The Kokomo Report

The only interesting thing that happened was watching the Black Whale turn at the 139 buoy. He was coming back from Atlantic City and made his turn well before the 139 buoy. There's a sandbar about 100 yards south of the buoy that's only visible during low tide. It was close to low tide and I thought for sure the Black Whale was going to run aground since he came so close to the sandbar but he didn't. I was also surprised he made his turn before the buoy since technically the green buoy should have been on his starboard side. Obviously, whoever the captain is, he knows his local waters well.

For my last stop I went over to the Northwest side of the fish factory. I caught a small sand shark there and that was it for the day. It was windy all day and quite a chop on the bay with frequent white caps. I was a little concerned about getting the boat back into the slip since a wind hitting me broadside makes it a little trickier to dock. I enjoy the challenge and a good captain can't always pick ideal conditions so I enjoy the chance to use my skills despite the wind. The only part I don't really like are the judges.

You know how when you watched the Olympics in the old days the judges used to hold up cards with the athlete's scores...7..7..8..6..8? Well, Bass River is an interesting marina. About 80 percent of the people there aren't fishermen, and they're not boaters. They're campers. They buy a boat, make all the payments, but they just use it as a floating condo. They never take them out! Well, there is that one group on C dock who make an annual trip to a restaurant in single file; that's their big voyage for the summer. But most people just live aboard on weekends. I guess they couldn't find a good trailer park.

Anyway, these campers like to sit on the dock next to their boat and pass judgment on other captains' success at docking. Every time I come back I wait for them to hold up cards...8..7...8...9..7! When I come back after dark like I did Saturday, I can often hear their comments across the water. They apparently forgot how well sound travels over water. "He shouldn't be so close to the pilings." "He should have someone on the bow with a line." "He shouldn't be turning into the wind." "Look, he's going to rub the piling." I mean, come on men, drive your boat more than once a year if you want to give advice.

And is there some law that says you're not allowed to slightly rub a piling on the way into your slip? Isn't that why they call that part of your boat the 'rubrail?' It's not called a 'don't-dare-rub-this-on-the-piling-rail' is it? Heck, I've come back on windy days when I touched the piling on an angle and purposely used it to pivot on as I backed into the slip. Imagine what the judges scores are on a day like that.

Anyway, I cheated the judges Saturday night because the wind died down just before I got back to the marina and it was too dark to see me slip her in without even touching the pilings. I guess it goes back to that old saying...those who can, do...those who can't, talk about it.

Well, its been fun telling you about these three trips. I'm taking my friends Ed and Evelyn out this Saturday, hopefully to Little Egg Reef for some fluke. Then I hope to get my Dad down to fish on Monday for a long awaited fluke trip. I also want to take him out to the Ridge for some big blues but they've been a little scarce lately so that'll have to wait. I go back to work at my Florida office the week of the 16th but you'll get another Kokomo Report before then. Unfortunately, I'll be in Florida and Cancun for three weeks in September/October so I'll miss some of the best fishing of the season. I'm purposely planning my return in time to fish for fluke during the last weekend of the fluke season in October.

And just a reminder that Kokomo is for sale since I'll be moving to Florida during the off season. If you know anyone interested, e-mail me and I'll send you detailed information about her.

Not a real bang up week for keeper fish, but there's other ways to judge a trip. Good friends and calm seas are all I need to have a great time. Thanks Armando, David, and Lee. Maybe we can continue our annual July fishing trip next year from my new boat in Port Canaveral?

Until your feet hit the deck next time, pray for calm seas and safe boating.
Captain 

What a glorious day it was for fishing on Saturday! The predictions for wave heights was only 2 feet, the temperature in the low 80's, and good reports of plenty of fish in the area. What more could a fisherman ask for?

Well, for one thing, an early start would be nice. And for the second thing, good friends would be good company.
Picky, picky, picky. You can't have everything!

I fish a fair amount by myself. I'd rather have a good friend with me who enjoys fishing as much as I do; or at least enjoys the day on the water. Okay, okay; I'll even reduce that. It's nice to have someone to talk to even if they don't fish.

Not that I mind fishing alone; sometimes its the perfect way to spend a day and figure out life's little problems...like how to get the last olive out of a jar with one finger...or how to get the lint off my socks without wrapping scotch tape around my fingers all the time...or whether or not the light is really going out in my refrigerator when I close the door.

Other times its good to fish alone after a hectic week at the office. After taking calculated risks in business deals, and worrying about every human being our agency works with, and whether or not I'll be sued each time a child needs a Band-Aid; sometimes its just nice to fish alone.

The ocean can be such a peaceful place. A place where worries can't follow you. It's such a great expanse that you and your problems seem so little; so insignificant. I've noticed I worry less when I'm fishing outside. My serious thoughts just seem to float away and disappear in the vastness.

Think about it for a minute. When you're out on the ocean do you really worry about bills? It's Saturday! You should only worry about bills on payday. Any other day is just wasted worry. Do you sit on the boat and debate the Republican tax cut plan with your friends? No! You're focused on fishing; the pure pleasure of relaxing and enjoying a day on the water. And I don't know about you, but I don't spend this precious day sitting out there wondering about what kinds of new uses Bill Clinton has found for cigar tubes. I just fish. I just relax. I just enjoy the day.

But sometimes you can't fish with your best friend or favorite fishing buddies. Sometimes you don't even enjoy the solitude of fishing alone. Sometimes, hopefully very rarely, you get trapped on your boat with people who are less than your best friends; people who don't fish much but thought they'd try it; and they get seasick all over the place and make you wish you had never left the dock.
That's what happened Saturday.

My acquaintances, let's call them Duke and DaisyBelle for anonymity's sake, talked themselves into visiting me at the boat since its closer to them than my home. It was one of those things I couldn't talk my way out of. So, I just figured I'd make the best of it. It's only one short day....no, it was one long afternoon!

I like to leave at 6:00 a.m. when I fish outside. Two days before the trip Duke told me on the phone that that the first Cape May-Lewes ferry leaves at 7:00 a.m. and he estimated they would arrive at 8:45 a.m. Turns out they showed up at 9:40 a.m. and we shoved off ten minutes later. Finally.

My neighbor at the marina was heading out to Little Egg Reef at 6:00 a.m. on his 31' Silverton called Renegade. I made arrangements with him to call him on the radio when I reached the inlet to find out how the fishing was at Little Egg reef. If he told me it was slow I intended to go south and fish off Brigantine.

Unfortunately, Renegade had problems with her port side battery and he headed back early, passing us in the mouth of the Mullica. He hadn't fished much and really couldn't tell me how it was out there. I decided to go to Little Egg Reef and find out for myself.

