COZUMEL EXCITEMENT ON THE ROLLING SEAS

 From Rick Fowler

    Santiago , the main character in Hemingway’s THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA, displayed pride and honor during his brutal battle with the giant Marlin he had hooked, and the sharks who eventually steal his prey. Though I first read this book over three decades ago, I now can relate to the Cuban fisherman who was in such awe of both the fish caught and those predators who ravaged it.

    Getting a reliable and successful deep-sea charter can sometimes be a hit or miss adventure with misses outnumbering hits in my experience. However, on a recent trip to Cozumel , Mexico , my fourteen-year-old son and me the fifty two-year-old dad along with two others were lucky enough to draw a boat and a crew who knew exactly what they were doing.

    Through a hospitality guide at a Cozumel resort, we connected with the Captain and his first mate Miguel for an 8:00 a.m. Friday morning departure. Since everything is laid back in this section of the world, we did not anticipate being on the ocean until at least thirty minutes later. True to form the 30-foot Jiano pulled up to the pier about 8:20 .

    After brief introductions we headed out for our half -day excursion. Our destination was only a half-mile offshore, but a ten mile run to reach the fishing grounds near a lighthouse, was an hours ride. The seas were rolling the entire time, 10-12 footers buffeting us as if the boat was a mere toy. My thoughts were how are we going to troll in water this angry? Needless to say, Miguel began preparing the five Penn rods and trophy reels.

    The first hour was nondescript. Idle chatter and some lure questions of Miguel passed the time easily enough.  The captain and his first mate shared tales, backed up by pictures, of yellow tails, barracuda, leopard grouper and an occasional halibut. From the rather rare sierra to ladyfish, the two-man crew of the Jiano knew the off shore and near shore waters and its inhabitants  extensively.

    As we made a turn, Miguel suddenly ran to the stern, grabbed one of the port reels and said, “Let’s go Senor. You’ve got yourself a bull of a White Marlin to battle with!” He was right. When the rod was placed in my hands I felt an excitement about fishing that hadn’t been there for a long time, especially after feeling the pressure on the other end. Then suddenly this graceful fish flew upward and started to tail dance on the roiling waters.  As I began my quest to bring it in my eyes were continually scouring the stern waiting for one last dance from this ‘Bull’. “Senor, you need to keep lifting up and reeling down. We could lose him”. Miguel kept me on task as the marlin refused to give in to the constant tension I tried to keep on him.

    After a twenty-minute battle, I’m not so sure, which of us had consumed more energy. With a last reel and tug I got the big fish close enough to the boat that Miguel and I could lift him carefully without a gaff. What a magnificent creature marlins are. They are sleek with markings that give them their own quality of beauty. This particular male was almost six feet in length and would weigh in at around 125-130 pounds. After a couple of high fives and some quick pictures we returned him to the sea, tired, but free to do battle another day.

    Within minutes Miguel was racing toward the stern again, this time lifting one of the starboard reels. It was a friend’s turn in the fighting chair this time and he soon realized he also had a fight on his hands. The rod kept dipping and Mike kept cranking till he too realized that this wasn’t like salmon fishing in Michigan . With Miguel shouting words of encouragement Mike maneuvered the fish close enough to see what it was. A Mai Mai and when we finally got it aboard we realized this was one upset Mai Mai. He thrashed around so much and so violently we made our sons move towards the bow to avoid the melee. After settling down, Mike and his son Hayden proudly displayed the second catch of the day.  The fish would weigh in at forty pounds and would be on a restaurants menu that night.

    As if on cue the waters suddenly boiled behind us again about 100 yards out and Miguel was racing again. This time my fourteen-year-old son was in the chair and soon knew those after school weight lifting sessions were going to be beneficial. We didn’t quite know what had struck, but from the sounds of Miguel’s shouting it was something big.

    “Senor, it's a Wahoo. A horse of a Wahoo! You might have to help your son bring this pig of a Wahoo in. It’s huge senor!” Thus it was, a father and son tag team wrestled with a 90-100 pound, extremely angry Wahoo who did not want to see the interior of our boat. I assisted Eric with pulling the rod back up but he did all the cranking. It went on this way for about 10 minutes, when we heard the excited voice of Miguel start bellowing again. However, this time it seemed angrier then any time before. He delivered a string of expletives which might have made George Carlin blush and pointed to something off of the stern. Captain Juan idled the twin engines down and the deck hand encouraged Eric to, “reel, reel!” To my surprise, the weight on the other end seemed to diminish as he brought the fish closer to the stern by himself now. Miguel readied the gaff and then asked, “Are you ready to see what’s left of your fish Senor?” Left of… What did he mean by that? 

Miguel swung the gaff over the gunwale and into the massive jaw of the Wahoo we had just done battle with. As he brought the fish over the side he presented it to Eric, all 2 feet of it. Miguel’s earlier shouting had been directed at a shark, who, after seeing the hooked Wahoo thrashing about, tore up from the depths and had himself a quick and easy meal. The look on our faces after viewing what a shark can do to a5 foot Wahoo probably was classic: open-mouthed, gaping and questioning. Miguel said, “Big shark! That’s what I was yelling at. He attacked the Wahoo, that’s what made me mad. Quite the fun hey Senor?” 

Who could argue with that statement?  By far this excursion onto the ocean was the most active trip I’ve ever encountered. The memories we captured as a father, as a son, as friends, and as crew members, will last. One day on the water can do that!

 By Rick Fowler

callie@racc2000.com