MEXICO BEACH, FL — Deep Sea Fishing.
Deep sea fishing was on my proverbial Bucket List.
Thanks to Southbound Charters from the Mexico Beach Marina in the Florida Panhandle, I drew a big black Sharpie line across that item yesterday.
Captain Ryan Kelly and deck crew, Cleve, helped make my deep sea dreams come true.
I can’t say enough good things about them and recommend them highly.
But this is my blog and the main focus is me and my neurosis so —
We met Ryan and Cleve on the dock at 6 a.m. CST.
Which is the last time I urinated for about 12 hours.
My oldest son’s dear girlfriend had been worrying about how we were going to use the bathroom. I was like they’ve got to have a bathroom on board. And thought nothing more of it.
Pretty cavalier from a woman who empties her bladder at 15 minute intervals.
First thing that hits my mind upon seeing our boat.
A great boat for fishing, fishing and more fishing. Not such a great boat for urinating in private.
I made note to save my cup from the convenience store coffee I had bought 40 minutes earlier.
No, my greatest fear was not how I was going to empty my 9-month-pregnant bladder or even how I was going to survive being eaten by sharks when our boat capsized — but being incapacitated by nausea.
So I took plenty of Bonine the night before and morning of. Yes, I might die of a bursting bladder but I was not going to vomit.
Johnny getting ready for the day.
Heading out to that big, beautiful sea. If I look sort of drugged. I was. Bronine. Note cup that was saved as my mini toilet.
It was a calm day.
THANK GOD.
And it was beautiful.
Took this thinking — might be my last view of the shoreline. Ever.
Where to begin?
I can’t begin in one spot. My day’s memories are all jumbled together in one large deep sea, indigo mosh pit.
First of all I caught a red snapper.
But this guy got thrown back in the sea. Why?
Because of governmental regulations. Now you can only keep red snapper five days of the year. Not sure what those five days are — but we weren’t fishing during them.
We caught a bunch of red snapper. We threw them back to copulate and populate the seas for those five days.
What we could keep was red grouper.
Groupers are bottom dwellers.
Kind of like the old Garth Brooks song — I got friends in low places.
That’s the grouper’s life. Friends in low places.
Ryan would look at his computer for a blip on the bottom and that’s where we’d drop the lines.
Armed with a weight the size of a healthy plum, down our lines would go, falling the equivalent of a 22-story building.
And son-of-a-gun, in all that blue, in all that water — our hooks and our bait met up with some red grouper.
Kristin with a huge grouper. Ryan, our captain, in background.
One of my keepers.
I caught groupers, red snapper, a shark — which was fun for me and a nuisance for Cleve — and we even thought a porpoise had my line at one point.
My Jake with a Kingfish,
WHAT is down there?
Okay. After I realized I wasn’t going to get sick, I had a ball.
Looking down into that water wondering what Little Mermaid world was alive down there? What fish might I hook?
Jellyfish pulsating by. A sea turtle. The dolphins. I still found them thrilling though Ryan and Cleve thought them a buzzkill.
The smell of souring fish. The smell of salt — of the water. Of my sweat.
Not that I am one to believe spirits that travel on and on through time in our bodies, but there must have been a seafarer in my genetics. Being on the water rubbed a deep, happy spot in my being. Like scratching a dog in just the right spot. How his eyes roll back in his head and he isn’t thinking about a thing, except how great life is at this very moment.
Jake caught a Mahi Mahi. I got to see it shimmering all colorful just under the surface.
After a full day in the sun and catching fish, some of my crew were plumb (or plum) tuckered out.
Crashed on the bean bags for the hour and a half ride into the marina.
Even as wore out as I was — pulling those babies up from the bottom with my grannie belt — I had to stay awake.
I sat on the cooler and stared out at that awesome display, thinking how many times do you get to be here? Fifty-five miles out in the Gulf heading for shore.
The three horses heading for the barn.
I could tell you about the flying fish I saw. Following their flight wondering when they would dip into the water.
I could tell you about the shark, waving and bending its sleek body this way-and-that under the boat, hoping for a quick meal.
I could tell you about the how the sun looks as a starburst deep into the water.
Ah phooey.
Ryan and Cleve cleaning our dinner.
Alls I can say is that it was a great day.
A great day indeed.
Would you head 55 miles out in the Gulf for dinner?
[…] 9. I did get rather a good arm workout on Wednesday deep sea fishing. […]
I would LOVE to head out into the gulf for my dinner. That Red Snapper was actually quite pretty. I had already planned the dinner menu around it before I got to the part where you had to throw it back! Bummer.
My current dream is to load up my hubby and head west for some fly fishing sometime in the next year or so. I am heartened to see how delighted you look with your catches. I really, really want to cast and reel in, but I was secretly hoping there would never be an actual fish on the end in case I might freak out!
We used to have red snapper all the time growing. It is very good. We grilled the grouper and it was soooooo good. I’ll have to post on that. And my dad became a fly fisherman later in life. He worked and worked. Work was his life. But flyfishing finally crept in there. It was his only hobby but he loved it.