We cruised at 18 knots on the way out and the ocean conditions were just fine. There was a two foot chop from wind effect that often laid down during the day, then kicked up again. It went back and forth but never got really rough. I was pleased with the conditions for fishing; just enough breeze and chop to give us a good drift.

As I approached the boats at Little Egg Reef they were obviously different than in the past. Usually the boats are pretty tightly clustered above the reef; but Saturday they were spread out a couple of miles, generally in a north-south line and about a half mile off the reef to the East.

I figured they were in this pattern because the fluke were in slightly deeper water than the reef, and not confined to the actual reef site. I guessed they were parking in 60 feet of water and finding fluke or there wouldn't have been so many boats in such a long line. It was great because they were spread out and there was plenty of room to pick a spot in 60 feet of water.

To save fuel I purposely picked a spot on the line to the southeast of the reef and didn't take long to set four lines in the water. We arrived at the site at 11:10 a.m....not exactly prime fishing time, but the best I could do to accommodate my guests.

We arrived at 11:10 a.m.....and DaisyBelle was sick by 11:20 a.m. I kept fishing. I'll spare you all the gross and gruesome details. I kept fishing. Then Duke (her husband) gave me that look; you know the one that says with his eyes "the-love-of-my-life-looks-like-she's-going-to-die-so-please-take-us-back-to-t he-marina-Paul." I kept fishing. She settled down after about an hour and a half; then Duke got sick....I call it 'sympathy seasickness.' I kept fishing. Then Duke got a headache. I gave him some aspirin and kept fishing.

Through all this there was some good news (praise the Lord)! I pulled in the first fluke at 11:35 and it was a keeper! I've only caught shorts in the last few weeks and was glad to see a keeper even if it was only 16 inches. Then I caught a short at 14" and then DaisyBelle's rod started dancing. At this point it was only 11:55 and she was at peak sickness. I decided to try and take her mind off dying and insist that she bring in her own fish. She did, after I explained how to use the rod, and it was 15 3/4" so we put it in the box. It didn't work, her mind was still on dying; but it was a good try.

I'll fill you in on the rest of the fish below, but the best news was that we caught a total of eight fluke, with five of them being keepers! Not one skate! Not one sand shark! Not one sea robin! Nothing but fluke. I was in fluke heaven; though my guests were somewhere slightly lower than fluke heaven.

We drifted all the way from Little Egg Reef back to the LE buoy and never had nonstop action, but had a pretty consistent catch the whole time, never waiting more than forty minutes for the next hit. It was the kind of day when I wished my Dad or best friend could have been with me. No doubt we would have left earlier and limited out.

About 2:15 p.m. I noticed the wind was picking up considerably which picked up the speed of our drift. By now we were fishing about a half mile east of the LE buoy and we had trouble keeping the lines on the bottom. Even ten ounce sinkers needed a lot of line to stay down. I got one last hit, and feeling sorry for Duke because he hadn't caught one all day, I decided to let him reel it in...it was short.

With that much trouble keeping the bait down, I decided to head back to the marina. On the way back, both guests feeling better now, DaisyBelle assured me she knew how to clean fluke. She had done it many times as a young girl while helping her mother. Fine, I thought, she can clean the one fish she caught.

I tied up in my slip and cleaned my first fluke, then let DaisyBelle clean hers. I don't want to say she really, really butchered it; but that's not how I clean them. I like fillets. Maybe she had other plans, like diced flounder and tater tots, or perhaps flounder chunk stir fry. I don't know.

We cleaned up and went out to dinner and DaisyBelle suggested to Duke that I pick up the tab. But he was too much of a gentleman and insisted on paying the check. In hindsight, I wished I had picked up the tab just so I don't need to feel like I owe them anything. But at the time, I was just thinking about the miserable time I had with them, eighty-one dollars worth of gas, and seventeen buckets of ocean water poured down my gunnels to clean them off at sea (thanks for the bucket, Scott; it really came in handy), and the head clogged with toilet paper that I had to go back and unjam....so I figured they owed me dinner.

Now, I hate to belabor a point too much, but there has to be something we can do about it. There are over 400,000 laws in the United States, many of them important and some pretty dumb ones, too. Did you know its illegal in Iowa to shave while driving to work? Did you know the legal speed limit in all intersections in Pennsylvania is 10 mph? And there's dumb laws in New Jersey, too. Like, did you know its illegal to catch fluke after October 15th? Well, while our government is so good at writing silly little laws, what would be so wrong with making it illegal for people who get seasick to go on a boat? It would be so much easier to turn down acquaintances when they talk themselves into an invitation if we could simply ask, "Do you have a 'healthy boater' license?"

Enough of that. The box scores for the day (actually only 3 1/2 hours):
11:35 fluke 16" captain
11:45 fluke 14" captain
11:55 fluke 15 3/4 DaisyBelle
12:35 fluke 18" captain
1:00 fluke 17" captain
1:10 fluke 14.5 captain
2:15 fluke 19" captain
2:40 fluke 14 3/8 Duke

So if you're looking for good fishing, I suggest 60 feet of water is still the place to be. Hopefully, it will stay that way for a while. I'm hoping to go out with my Dad this week. We haven't fished together in over two years, but he taught me to fish forty years ago in Little Egg Harbor so I always enjoy returning the favor with him.

If we can get out this week you'll get another Kokomo Report, and I plan to fish on Saturday with my friend Eric (real name...he doesn't get seasick). Then I'll miss the weekend of the 21st since I'll be in Florida on a business trip. I'll be bach (read that with an Arnold Swarzenegger accent) on the 28th, hopefully to find the fluke in the same place.
All in all, it's not so bad to fish alone.

Since Kokomo is for sale, I don't know how many more trips we'll have this year. She'll be in the Salty Dog next week so we'll see what happens. I plan to fish right up till she's bought or the season ends, whichever comes first. Then I'm moving to Florida and I'll have to send you Kokomo Reports from rented boats for a while.

Until your feet hit the deck next time, pray for calm seas (really calm seas if you have guests) and safe boating.
Captain 

I went fishing with my Dad on Tuesday, August 10th. So this special report will (eventually) tell you about the fishing conditions on that day. I had tried to take him out in 1996 and 1997, but he had a small problem with seasickness so we never really had the kind of day I wanted. It was more embarrassing to an old Navy man than it was anything else, but he wore the problem with dignity. He had been on ships from 1946-49 and weathered many kinds of seas, including a hurricane with 100' seas that lasted three days off of Newfoundland. But fifty years later in six-foot swells on a 31-foot Silverton was another time and another challenge. Despite his gallant efforts, I still felt unfulfilled. I wanted so much to return a favor. I wanted to provide him with a happy memory of the two of us enjoying a day alone while fishing for fluke. Its the same memory he gave me some forty years ago.

