Another Salty Sailor Tale From Clive Murray - You will laugh at this one for sure!
In 1995 I entered my fortieth year on this earth. Some of my friends will say I was in a mid-life crisis, others that I was having the time of my life. Thirty years later I look back and have mixed feelings somewhere between embarrassment and extreme joy. There's no denying I've made some dumb choices in my life and topped them off with equally foolish actions, but there's been some wonderful adventures and occasionally (just occasionally) I've made some prudent decisions. One such decision was to buy a sailboat in San Diego, a 30' Catalina which I could use as accommodation whilst in California on business and also improve my sailing experience.
A few months into owning the boat I became acquainted with fellow marina residents Dennis and Barbara Johnson who lived aboard their 32' Pacific Seacraft Pacific Eagle. 'Skipper Dennis' has become a life long friend. He taught me much about boat handling, sail trim and perhaps most of all a thing or two about how to (and how not to) fish. Therein lies a story to be told.
In 1995 the West Coast Yachties monthly free publication was (and I believe still is) Latitude 38. Each year they organise the Baja Haha where boats of all makes and size get together to head south to Cabo San Lucas on the southern tip of the Mexican Baja Coast. Barbara and Dennis had enrolled Pacific Eagle in the event and I was flattered when they asked if I would crew with them to Cabo where on the finale of the Haha I would fly back to San Diego and they would continue south along the Mexican West Coast. I couldn't refuse such an invitation.
There was much preparation for the trip and one item that needed to be addressed was a fishing license for Mexican waters. On hearing this I started to wonder what possibilities there were for landing a fish supper during the trip.
I'd noted a couple of fishing rods on board and a number of spools suitable for dragging a lure. The pushpit on Pacific Eagle had a wooden board across each corner of the guardrail giving a safe area to sit and an ideal place to casually tend to a lure whilst also giving a 360 degree view if you were on watch.
Day two was uneventful lacking wind so we were motoring on a flat sea which calmly rose and fell as the Pacific swell made its way eastwards, so I figured it was time for a spot of fishing. I prepared one of the hand held spools and Skipper Dennis recommended we use a squid look alike lure but whilst we were making 5 knots through the water he predicted it was too fast to be effective. I didn't care I simply wanted something to occupy myself with. The trip was fantastic please don't doubt that but there comes a point in every such voyage when a distraction is welcome.
It was around 12 hours later I notice that we appeared to have hooked a plastic bag so I started to wind the line in. As the end got closer it was apparent we had indeed hooked a fair sized fish. The call went out and Skipper Dennis came to take a look. 'Lift it out of the water and let's identify it before we land it' he advised. On lifting the fish from the water it began to shake and vibrate vigorously trying to get free of the hook. Skipper took one look and said ' drop it back into the water while I get my book'. I was somewhat taken aback, I'd caught a fish and I just wanted it on board stunned filleted and onto the barbecue. A few minutes later went by before Skipper came up the companionway holding a compact but thick book with a title along the lines of 'Fish of the Pacific Coast that a limey Brit might happen to catch'.
As he flicked through the illustrated pages of the book, Skipper asked me to lift the fish out of the water again. I followed the instruction and again it began the vigorous attempt to get off the hook. I was holding the fish above the water line for a short time when finally Skipper declared it to be a Skipjack Tuna and showed me the picture in the book which indeed matched the very fish that had just shook itself free of the line.
The laughter that ensued was tinged with a little frustration on my part as I insisted 'that bloody book' should stay in the cockpit ready to use in future with minimum delay.
The line was relaid and several hours passed, in fact it was the next day, another sizeable fish was on the line. I shouted to Skipper Dennis to be ready with the book though as I lifted the fish from the water it was not required as it was another Skipjack Tuna. 'Great let's get it on board', I eagerly said at which Skipper announced he needed something to kill it with. At the same time Barbara shouted from the saloon, 'I don't want fish scales, blood and innards all over the deck, hold on while I get the baby bath'.
It's an understatement to say I was bewildered by both these declarations. We'd been fishing for close to 48 hours, already lost one fish and only now were we making preparations to land a catch.
I swear it to be the truth and nothing but the truth; Barbara, from somewhere in the limited space of a 32' sailboat, then produced a regular sized plastic baby bath. Baby bath as in a bath of a size that you would bathe a baby, I was amazed at what they had stowed away in preparation for the trip.
At some point during all this mayhem, that fish also escaped. It had been patiently waiting to be landed but had insisted on that vigorous vibration, and got lucky.
It was apparent that in order to fish from Pacific Eagle besides a line and lure a number of additional items were required. A book identifying possible fish we may catch, a hammer to administer a human demise for the catch and a baby bath to ensure no mess was made in the cockpit. Now, at last, we were ready to land a fishy feast.
It was many hours before the lure was taken for the third time and I pulled the line in frantically all the while aware the fish could jump off the hook but happy we had everything in place. Lifting the fish out of the water it was again quickly identified as a Skipjack only this one was half the size of the two we had previously caught. Skipper Dennis suggested we throw it back but to me it was still twice the size of some of the trout I'd landed as a kid. 'No Skipper, this one goes one the Barbie', I declared and an amused Captain's wife agreed. It went in to the baby bath and discussions hovered around how best to prepare the fish for cooking. My initial suggestion was what I'd been shown with the Trout. Head and tail off, gut along the underside and work meat from the bones by running a thumb along the spine. This got a bemused look from both Skipper and Barbara so I quickly followed it up with 'or, leave it on the bone, grill and remove the meat once cooked. This still didn't change the expressions on their faces and Skipper soon said, 'I'll fillet it'. A short time later we had a few chunks of fish that looked like they'd been randomly hewn off the bone with a blunt misfiring chainsaw.
