Fishing Offshore and Why it’s Good for the Soul
It’s a little dangerous, yes, but the saying goes “without risk, there is no reward” – author unknown. Adventuring out into the ocean builds trust with your crew, teaches you to respect nature, provides perspective, and rewards you not only with fish but with wisdom and reflection. Like the life of a Farmer, off-shore fishing is an early-to-rise and late-to-finish type of effort that requires a half cup of coffee and half a cup of courage- that courage is usually required for the rough sea days. Fishing off-shore is a form of food gathering whether that be for income or to provide for our family and friends. Fishing off-shore is good for the Soul and this is why it builds character, it draws you close to nature and it helps you reflect and appreciate life.
After many years of begging my friend, Chris Cargo, to let me go fishing with him, the stars finally aligned for me on December 28th, 2016 when I received a text message asking if I would like to fish on the Wailele Jam, a 26’ Salt Water boat used for commercial fishing. I remember getting the feeling like I won the lottery, I had been waiting for an opportunity like this for over a decade and I for one wasn’t going to mess this up. What I recall from my first experience will give you a better visual, so like a steaming hot cup of cocoa with marshmallows, sip these words slowly.
After waking up at 2 am, an hour drive west put me in the center of the Waianae Boat Harbor, the place we would eventually launch the boat from. I was a little aw struck watching Chris and our other friend Chris Tejada prepare the boat, their movements almost synchronized as they passed gear and carefully placed each pole, container, and gear. There were a lot of moving parts and checks that needed to be made before we departed, and like Santa Clause, the list was checked not once, but twice. We launched the boat into the water, and where machine entered nature there was a sweet smell of ocean infused with the exhaust of the 220-horsepower diesel motor powering the vessel. Once we washed the trailer with fresh water, we park Cargo’s Ford F-250 Superduty in the most advantageous spot to our advantage when we return. I always say a little prayer to the man upstairs every time I enter the water, and, on this day, I asked for wisdom.
With the removal of the stern line and a shove, we were off on a cloudless morning off the west side of Oahu, smooth seas until we were no longer afforded the shelter of the island blocking the wind. Everyone in the islands knows that the winter months bring gigantic surf to our north-facing shorelines and on this particular day mother nature showed up in full force. With 15’ to 20’ seas and 20-25 knot winds, it was like the Hawaii version of that Discovery Channel show “Deadliest Catch” but with a better view. The seas didn’t worry me as much as my two crew members saying to each other “we don’t belong out here”. Aside from the reckless bouncing caused by the action in the ocean, I familiarized myself with the boat and tried to figure out what everything piece of fishing gear did. We troll approximately 2 hours in a flux of rain, wind, and waves and upon reaching the C/O Fishing Aggregate Device (FAD) approximately 17-20 miles off-shore we observed about 150 birds swooping from left to right moving south and headed for them.
Shortly after catching up with the birds there was a sudden jolt from the outriggers, extension poles that keep your lures further away from the sides of the boat, and then you hear the ratchet on the Shimano reels sound off like someone using an electric grinder to peel open a rock. We catch between 2 and 5 fish at a time all of which are 25-30-pound Aku or Big Aku otherwise known as “Otaru”. Sticking with this pile for almost three hours this day was like baptism by fire for me. I was also unprepared for this Journey, wearing only surf shorts and a windbreaker jacket, it caused some of the meanest chaffings I’ve ever experienced in every direction. As I recall what we all must have looked like on the deck working those fish, it had to be one of the greatest examples I’d experienced by watching these “artist” perform their craft. We caught Forty-One Otaru and a 47 Pound Mahi-Mahi that day, we might have stayed and caught more but we were short on ice on this day. We made it back safely to wash the boat, transfer the fish from the boat to the truck and head to the fist block to sell our fish. That first night coming home around 920pm I was both pleased, exhausted but blessed with wisdom.
Character building starts the night before, preparing your fishing gear, lures, hooks, poles, checking the boat equipment, GPS, Rudder, Prop, Safety Gear, Emergency Position Indicator Relay Beacon, Sensors Outriggers and Trailer, we also make sure we pick up 1000 pounds of ice and fuel the boat up, usually 350 dollars’ worth of Diesel. The day usually starts at 230am, someone gets lunch while the other 2 set up the boat and prepare to launch the boat at He’e’ia Kea Pier in Kaneohe. It is both a mental and moral decision to ensure these items are buttoned up, failure to follow a strict regimen could be costly, costing us the boat or even our lives. Once all the checks are completed, we launch and set out into cloak of darkness.