The year was 1959, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I was six years old when he woke me early and told me it was time to go fishing. We were staying at my Grandmother's cottage on Bay Avenue in North Beach Haven (Long Beach Island) for a week's vacation.

We drove down to the bay to a spot near the Lucy Evelyn where we used to swim in a roped off section of the bay. Alongside the swimming area was a public area where anyone could beach or moor a small boat.

I remember the morning mist coming up off of the water as the sun barely peeked over the horizon. I remember thinking I had never been up this early before, and hoped the adventure that lay ahead was worth it.

My Dad commented that the boat was not in the same place he had left it the night before. He surmised that the Coast Guard had pulled many of the boats further up on shore because of the storm last night. He said something positive about the diligence of the Coast Guard that I can't quite remember; but he was appreciative of their concern.

He loaded a lot of gear into the boat and gave me a floating cushion to sit on as I got into the boat and took the middle seat. He pushed off and took the rear seat where he started the 5 horsepower Mercury engine. The POLLY L was a fourteen foot marine plywood runabout that my Dad and uncle had repaired and restored in my grandfather's garage.

The motor purred to life and we were off in the mist to enjoy my first day of salt water fishing. We moved around from time to time trying different parts of the bay in what we now call the Middle Grounds.

I remember being able to see the bottom of the bay at times, and I remember catching lots of fluke; mostly on my Dad's rod. I remember my father patiently answering my numerous questions; and I remember him teaching me the basics of fishing and boating. At one point he called me to the back seat and let me steer the boat when there weren't any other boats around. There were a lot fewer boats in 1959. That's the moment I fell in love with boating and fishing.

The day seems longer to a six year old, but it somehow passed by all too quickly. We returned before supper to the same spot on the beach where my Dad, six feet tall, jet black hair, and as strong as any son believes his father to be; pulled the boat back up onto the beach with what seemed like one effortless yank while I stayed in my seat to avoid getting my feet wet in the bay.

I don't remember how many fluke we took home that day. There was no season, or size limit, or maximum number in 1959. My Dad cleaned them on the back porch back at the cottage that still stands on Bay Avenue but was sold years ago. We had a flounder dinner that night which I wasn't particularly fond of...and I still avoid eating fish.

Dad was a hard working, blue collar, family man. He worked two or three jobs most of my childhood, and went to college classes in the evening. We did almost all activities as a family in those days, as most families did. But as much as I loved my Mother and sisters; that one day was always special. It was a day just for me and my Dad.

Dad sold the POLLY L not long after that, bought it back, and sold it again. I worried each time he sold it if we would be able to have that special day again next summer. Much to my pleasure we spent that one day a year together during every summer vacation on LBI for the next ten years.

Long Beach Island was very different then. There were a lot of vacant lots and open fields. Bay Village wasn't there, nor condos, nor two-thirds of the houses. There were more small amusement parks for kids, hot dog stands with foot-long hot dogs, and a lot fewer cars. It was a family place to go.

One of the memories that still stands is the place where we rented a boat for our fishing day for years after POLLY L was sold, coincidentally called Polly's Dock. I still drive by there every time I visit Beach Haven. We used to eat breakfast before going out in the bay at a diner behind Polly's Dock called Fegley's diner, which has been torn down to make room for a parking lot.

The last time we rented a boat for our annual fishing trip was 1969. I started renting boats at Polly's as soon as I turned eighteen to fish with friends, but it was never the same without Dad. We hadn't had a good day of fluke fishing together since 1969...thirty years.

My first two boats were twenty-footers. I did fish on them occasionally, but I used them primarily for water skiing until I started having medical problems with my legs. Then I chartered a boat out of Barnegat Light for about ten years for bluefishing trips but Dad lived far away. Then came the dream to take Dad out for a special day of fluke fishing; my way of saying thanks to him for teaching me to fish.

A lot of things keep a father and son apart over the years. We both work a lot, there's bills to pay, college took some of my time and most of my money, starting a business meant many lean years, and it seemed like we'd never have another day of fishing together. Then came Kokomo.

I made a point of closely watching the wave height predictions and weather forecasts. I didn't want a repeat of seasickness. I desperately wanted a good day together. We tentatively set Monday as the date, but the waves were too high. Tuesday was decided on though I was somewhat concerned about the wind direction and possible chop on the ocean. Finally, we had a day picked!

We drove down to the boat on Monday and slept aboard. We got up at 5:00 a.m., at which time I found out there was no hot water in the showers at Bass River Marina. We made my traditional trips to Wawa for lunch and drinks to take along; and to Scott's Bait & Tackle for some squid and minnows.

I also picked up another filet knife, having confidence I was going to need it for the fluke I was sure we would catch. Scott's Dad recommended a knife that worked out quite well. It seemed a little strange being in the tackle shop on a Tuesday. I'm used to the Saturday crowds and the hustle and bustle of the staff scurrying around to meet all of the customers needs.

Kokomo pulled out at 7:00 a.m. with the plan of going out to Little Egg Reef where I had caught fluke on Saturday. Scott had warned me that it would be nasty out in the ocean but I had to see it for myself. After waiting thirty years, I didn't want to believe we wouldn't catch some keeper fluke and have a special day of new memories.

The inlet wasn't so bad, and I hoped it would be a sign of conditions in the ocean; but Scott was right. It was nasty outside. We moved slowly out near the LE buoy when I decided to turn around. It simply wouldn't be comfortable though I wasn't worried about Kokomo handling the waves. They were three-footers, but they came fast and from different directions; a lot of wind effect and simply uncomfortable. I was broken hearted. I wanted the day to be really special. I quietly asked God to help out a little here and let the ocean lay down for a little while.

We stopped by the old Coast Guard station and I reconciled myself to catching nothing but short fluke and junkfish. It didn't take Dad long to bring in a 13" fluke on the new rod I had given him for Christmas. We thought that was a good omen.

The next fish was a lot more exciting! Just 20 minutes after the fluke, Dad's rod gave a fantastic bend as his line took off...like a freight train! This obviously monster of a fish took off down the channel toward Tucker's Island as I watched the line speed off of Dad's reel. He had only five or six more turns of line left on the reel when I reached over and tightened the drag. I knew we were taking a chance of a fish this big breaking the line when I tightened the drag; but with little line left we had little choice.

Fortunately, it worked and the fish, now out about 80 yards, turned and headed back toward the boat as Dad persevered in the tug-of-war. Then it hit me. If you read the Kokomo Report from two weeks ago, you'll remember me describing a fish that my Mexican son Armando hooked in Grassy Channel. We lost it when it went under the boat and broke the line. We never got a glimpse of it.

