A Family (fishing) Affair

Once a year, typically around mid-June, my family takes a day-long trip on a chartered fishing boat. We usually reserve The Snow Goose, out of Port Chester, NY or The Helen III, out of Groton, CT. Over some time, we've had our good, great, and so-so days, but our 2013 trip aboard The Helen III was truly one for the family photo album AND the record book. Throughout that clear summer day, the fishing was consistently productive, as the phrase, "Fish on!" was shouted repeatedly; sometimes even simultaneously, by many of us. At some points, a few of us had to stow our poles and alternate as the "hold my beer guy" for whomever was hooked into a fish. Fortunately, during that time, the Striped Bass were abundant and HUNGRY.

Later that afternoon, just prior to the bellowing foghorn which signals the return trip to port, a small group began to gather around my cousin, Teddy, who was in a trolling chair at the stern (rear) of the 45 foot vessel, with his fishing rod bent like a question mark. As the sounds of laughter and expletives grew, so did the number of onlookers; Teddy had hooked into something big. For the next fifteen minutes, we watched as he leveraged the rod and cranked steadily at the reel, shortening the distance between himself and whatever was on the other end, by inches at a time. Our glances alternated back and fourth, like tennis spectators, between Teddy and the decreasingly distant point where the line met the water, waiting for our first glimpse of the fish. Finally, as our anticipation peaked, a glimmering silver behemoth broke the choppy surface; then immediately dove back beneath it. We roared at the spectacle and cheered Teddy on, with a newfound sense of immediacy amongst us. He grimaced as he reeled, crank by crank, while adjusting his grip on the rod. Time and time again, the gaping jaws of the fish would surface, then disappear. Teddy is a strong guy, but this battle was weighing heavier on his endurance, with each passing moment. Still, he knew this was potentially the catch of a lifetime, and would do whatever it took to land the fish. He fought with might, eventually pulling the fish close enough for the first-mate to yell, "Net!!"

We cleared a path, stood back and cringed as the fish jerked back and fourth, narrowly dodging the ovular opening of the outstretched net, time and time again. Leaning over the boat's metal safety rail, reading the pattern of the waves, the first-mate maneuvered the net's opening directly below the jowls of the fish and secured it in place; the deal was closed. As he brought the beast onboard, everybody was in awe. It was a massive Striped Bass, weighing in excess of sixty-pounds, which is substantial for the species.

As fatigued as Teddy was from the (24 minute) ordeal, he immediately raised his catch in a celebration of victory, as the rest of us cheered and snapped photos; one which made the cover of The Fisherman magazine, New England Edition, shown below. Some people (obviously out of envy) actually commented online, claiming the image was Photoshopped. They Wish!

It was a fantastic fish finale of what will go down in family history as a memorable event that punctuated an iconic excursion. It's also another example of how fishing lifts spirits and brings people together. Of course, all credit goes to Teddy for his accomplishment, but the beauty of the catch is how connected and united we all were while he was achieving it. 

Still, he'd better enjoy the feeling while it lasts—because next year I'm going to best him, for sure. Watch out, Teddy!