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 rally 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 trolling 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 fishing line 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 on 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 Skipper 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 where 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 the rental 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 they didn't. For four very tiring
days we battled against wind and waves. I'd recently completed my Royal
Yachting Association 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 a mile or so upstream 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 every so often to wash down the working surface and let
the innards and trimmings of the fish run into the harbour. It was a scene
from a Hitchcock movie and the seagulls I'm sure believed this lady to be
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. A lightening bolt of
realisation hit me as I approached and 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 a 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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