I realized that Dad's fish was behaving exactly like the fish Armando had hooked, and maybe now I would finally find out what kind of fish it was! This fish goes straight out away from the boat, no zigzagging like a blue, no diving like a shark, no erratic movement...just straight out in a cocky defiance like it knows he can break the line and win the battle without evasive maneuvers. It's like having your hook welded onto the back of a caboose as the train speeds off.

Just like Armando's fish, when Dad convinced it who was boss, it turned and headed straight back for the boat. My heart pounded as I feared it, too, would go under the boat and snap the line. Dad wound feverishly and kept any slack from giving the freight train any opportunities; and like a champion fisherman, Dad refused to allow the monster under the boat.

Somewhat jealous of the fantastic fight Dad was enjoying, I quietly hoped I would actually get to see this one and solve Armando's mystery. After reading the Kokomo Report about Armando's fish, did you have a guess as to what kind of fish it was? After much consideration, and many suggestions from readers, I speculated it was a big striper. I was wrong.

Dad won! He brought the freight train right up onto the swim platform...and the winner was...something I not only didn't guess but never even considered....a giant stingray with an almost three-foot wing span! Wow! I've never seen one that big! It was too heavy (and mean looking) to lift into the boat; and his mouth was about the size of my fist...so I took the coward's way out and cut the leader with a knife.

After watching both of them fight, I'm sure Armando's fish was a huge stingray, too. I'm glad that mystery is solved; and I'm glad Dad had the fun of the fight. But I am curious about the type of ray it was. I've caught hundreds of skates, but this wasn't a skate. It was dark brown on the top, white on the bottom, and about 3-4 inches thick. Can anyone tell me what kind of large rays has been in the waters in that area lately? PapaPablo@aol.com

We didn't get anything on the next drift and I was toying with the idea of moving over to Grassy Channel, when I noticed that the wind effect was calming down on the bay. I waited a while before suggesting to Dad that maybe the ocean was calming down, too. Around 10:00 a.m. I called on the radio out to any captain in the ocean for a report of the conditions. A guy came back and told me it was laying down a little!

I was cautious not to get too excited as we headed toward the inlet to take another look outside. The inlet looked much better than it did two hours earlier...and so did the ocean. Not exactly what I would call flat, but much more cooperative than the first time we went out. They were 2-3 footers still, but much less wind effect and we decided to go for it.

We cruised out to Little Egg Reef at 14 knots to minimize the belly flopping and it was bearable. The boats at the reef were spread out on the outside of the reef in about 60 feet of water, and I picked a spot in the middle of them to start our first drift.

Dad quickly pulled in a short fluke, and I followed with a short five minutes later. I began to worry that we'd see all shorts when I pulled in a 16 1/2" fluke and finally had one we could put in the box. I forgot to buy ice at Scott's (I forget ice about 60% of the time; forgetfulness goes with getting older but I'm not going to worry about until I forget who I am). So, I put a bucketful of ocean water in the cooler to keep the fluke alive until we get back to the marina.

Dad caught a sea robin, but other than that every fish was a fluke. In three drifts we caught a total of fourteen fluke, with six of them being keeper size. The action was pretty consistent every ten or fifteen minutes with only one long spell of about an hour in between fish. See the box scores below for the details.

Somewhere in the middle of the second drift I sat on the gunnel during a quiet spell and thought back about that first fishing trip in 1959 and the last one in 1969. I'm not six anymore although sometimes I wish I was. And Dad's black hair has long ago been invaded by gray. I wondered if he could still pull the POLLY L up on the beach after a long day of fishing like he did when he was thirty years old. I felt so good that we could do this again, and I thanked God that the ocean laid down for us. I looked at him and wondered where the last forty years went.

I don't have any children to whom I can pass on my love of fishing and family. But at least now I have two favorite fishing memories. Thanks Dad.
And now the box scores:
8:55 fluke 13" Dad
9:15 stingray Dad
11:05 fluke 13" Dad
11:10 fluke 14" Captain
11:20 fluke 16 1/2" Captain
11:30 fluke 17" Captain
11:35 sea robin Dad
11:40 fluke 14" Captain
12:45 fluke 17" Dad
12:46 fluke 13" Captain
1:05 fluke 15 1/8" Dad (close, but no cigar)
1:15 fluke 14" Captain
1:20 fluke 17" Dad
1:25 fluke 17" Captain
1:30 fluke 16 1/2" Dad
1:35 fluke 15" Captain

I'll be fishing again this Saturday with my friend Eric, weather permitting. I'll try to get the Kokomo Report out before I head to Florida on Monday for a business trip. I'll miss the 21st, but I'll be fishing again on the 28th.
Until your feet hit the deck next time, pray for calm seas and safe boating.

CAPTAIN 

HURRICANE UPDATE - 1:30 P.M.  TUESDAY

     KOKOMO REPORT - SPECIAL EDITION
HURRICANE UPDATE - 1:30 P.M. TUESDAY

Ahoy Mates!!! This is your roving reporter down in Orlando getting ready to face the big hurricane of the season...Floyd.

Floyd's course has changed slightly northward. It was supposed to hit further south just above Miami...but now its going to send the eye right over Port Canaveral, which is only 40 miles to my east....and the hurricane force winds extend 125 miles and tropical storm force winds another 165 miles. So, we're going to get hit with hurricane force winds.

Let me update you first. We are expecting winds of 40-60 mph to arrive between 4:00 and 6:00 p.m. The hurricane force winds (75 mph and up) will reach us about 10:00 p.m. Unfortunately, the hurricane will last through the night so we won't be able to get any good pictures.

The headlines in the Orlando Sentinel newspaper today read, in 2-inch bold type...BRACE YOURSELVES!

The whole area is getting ready and making the final adjustments. Brevard County (Cape Canaveral, Melbourne, Cocoa Beach) evacuated last night, as did Seminole County (Daytona Beach area) Today, the government ordered Orange County (Orlando, where I am) evacuated if you live in a manufactured home. The mayor has ordered all taxis and buses off the road at 4:00 p.m. Disney parks are closing at 3:00 p.m. Sea World is already closed. Many people have taped their windows. We moved our foster children out of Brevard County and designed evacuation plans for the others.

I ordered my secretary back to Pennsylvania and was able to get her on a flight to Albany/Philly at noon. My Administrative Specialist and good friend (Eric) and I are going to ride her out, probably sleeping in our walk-in closets; especially since Eric's bedroom window faces the incoming wind which we expect to exceed 150 mph.

I have returned my rental car to the airport. No point paying any deductible for damage. We took a cab back to the apartment.

