Aventuras De Viaje

On our very first day after arriving in Marathon, we took the dogs for a short walk to check out our new digs. An older couple was walking so a little convo was initiated, you know, “How long have you been here?” “Where are you from?” I was directed to enquire as to the best place to buy fresh fish. The answer, “About 5 miles out” in the ocean. Clever and it made me laugh, but the older gentleman then said his wife doesn’t like going out to fish and then, in the same breath, offered up a couple of promising spots to buy grouper and snapper. We walked on and that was that…or was it? You see, I am an introvert, so going up and talking to random strangers is really hard, but there is “Florida Blake” and he will talk to anyone, ask anything and has a bit more How not to give f*ck attitude. But we had exploring to do and they were walking too slowly and the moment passed.

Later, through the window, we saw him out again and it turns out this fellow and his wife were our new neighbours, and that picture above is his boat. Conjecture enued that night as to the names of these two (guesses included Bob and Carol, Tom and Mary Ed and Phyllis, Steven and Nancy). Feel free to vote now.

Later that day, we stopped at a bait and tackle shop to fish off our walkway as our other neighbour across the canal waterway has a green nightlight that shines and you can see schools of fish who tease us with their white flaky meat within a cast’s length. I bought a rod and coming out of the shop two rather large, mostly unwashed, monster truck driving dudes passed by and said, with more than a hint of unveiled sarcasm, “You cath a big one with that”, to which I responded, “Yeah, probably going to catch them all. No need for you to even go in that bait shop.” Our pole is still a virgin 3 days later, but not for lack of trying.

So I couldn’t wait to tell our neighbour I was indeed going to fish, but quite selfishly, and with entirely one thought in my head, “I hope he asks us out on the boat.” A few hours later, there he was. I told him about our new purchase, and sure enough he said, “So you wanna go out on my boat?” “Absolutely, when?” I shot back. “How about tomorrow? he said, “Depending on the weather.” “Done.” I said and asked his name. It was George. And his wife is Jean. no one won.

It was pretty breezy when we got up, with winds blowing at about 15 mph, but the day looked sunny and once I saw George packing the boat, I knew our 3 hr cruise was going to set sail. Whether our Cap’t Gilligan lookalike could get out and back in the MInnow was another story. When George said the boat was bought used about 18 yrs ago, I must admit some trepidation. When he started the motor and said, “Well, that’s a good start.” I must admit it grew still. But out we went and though the seas were swollen with some 3 and 5 ft waves which rocked our crew, the Minnow wasn’t going to be lost by George.

Les caught the first fish, a too small yellow tail, although at 11 inches, if I had just stepped on it, it would have met the 12″ threshold to keep. Fish 2 and 3 came for Lisa and Les, as did 4 and 5, all yellowtails and over 12″ and George had had enoough with my new pole, and traded me out for one of his. Not surpisingly, I immediately caught a porgie worth keeping.

George is like the sailor in The Old Man and The Sea, few words, but they were wise, and an absolute magician on the boat. Need a hook ’cause a big fish hooked got taken by a bigger fish and George had a new one on before you knew it. Need a weight on your line, his arthritic but deft fingers had it on and you were casting again faster than a Grady DIck catch and shoot. When my Australian Akubra hat went flying and overboard for the second time, George wasn’t making a fuss. I conisidered jumping in to save it. I mean, our friends brought it back from Australia when we still lived in England and I loved that thing, but as I waited for George to maybe put the boat in reverse, he simply said, “That’s still floating.” I wanted to cry out, “Wilson! I’m sorry. I’m sorry Wilson,” but I really felt like I needed to be a man in front of George, so I mirrored his silence.

Many readers wrote in complaining about my caption. Apparently, they felt my caption somehow missed a more interesting point of the photo, and maybe the reason my sister-in-law took the action shot, which is Leslie fighting and eventually bringing in the biggest fish of the day, which was a bit redundant becuase I had caught a similar fish, which at the time, was the biggest fish of the day, so I really don’t understand the hubub.

When I caught my big fish and then Les minutes behind me catching the bigger one, George actually couldn’t identify them, despite fishing the Gulf for 37 years. When we got back to shore, he cleaned them and then gave me the apprentice job of cutting the middle red bits out, which again, was sort an homage to the wise sage teaching the young buck a thing or two about being a real man. We threw the less desireable bits to the pelicans who amazingly knew exactly what we were doing.

We gave him and Jean some of our catch (he only wanted enough for the night) and then I had to wash down the whole boat. If you know me, and you do since you’re reading this, I loved the washing down part. It’s that sense of accompishment that comes from seeing the problem, tackling it, and then seeing the result immediately that is so different from is typically done in the business world. Plus, even as a little kid, I would get in the kitchen at my Grandma’s house and help with the washing up. I got lots of praise for doing it since none of the men did it back in those days, and I do thrive on a bit of plaudits. I believe they’re called ‘words of admiration” in the Five Love Languages, which according to most of the guys I know, is also the thing that once wives know what your love language is, they intentionally withhold it as a measn of weilding even more incredible power than they already do.

This story ended not with bunch of folks stuck on a desert island, but rather some lucky folks around a kitchen island, enjoying frshly caught fish grilled and pan-fried.