Like the slow return of a bowling ball, you are eased into the current and immersed by nature. In the dark still quiet of the early morning we launch the boat and tie down any loose gear and prepare for the seas ahead as we trek into deeper water. Small and Large waves pitch the bow of the boat up and down as we head east, sloshing water in every direction. In the morning the water particularly, stings like someone throwing five-hundred toothpicks at you, it’s not just the spray but it’s the temperature of the water that bites the hardest. The humid salt air coats your face like a blow dryer without heat. The unpredictable action of the boat exercises your core as you attempt to equalize the rocking of the boat. You find your hands are often grasping a handrail, ladder or cooler while standing and the soreness reminds you that it’s a necessary evil that must be endured. As the night stars begin to lose their twinkle, light vignette’s the stragglers or birds on the horizon of night and day. The bird’s pace to keep up with our boat, some making their way north, using the wind to their advantage, lifting and diving clumsily while chasing our lures. The sun appears on the horizon, and at that moment, we sit quietly, everything seems to stop, we don’t even hear a sound, not the diesel motor nor the water splashing on the hull, we’re just focused on the sun, unobstructed from buildings, land or life. Darkness fades to purple, to violet then blue, lighter into an orange-red, pink to orange until the daylight the sun has eclipsed emerges painting a line of the earth’s curvature of the earth just before it peels off the ocean and trickles into the clouds bringing the first joy of nature for the day.
Most times if you’re wise enough to make the 2-hour journey to one of the FADs before sunrise you may get rewarded with the first catch of the day, and it’s always a good feeling when you know you haven’t whitewashed. We determine our direction of travel based on the weather, temperature of the water and behavior of the birds- how they fly, using the wisdom that was passed down to us from our ancestors. While trolling or playing the waiting game we observe changes in the weather, wind, and rain, heat and beautiful color changes in the water, reflections of the sky, rubbish, marine life embedded with rubbish, waste created by humans. Usually large pieces of rubbish i.e. baskets, cans, nets, logs, etc. attract fish like Mahi-mahi and Ono who is known to stay near the larger piles of rubbish. We’re also blessed many times over with visits from marine life like Whale Sharks, Humpback Whales, and Dolphins. Nature has a way of smothering you on both ends of the spectrum fair and harsh, but we are wise to respect her.
Fishermen reflect from beginning to end appreciating the wisdom the day has brought. First off, we all want to go home when we are done fishing, but, we’re never truly home until we step foot back on land. As we are out there in high seas or inclement weather often the “what can go wrong” scenarios run through your mind and you begin to exercise in your mind what actions you will take in any given scenario. These could include getting hooked by your gear, speared by Marlin if it jumps in the boat, falling off the boat, the boat capsizing and engine failure. You begin to realize how to mitigate as best as possible by planning and exercising your responses at least quarterly. I find myself often thinking of my wife and daughter and the families of those I fish with, I share a common concern for them to return home safely as well. I begin to recall memories of my daughter’s childhood and memories my wife and I have shared, I smile and exhale in appreciation. I often struggle with feeling selfish for fishing when I’m going to miss some important family event, and I usually always obligate myself to make it up to them. This reflection brings wisdom that can be appreciated by all in similar situations.
Second, the actual part of reflecting on the ride home, entails each fish you reel in, how big or small, you start to draw up the recipe’s in your mind of how you’d prepare the fish. You reflect on the action from the moment the reel sounded, rushing to the reel to take the strain, knowing that the captain is hands-on at the bridge, your deckhand is removing lines to give you room to fight the fish. Your heart races like a piston in a mustang, as you crank on the reel. The reel and pole toss and turn as the fish put’s up a fight, and as it is drawn in closer, colors start to appear 30 to 40 feet beneath the boat, flashes of silver litter your eyes, you know it’s only seconds before that fish is in the boat. You and the deckhand hand-line the fish closer until it’s near gaff distance, and kaboom the gaff is in, the fish lands in the boat and we hi-five in excitement screaming to the top of our lung in celebration. These moments play over and over throughout the day, but we also reflect on the unlucky times we’ve lost fish at the boat, they either spit the hook out or the line breaks. Failure and Success go hand in hand adding value to our lives and teaching us how to be better each time.
Lastly, when looking back on the land whether it’s 15 miles or 50 miles out, we appreciate the view and think about how beautiful and serene the view is and how far we are from land. You imagine what goes through an explorer’s mind when they see something like land after being at sea for so long. If you’ve ever flown in the window seat of a plane and peered out to see land or where the ocean meets the land, you know what I’m talking about. The view’s you see upon returning home never, ever, get old. The beauty of the landscape painted under perfect skies filled with billowing clouds is breathtaking, to say the least. From afar life appears in the form of cars on the highways, the cars look like a colony of ants following a trail to their nest. You begin to appreciate the value in life and are always humbled to realize how small we are.
Fishing off-shore is good for the Soul and this is why it builds character, it draws you close to nature and it helps you reflect and appreciate life. The Journey on the ocean is more about you dealing with the elements and paying attention to your surroundings then it is actually about fishing and this is what build’s character. Persevering through the weather, and experiencing the cold, the hot, the unpredictable splash from the sea spray and swells, witnessing marine life and the correlation of the birds flight behavior and location of fish and viewing the land from afar immerses you into the breath of nature in a semi-organic way. The time spent on the sea is long, time used for reflection of what’s truly important to you in between the actual act of fishing, you begin to appreciate the blessings of life, the life you’ve made and lives of those who depend on you. Do you think off-shore fishing has been good for my Soul?