At this writing, Floyd is a category four hurricane, missing category five by only one mile per hour. We expect him to regain that mile after he leaves the Bahamas and move up to a category five once again.

I have been tracking this storm for three days through the internet and expect a full hit. My friend Eric, is somewhat skeptical by nature, stating that you can't trust weathermen. Thus, I have bought a lot of food, a radio, batteries, water, and ice....while Eric bought only three apples, a jar of pickles, and a half pound of bologna. When it hits, how much should I charge him for a slice of my bread?

I plan to give you e-mail updates as long as we have power and phone lines...but who knows how long that will be?

Our Board of Directors is supposed to fly down here on Thursday evening, and all accounts say the storm will pass before then so all flights should be a go. If you have any doubts, or changed your flight, you can call the apartment if the phone lines are still working to let me know your new schedule. If all communication is lost, don't worry. I will pick you up at the airport as scheduled.

IF THE PHONE LINES ARE DOWN...I have rented a cell phone...the number is (407) 760-5720. I will keep the cell phone on from the moment our phone lines go down until the storm passes....except from midnight tonight to 9:00 a.m. tomorrow when I am sleeping through the hurricane. Bear in mind that cell calls will be jammed; you may have to try several times before you can get through.

The first mild bands of the storm have already reached us, with winds of 25 knots and occassional rain. The worst is yet to come.

There's an eerie calm right now...the calm before the storm. There are no birds in the sky. The gekkos are nowhere to be found. The palm trees are straight for a little while longer. The fish have head out to sea. Traffic is heavy; store clearks are anxious to go home. The airport won't close until winds reach 40 mph.

I heard a weatherman say they expect the ocean effect to reach as far north as Sandy Hook, New Jersey. No one seems to know where Floyd will go next. Some say it will cross Florida and go into the gulf. Others say it will come inland and head up through western Georgia. Others say it will turn and go up the coast, maybe hitting the Carolinas. It hasn't turned yet!

NASA has put the shuttles in the garage, but the garage was only designed to withstand winds of 120 mph....Floyd could bring gusts to 190 mph! They were unable to put four of the rockets away; they are still on their launchpads.

Since this is my first hurricane in Florida, I asked a passing maintenance man at our apartment complex if they were going to board up our windows. He said no. I asked who we should call if one of our windows blows out...he said, "State Farm."

We're in good humor. I asked Eric where thought the safest spot was in our apartment when the hurricane reaches its peak tonight. He answered, "Underneath you!" Sorry Eric, you have your own walk-in closet.

A man fell out of a fifteenth story window. On the way down, someone on the ninth floor heard him say..."So far, so good!" That's how we feel right now...just waiting for it to happen.

I look forward to seeing our Board of Directors on Thursday evening. Call me if you change any plans, otherwise I'll pick you up as scheduled.

This is your roving reporter signing off for now..... Paul

FLOYD UPDATE - 6:00 P.M.
FLOYD FIZZLES!!
BARELY A BREEZE!!

Hi Folks...roving reporter here in Orlando with the latest update on Hurricane Floyd. What a letdown!

About two hours ago Floyd took a turn to the north which is bad for the Carolinas but good for Florida. Forecasts now say Floyd will stay about 150 miles offshore, bringing only tropical storm force winds to Orlando...big deal!

We may get winds now only up to about 60 miles per hour. That's nothing. Like sticking your head out the car window on the turnpike.

Eric and I are kind of letdown. We are ready for a big hurricane! Its like being all dressed up and no place to go. Like having gas in the car and you can't find your keys. Like putting on a tux to go to the church and your bride doesn't show up.

I know you're out there waiting for the next gruesome details of a major hurricane but it just isn't going to happen. At least not here.

And everyone, I mean everyone, was ready! Disney is going to be closed Wednesday for the first time in their history. People evacuating by car are jammed on the highways, now waiting for word that they can return. I hope the people in the Carolinas are as ready as we were.

I know we should be happy. I realize lives were at stake and billions of dollars of property. But I can't help feeling a little letdown after all the hype. I'm beginning to wonder if it wasn't a conspiracy to stimulate the local economy. Plywood sales went through the roof. Last night, someone offered me $10 for a pack of batteries.

But the worst part, gulp, is Eric gloating! He never did believe it was going to hit us. Now he smiles each time he puts a pickle in his mouth. He doesn't say it, but I can see that "I told you so" look in his eyes. Smug.

So our loved ones can stop worrying. We're safer than we thought we'd be. One neat thing is that many places already told their employees they'll be closed on Wednesday, so we expect everything closed tomorrow. That's a shame. I was hoping there might be enough breeze to go outside and fly a kite.

Sorry for all the hype, people. I just passed along the info on the news. Now I have to walk back to the airport and get my rental car back. At least I have plenty of food for a while.

OPEN DOOR'S Board of Directors should relax. Everything will be fine at the airport. I'll see you Thursday. Dave, you may still get in Wednesday night, but I still think Thursday would be better, especially if you want a smooth landing.

Unless there's a sudden change in Floyd's path real soon, this will be the last update.

If anyone needs any batteries......I've got plenty.
Paul 

Ahhhh! I can't tell you how much fun I've had writing these KOKOMO REPORTS over the last three years. It was almost as much fun as the actual fishing trips. It started out just as e-mail to a handful of fishing friends just to tell them what I caught each weekend. Then I started being more descriptive and took some literary license to make them more fun to read. Then the list grew; then Mizmo decided to post them on the website for Scott's Bait & Tackle. I even received a fair number of fan letters. It has been fun.
Now, and it really pains me to tell you....

KOKOMO HAS BEEN SOLD!
 

I guess the next time I want to fish out in the ocean, I'll have to walk!

Since I haven't been fishing in six weeks, and since this will be the last KOKOMO REPORT, I feel a little nostalgic tonight. I hope you don't mind if I reminisce a little. I can't help being a little anthropomorphic about Kokomo.

Great tides of Neptune, do I feel bad in a way. I feel like I just sold a baby on the black market. Like I just kicked a loved one in the teeth. Like my sea legs have been cut off. Well, you get the idea.

Another angle is the feeling like I've lost a limb, or became paralyzed from the waist down. Boating and fishing aren't a 'sport' like others claim. The game isn't over in the ninth inning. You don't thrive on wins and losses. The record doesn't matter. Boating and fishing aren't something you do...it's something you are. It's a lifestyle. It becomes a large part of your personality. I'm having a hard time figuring out what I'm going to say on Mondays when people at the office ask me, "How was the fishing this weekend, Paul?" I haven't even signed the title yet and already my life seems boring.

