the medicine cabinet for Dramamine?