Sunday, September 13, 2009

This column is dedicated to the recreational fisherperson who wants to have a good time, get the boat wet, spend time with friends and family, and maybe catch a couple fish.

Last week, my buddy, Jeff from Orlando, came to visit me and do some fishing. Jeff and I went through our graduate programs together, and we worked side-by-side as a "study team" on class presentations for two years. Near the end of the program, I wound up having a pretty horrible medical operation. The recovery was lengthy and painful. On more than one occasion, Jeff actually carried me up the stairs to class. Because of his help, I completed the program on time and graduated with the rest of my class. We have remained friends ever since.

I guess you could say that Jeff is my hero. Not because he helped me through such a tough time, but because he has more girlfriends -- gorgeous girlfriends -- than I have fish stories. He is also one of the luckiest fishermen I have ever met. Jeff's visits to the Florida Keys have always resulted in fabulous weather, and incredible fishing. I've never seen it fail. I sometimes wonder if he thinks it is so easy all the time. One time, he and his dad came down and we caught so many mahi-mahi that the two of them pleaded to put the rods down and go back to the dock. We motored away from a voracious school of dolphins, but only after catching our limit, and Jeff and his dad had a cooler full of fresh, delectable Florida Keys dolphin fish to filet.

This trip was no different. We had his visit planned for almost a month. During that time the weather reports were iffy at best. But as the time neared, the weather forecasts kept getting better and better. By the time he and his friend, Lloyd, got here, the wind was 10 knots from the south with two-foot seas. Both of our schedules had changed for the busier and we knew we only had a one-day window to fish. I had to make it count. I was under pressure. Lloyd repeated every detail of every fishing trip Jeff had been on with me. In fact, one year, during a blackfin tuna fishing extravaganza, I had stood at the helm and counted down from three to zero, at which time the tunas hit both trolled lines right on cue. I think I had done that twice, but Lloyd said that number had grown to 10 or so.

Shortly after their arrival, Jeff, Lloyd and I drove up to the Whale Harbor seafood buffet, a traditional requirement of all his visits. The ride was punctuated with incredibly lively fishing stories and predictions for tomorrow's angling. Lloyd fell right in line with us and even enjoyed, and joined in, our conversation and ruminations about our school experience. Neither man slept that night in anticipation of the upcoming fishing. I didn't sleep either; I was truly looking forward to spending time on the water with these guys.

Just after first light, we fired up the EP2 and headed for open water. We passed the outer marker at Sister's Creek and throttled up to high cruising speed. The snarling of the Mercury outboard only added to the excitement and anticipation. We trolled through some diving birds at 200 feet, but did not raise any fish. We ran out to a big weedline at 400 feet and trolled a figure-eight for a while with no results. At 550 feet, some small birds were cartwheeling at the surface. We trolled through them and then stopped the boat and cast some chunks of squid and ballyhoo on spinning gear. My heart sank when Jeff and Lloyd both looked at me and said, "It doesn't matter if we get skunked, C.J. We're just glad to be here." "Skunked?" I thought to myself. The EP2 never gets skunked. And, what's more, the EP2 always registers a senseless slaughter when Jeff's aboard.

Trying not to let fear and apprehension show on my face, we pulled the lines, headed for bigger water, and made a beeline to the Marathon Hump. And then, it happened. We ran two trolling lines with black and red feathers 300 feet behind the boat. I purposely ran only two lines because we only had two anglers. We trolled under a flock of yammering birds and when the feathers passed under them both lines went off. "Woo hoo," Jeff yelled to Lloyd, "This is what I'm talking about." Two big blackfins came aboard. Tuna need to be bled and put on ice immediately. I had already prepared my guests as to what to do. "You guys take care of those two fish and I'll come around on them again," I barked.

By the time the fish were properly in the box, we were passing over the school of active tuna again. Once more, both lines screeched off the reels and stout rods bent, groaning under the pressure. Jeff and Lloyd are both big muscular guys but the blackfins were taking their toll on them. After three successful passes, I told them both to relax while we came around on the school again. I had the exact spot marked on the GPS. The boat passed the spot and I knew we were 300 feet from another crashing double-hookup. "OK, get ready," I shouted over the motor and screeching bird sounds, "Three, two, one, come on, big fish." And, just like that, both lines started zinging that fabulous "big-fish-on" sound.

"I love this guy." Lloyd yelled.

"I told you." Jeff yelled back.

And, that's the way it went for the next hour. The pressure was off. The legend lives on, and I am sure will grow with each reiteration. Friends of mine have heard the stories of Jeff's visits, and although they don't remember his name, they will ask me, "How'd your visit with your lucky friend go?" "It was another senseless slaughter." I smirk. There is a big outdoor party planned in the near future at Lloyd's house and invited guests are already preparing for a sushi, sashimi and pan-seared tuna extravaganza. How do I top this next year? No problem. After all, lucky Jeff -- my hero -- will be here. I'm already looking forward to it. And, as always, life is good in the Florida Keys, life is very good in the Florida Keys.

C.J. Geotis is a life-long fisherman who followed his dream to live in the Florida Keys over eight years ago. He lives in Marathon with his wife, Loretta. His e-mail is fishstories@bellsouth.net