I mean, it's not like Kokomo was an inanimate object or something. She was my family. She cost more to operate than it cost to raise a child. And she was such a wonderful partner. No arguing or bickering over little things. Just a little tender loving care and she would purr like a kitten; or roar like a lion at full throttle.

It was like we had an agreement; a pact. I would take care of her, and she would take care of me. She never once left me stranded; even when I ran her aground one time at the dogleg by Tow Island. I bent both props but she wouldn't quit. We limped back to Great Bay and fished all day, catching seven blues in the 30-33 inch range off of Pebble Beach. And with some wonderful help from Chestnut Neck Boat Yard, we were back in the water fishing again the very next Saturday!

I wouldn't say she had a drinking problem, but it took 220 gallons to fill her up although I made a point of never running her dry. And like a real marriage partner, the harder I pushed her, the more she drank. Topping off her tank every week cost roughly the equivalent of buying groceries to feed a teenage boy. But I really lucked out with oil. Heck, she didn't use enough oil each year to lubricate a pair of pliers. I changed the oil every fall and never needed to put any more in until a year later when it was time for winter storage once again. I always thought that was a sign of having really good engines.

You don't really own a boat. There's something inhuman about that thought; kind of like slavery. Having a boat is more like a marriage ought to be. The primary thought is commitment. We've all seen boats sitting around a boat yard whose owner lost interest, or should I say, he became unfaithful. They sit there on blocks just letting the weather beat them to death until they look a shambles. Kind of like a man's house looks after his wife leaves him. Nothing's neat or clean and shiny; there's day-old gunk in the blender, dishes are piled high in the sink, and he can't understand why forty-seven towels won't fit in the washer, and he presses his shirts by putting them between his box spring and mattress. Things are falling apart.

But think for a moment about the times when the marriage is going great. There is a spiritual harmony between, among, and through the partners. As the songwriters say, they are the wind beneath each other's wings. They reach a new height of togetherness even when they're apart. Nothing else in life really matters because nothing exists outside their love.

Marriage doesn't close them in...it gives them freedom to soar! Just like the feeling I had every time I cleared the inlet and headed alone into the sunrise in search of the day's adventures. More often than not, it was just me and my partner soaring in freedom in any direction our whims would take us. Physically, our whims only took us from Atlantic City to Barnegat South Ridge; but spiritually we traveled the Seven Seas.

Several times each summer I would leave the dock well before sunrise to start my fishing trip. I would have to use radar to snake down the Bass River in the dark. It wasn't because I wanted to get to the fishing grounds before all the other boats. It wasn't even because I wanted to be outside before the first bite in the morning. It was because I wanted to be out in the vastness of the ocean before anything else made by man was in view. With the LE buoy off my stern, I literally left the whole world behind me. I can honestly say I was never more at peace with myself and the world than at that time when there seemed to be nothing but me, Kokomo, God, and an awful lot of water in front of me.

Beyond that, the next best thing about having a boat is the time with your friends and family. My Dad taught me to fish forty years ago and I'm glad I had the opportunity to take him out on a few trips. My friend Eric and I had some fantastic fishing trips over the years. I enjoyed lounging in the bay with Bob and Pat. Dave and Lee were always good company.

Time is the only commodity that can't be replaced; and many friends gave me that irreplaceable gift of time while we were cradled in the cockpit of Kokomo. Those are the memories I'll cherish most. I love the look on a boy's face when he catches his first fish; and I love the pride in his father's eyes when he coaches Junior how to bring it in. We weren't just catching fish; we were building character. We were passing on a lifestyle to a new generation. So thanks to all of you who made the fishing trips more than fun.

Then, there were the new friends. People I really didn't expect to enjoy as much as I did. I've been a bachelor a long time, and I'm kind of a crotchety old codger at times. I'm used to having my way. Since my job requires a great deal of interaction with people all day long at all kinds of stress levels, I don't particularly like mingling with strangers. I generally keep to myself on my free time.

But somehow, and I assure you it wasn't my doing, a few of these strangers treated me so nice despite myself that I couldn't help but add them to my list of special friends. I got a new slipmate last year who happened to have a 31' Silverton also. They were friendly enough, but I figured I'd just be cordial and polite, but really wasn't looking for any new best buddies. Their outgoing eight year old daughter wouldn't buy that. She met me each Friday evening with a smile and jumped into my arms for a hug and a heartfelt, "Hi Paul...I missed you this week." Gosh, that sweet little smile was hard to resist. Then her parents, total strangers, came out onto the finger dock to grab a line and give me a hand when I backed Kokomo into her slip before I even knew their names. What's more, I never once backed Kokomo into her slip in the last two years without Bob, or Terry, their son Tommy, or even little Sarah standing at the dock with a line or pole in their hands. And that was just the start. I don't have space to tell you everything they did for me and Kokomo. I can only tell you that whoever gets perimeter slip 31-port next year at Bass River Marina is going to be lucky to have them on their port side. Thanks friends.

The businesses at the shore surprised me as well. I always heard fishermen were kind of cliquish; not real open to outsiders working their way into the group. Though I've fished those waters all my life, I never fished from the same area long enough to be an insider. And living in Reading, PA made it difficult to keep on top of things that were happening at the shore. I won't say I had a great experience at either marina I used in the last four years. I guess I got minimal service but for the money I paid I somehow expected more.

The ones I did like, however, have also been added to my list of friends. Clarke's Marine Supply was good to me when I first arrived. They were very helpful with information and were quite fair with their prices when I had to order large items like a refrigerator.

While I haven't chartered his boat (yet), my new friend Frank runs great trips on his charter boat Trailbuster out of Sheltered Cove Marina in Tuckerton. You may want to give him a call when you're looking for a boat to charter.

Kokomo spent her winters at Chestnut Neck Boat Yard and I only regret they don't have a summer slip large enough for Kokomo. My first winter there was a new experience for me with a boat that size. I wasn't quite sure what to do and didn't know anyone there well enough to ask without sounding too dumb. Then Nunzie pulled up in his pickup truck and said, "Hi. How ya making out?" He talked to me for over an hour like we were longtime friends. I felt right at home instantly, and he answered all my questions. Thanks Nunzie. Now his wife and daughters run the show and do it very well. They were more than fair with their prices and bent over backwards to help me whenever I was in a jam.  So, if you're looking for winter storage or summer rack service; go over and chat with Ann, Violet, and MaryAnn and I guarantee you you'll find a home. They are the saints of salt water.