There was no way the Barbie was going to work so these pieces of fish were put into a skillet with a little oil and fried. The disappointment was beyond measure as these hard fought for pieces of fishy sustenance tasted vile and were immediately thrown overboard.
Later that day we joined the rest of the Haha fleet at anchor in Turtle Bay. Our anchor had only been set for an hour when the VHF radio burst out with the following announcement. 'Sunshine has landed a large Yellow Tail Tuna, will trade fish for beer'. (Sunshine was a 30 some foot 1960's Chris Craft aft cabin sloop, the very model I'd considered buying prior to choosing my Catalina) Quick as a flash I grabbed a six pack of beers and jumped into the dinghy. I was alongside just as they started to lay the anchor. One of the Sunshine crew produced what looked like an old fashion cut throat razor and proceeded to skilfully cut a large neat fillet. The trade was completed and on returning to Pacific Eagle I found kipper Dennis with the barbecue already primed and ready to go. It was delicious, quite possibly the best fish I've ever eaten and certainly the freshest.
A day or so later I was alone on watch at 6am without a camera. I witnessed one of the world's true wonders as a super pod of Dolphins leapt and entertained me for around 45 minutes. The boat was surrounded by what seemed to be thousands of Dolphins, certainly it was in the hundreds. I've since seen TV footage of such a super pod narrated by David Attenborough. One beautiful morning on the 1995 Bala Haha as the sun rose over the mountains of the peninsular I experienced something that many may never see. Thanks to Latitude 38, the Haha team and of course Skipper Dennis and Barbara.
Fast forward now three years ....
The phone rang at home in the UK, it was my good friend Skipper Dennis telling me he'd bought a boat in British Columbia and needed crew to sail down to San Diego. I immediately agreed to join him as far as San Francisco. Plans were made to meet at Port Angeles north Washington State on the shore of the Straits of San Juan De Fuca. In a bizarre coincidence just a couple of days prior to my departure from the UK I received an enquiry from a British customer of mine who was working in Chicago asking advice on the possibilities of an inspection and purchase of a 1965 Austin Healey 3000 MkIII currently advertised in Seattle. I was able to meet Skipper Dennis on board the appropriately named Knee Deep, (I'm sure all boat owners will appreciate that choice of name for a 50' self build boat) and facilitate a rental car and picturesque drive to Seattle where I checked out the vehicle, which turned out to be a very nice example, assist on the purchase agreement and then drive back to Port Angeles in time for our departure to San Francisco.
We put in to Neah Bay on the very north west corner of Washington State for fuel and a few extra supplies prior to casting off and rounding Cape Flattery.
I'd always understood the prevailing wind in the Pacific Northwest to be from the North West together with a similar direction of ocean swell. It was not the case as we started to make our way south directly into the wind and resulting sea chop. It was uncomfortable at best and some hours later it got worse. Knee Deep was lifting and slamming into the waves as we motored on, in the hope things would settle down but it didn't. For four very tiring days we battled against wind and waves. I'd recently completed my RYA Ocean Yachtmaster Course and chose to take along a sextant and tables that I might practice and perfect the technique of Celestial Navigation. I'll skip the fine detail to say there were some things I managed and some I didn't. My longitude results had us on interstate 5 all the way down the coast, but my latitude calculations were close enough for me to notice we were approaching Coos Bay Oregon and thankfully Skipper dennis agreed we should take some respite from the beating we'd endured thus far. A call to the Coast Guard advised us there were no dangers on the bar where the river meets the ocean. We entered the estuary and were assisted in mooring along with a group of other Yachties all of whom were seeking the same refuge.
There began seven days of sitting out the southerly winds. We took a taxi to town and went to the movies, a nearby salmon processing plant sold the most delicious dried salmon sticks for a dollar each and at one point I suspect I was starting to smell like Sammy Seal as I noticed an intimidating gang of seagulls stalking me. There were many boat parties, card games and impromptu afternoon drinks with stories on stories of our shared sailing adventures and experiences. It was a fun time. I'd notice a lady at the end of one of the fish piers working filleting fish on a regular looking stainless steel kitchen sink with draining board. Beside her was a barrel full of Skipjack Tuna and a container for the prepared fillets. Water was flowing from a hose pipe that she used to every so often to wash down the working surface and let the innards and trimmings of the fish run into the harbour. The seagulls I'm sure mistook her for Mother Theresa of Coos Bay. A couple of interested passers by had stopped to watch her work. I wandered over thinking I'd get an education on fish filleting, I had not anticipated a light bulb moment. As I approached I heard her say, 'Now you have to beware of this belly flesh as it is very oily and tastes rancid'. Whoah, I had a flashback to the day before Turtle Bay on the Bala Haha it was indeed an education. The conundrum of why our Skipjack tasted so nasty was finally put to rest. Skipper Dennis just needed a sharper knife and little enlightenment.
FYI; The gentleman in Chicago who bought the Austin Healey flew out to Seattle and drove the car back without incident until he was a half mile away from his home and the car broke a half shaft.
A few days after the southerlies had eased we entered San Francisco Bay going under Golden Gate Bridge at 3am. Another terrific experience to add to my life list, thanks to Skipper Dennis.
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