That only leaves Scott's Bait & Tackle shop. Without exaggeration, I could write a whole KOKOMO REPORT just about them; in fact, I did. Besides the fact that they have more tackle stuffed in a store the size of my living room than could reasonably be stored in a Wal-Mart warehouse, they're just down to earth friendly people. Scott is the one who taught me that fishermen aren't the tightlipped clique I thought they were. He not only tells his friends where the fish are biting, and he not only tells strangers like me; he tells the whole world through his website on the Internet (http://www.scottsbt.com). Theoretically, though I'm not sure if it ever happened; someone from some far away place, like maybe Tibet, could read on Scott's website that the blues are biting at South Ridge....fly over here the next day...and catch them exactly where Scott said they'd be. I never did figure out how Scott is so accurate with the whereabouts of the fish; but it's kind of like magic. You're better off not knowing how it works. Just enjoy the trick and bring home a bucketful. And the wind beneath his wings (Maureen; better known in cyberspace as Mizmo) dances her fingers across the computer keyboard to share the magic with the world. Kind of sounds a little like Disney, doesn't it?

Well, the report is long and I'm having a hard time figuring out how to bring the last one to an end. I will tell you that Kokomo's new owners plan to keep her at Schooner's Marina in Wildwood next season; and she'll be sporting a new hardtop and enclosure, blue canvas instead of red, and her name will be changed to STAY TUNED. If you see her out there on the fishing grounds, give them a holler on channel 9 and tell them to give ol' Kokomo a pat on the helm for me.

Some of you know that there are business opportunities in Florida that I can't pass up. I run foster child agencies and I need to be wherever children are suffering and need a helping hand. That's not a lifestyle; that's who I am. Its the only thing I love more than fishing and boating. While I expect to be kept busy the next couple of years, I do hope to find time for an occasional sailfish trip out of Key West or a tuna trip off Port Canaveral and I'll make a point of sending out a special KOKOMO REPORT even though its not happening on Kokomo...I kind of like the name...according to the Beach Boys, Kokomo is a fictional island where you want to go to get away from it all.

So, Captains, be careful out there. Remember, more fishermen have died than any other occupation in the history of the world. When in doubt; turn about! It's better to live and fish another day.
Don't hesitate to drop me a line now and then and keep me up on the fishing stories. I'd love to hear what's happening. You can e-mail me at PapaPablo@aol.com
Thanks to all. May the seas always be kind to you.
CAPTAIN

To give a brief recap for those of you reading this for the first time...I used to run my 31-foot Silverton out of Bass River Marina and wrote a brief report to my fishing friends each week about our catch. It kind of grew to a little more than a fishing report over the years. Anyway, I had to sell my boat to move to Orlando, FL for my job last fall. So now I'm boatless, but I chartered a boat last week for a trip with some friends so I thought I'd send this special Kokomo report to my old fishing friends, even though there is no Kokomo anymore.

The first thing to deal with, for the sake of any of you thinking about selling your boat, is my advice....don't sell!!! (unless you're upgrading to a bigger boat) Just chase that silly thought right out of your head. Sure they're expensive...and so is the gas...and tackle....and slip rent. But what good things in life are free? I mean, would you sell your wife just because she's expensive? Your children?

So now you are a whatever...plumber...carpenter...businessman. But you are a plumber with a boat! Let's get real...it's half of your identity! Without the boat, you're just a plumber or whatever. Let's face it, you can only stick pipes into other pipes for just so many hours a week. Then, you need a boat! You need that other half of what you are. And what about you retired guys out there? You're not even a plumber anymore! You're nobody without you're boat....so don't sell. Nobody lays on their deathbed and thinks...I wish I spent more time working! We'll lay there and say..."I wish I spent more time fishing!"

I have big pictures of KOKOMO hanging in my office and people often ask me about her. It hurts every time I have to explain I used to have a boat. It's kind of the same feeling a widower gets when someone asks where his wife is. Well, Kokomo isn't six feet under; but she's not mine anymore. To make matters worse, the new owners kept sending me pictures through e-mail all winter of the changes they've made to her! Like rubbing salt into an open wound! Cold! I'd rather remember her the way she was; rest her soul.

Yes, I know I'll buy (marry?) another boat someday, especially living in Florida now. But I have to wait two or three years until I see where I finally settle down. Until then I have to console myself by chartering fishing boats. So I started to look around. I mean, Florida has lots of coastline, and more boats than any other state...anything must be possible here! Wrong.

First, I went out on a head boat. Didn't like it. It reminded me why I bought my own boat in the first place. Too many drunks. Why is it that the person drinking is the only person on the boat that doesn't understand he's screwing up everyone else's trip? One old guy literally fell on my feet. He got up and said, "That was a big one!" Problem was, the ocean was flat that day.

I thought the next best thing would be to rent an ocean going boat and captain it myself. I miss being called "Captain" now and then. It's like another piece of me died; and I'm running out of pieces.

So, I searched the internet for a Club Nautico in my area. After all, this is Florida, I thought they'd be everywhere. Wrong again. The nearest one is four hours away. Come on Club Nautico! What's wrong with putting a club in Port Canaveral? I mean, it must be a good place for boats; that's why they call it "PORT" Canaveral! Heck, even Disney keeps their cruise ships here! Maybe they're afraid the shuttle's booster rockets will fall on their boats...I don't know.

To digress briefly. Well, I can't really digress yet because I haven't started the main story yet. Well, to continue digressing in another direction would be more accurate. Two Saturdays ago, NASA was scheduled to send up an Atlas rocket, unmanned, for some kind of military satellite. They had to postpone the mission a day, and do you know why? There's a safety area offshore which is restricted waters whenever there's a launch. If anything goes wrong, no one wants the rocket or shuttle to fall on a fleet of fishing boats! Sounds like a reasonable safety precaution to me.

On that Saturday, for some unknown reason, the boats fishing near the space center wouldn't leave when the lights started flashing! They must have had a real good bite going...I'm guessing kingfish or dolphin. So, the Air Force sent helicopters out to yell at the boaters over a loud speaker system....and they still didn't leave! Then the helicopters swooped down low to try and physically chase the boats away...and they still didn't leave!

NASA had to postpone the countdown to the next day. I don't know how I feel about it all. I mean, I'm patriotic and a big supporter of NASA; and it is a big ocean out there, plenty of room to fish outside the danger zone. But then again...if they're really biting.......

I hope NASA realizes that their rocket will be there tomorrow, but the fish might not be!

Back to the earlier digression. I couldn't find a Club Nautico online. So I drove down to the coast and drove up and down for miles, just looking for someone who rented ocean going boats. None. Nowhere. Not even rental boats for the bay (except for waverunners)! What kind of state is this where you have to drive four hours to rent a decent boat? Heck, in New Jersey you can hardly swing a dead cat without hitting a rental boat! Wow, what I would do to be sitting over Little Egg Reef right now.

My next option was to charter a boat with Captain and mate. Not quite as much fun without being at the helm, but my next best choice. I drove down to Port Canaveral (about 45 minutes from Orlando) and found a nice 39-foot Sea Ray, well equipped, with two big diesel engines, and air conditioning. I chatted with the owner for a while and really liked him. He's a retired NASA man who does this now because he enjoys it. He's been fishing these waters for many years. He even said I could drive the boat if I was a good boy; but it turns out I didn't get the chance. I guess I wasn't a good boy.

I didn't ask him what he did at NASA all those years. Later, I started to wonder. I mean, maybe he was a retired janitor, or the guy who mows the lawn...not necessarily someone who was good with math or understood the ocean and plotting and all that stuff. Just saying 'NASA' down here commands respect. So, true or not, I consoled myself with imagining he was the head man of the astrophysics department...or maybe an aeronautical engineer...just anyone with a sharp mind. I like thinking the Captain who has my life in his hands is really, really good at understanding boating and the ocean.

I don't want to sound paranoid, but if he had told me he was the guy who painted the big tank orange on the shuttle...I might have looked for another boat. It turns out he was an electrical engineer of some sort; and I didn't remember any shuttles ever blowing a fuse, so I figured he was pretty smart and it was okay.

Incidentally, that big fuel tank on the shuttle comes orange when its made. They used to paint them white, but then found out the shuttle would be 600 pounds lighter if they didn't paint the big tank; so they stopped painting them years ago. They drop off in the Indian Ocean anyway, and they don't re-use them.

Now let's get closer to the fishing story. I have a boat, a captain, and a date picked out...May 23, 2000..for my first charter boat experience in Florida. Despite that, and all my experience fishing, I'm still feeling inadequate because I don't know one thing about the kind of fish here, their patterns and habits, even what kind of bait to use. I have a lot to learn in this new area.

Three friends and I have been doing an annual bluefishing trip...kind of a contest...for six years now. We call it the TONTINE which is a fancy word for a pledge. We promised six years ago to fish together each year for the rest of our lives no matter what. We pledged a tontine. Well, it was easy when I owned Kokomo. But now I'm 1,000 miles away with no boat. No problem. Two of the guys were kids when we started, just 12 and 14 years old. Still being young and just starting out, I figured money would be tight so I flew them down so the tradition could continue.

My long time friend of 26 years, Eric (age 45) and myself (age unknown but probably over 30) were looking forward to the "boys" arrival...now 18 and 20 years old. Yeah, they wanted to do the park thing with their spare time, yada yada yada. But the main reason for the trip was to fish.

Finally, the day came and it is safe to say its probably the first time in quite a few months that I was up at 4:30 in the morning. It was great to drive only 45 minutes to the dock!!! The speed limit on the Beeline Expressway is 70 mph and there was no one on the road. We drove toward the sunrise full of hope and promise.

To add an edge of competition, we added a trophy to the day back when we first started. Basically, whoever caught the most bluefish won the trophy for a year. He brings it back next year and the new winner takes it home.

Well, let me tell you, we had quite a time over the few days before fishing trying to figure out how to re-write the rules! There aren't any bluefish here! We finally decided not to pick a special species. Very simply, whoever caught the most fish would win the trophy. A tie would mean the two winners share the trophy, and the guy who brought in the first fish keeps the trophy for the first six months.

We had always used bluefish like a trump card in pinochle. If one guy caught ten skates and sand sharks, but another guy only caught one bluefish, the guy with the one bluefish won the trophy. Bluefish beat everything. But now we had to change the rules. Any living fish counts, shellfish excluded.

We used to settle a tie among bluefish by measuring them. One year Neil and I each caught three blues off Graveling Point...but mine totaled 6 inches longer than his (99 to 93) so I won the trophy. But now, we decided inches wasn't a good idea, since some of the fish would like have larger teeth than blues have, like my barracuda later proved.

We reached the boat and found out the captain had asked a good friend of his to captain that day! Ouch! Maybe this is the guy that mows the lawn at NASA! No! Phewww! Turns out he is a tugboat captain full time and does this on the side. Great! I feel real safe, but more importantly, he was heck of a great guy and excellent captain. I don't think we ever tried a spot more than 20 minutes before he would move if they weren't biting there.

It was a calm (less than one foot swells) day on the turquoise water as we set our the inlet slowly, being careful not to run into a manatee. You wouldn't believe how fussy the people are down here about the manatees! It makes it a little easier now that they put up signs on the water...."Caution: Manatee Zone." I guess when the manatees read those signs they know where they're allowed to swim.

Captain Kevin opened up the throttles just a tad to get us around the jetty outside the inlet; and then did the coolest thing I've ever seen.

When he slowed down about 50 yards from the beach on the ocean side, I asked what we're doing. He said, "Getting bait." Silly me; I thought he already bought the bait and had it stowed. I wondered who he was going to buy bait from out here in the ocean.

Captain Kevin went up on the bow of the boat while the mate, Robert, guided the boat slowly toward some baitfish breaking the water surface. With one cool cast of a 10-foot diameter casting net, he pulled in the line with a net full of porgies! One cast! Over a hundred baitfish! Wow, does that beat buying your bait or what? Now I can't wait to buy another boat, just so I can look cool casting a net for bait!

They put them in the live well and we headed out at about 70 degrees. We traveled just about an hour and stopped for our first spot. I had been hoping for some dolphin and a great dinner afterwards; but both the owner (Floyd) and Kevin told me they weren't around. I was disappointed, but only until I hooked my first fish.

We trolled not far from idle speed, just three lines; one from a downrigger set about 30 feet, one from the port stern rodholder, and one further back from a rocket launcher halfway up the ladder to the flybridge.

We had prearranged which order we would take the rods in to keep our Tontine contest fair. Dan took the first hit at 8:40 a.m. which was a Jack Travell. I never heard of them, but we threw it back since its not edible but it did count for the contest! It was about 24 inches long and is apparently a member of the amberjack family.

Not two minutes later, Neil took the rod with the next hit and brought in a 30" kingfish! Great, we're into them now!

I took the third hit and brought it halfway in ....till he spit the hook! Darn! Now I'm down one fish for the contest! I can't let these two young whippersnappers beat me! The only way I can catch up is if they each lose a fish or two also. Fortunately, for me, Neil missed his next three hits. Who knows why? First they're there...then they're gone. I think he did it on purpose just to let the old man catch up in the contest. Thanks Neil.

It kind of dried up and we went to the next spot where Eric didn't take long to bring in a cobia at 9:35 a.m. First cobia I've ever seen. Not a particularly pretty fish, but the captain and mate raved about the meat.

All day worked like that. We'd catch two or three fish, then move to another spot. I'll spare you the blow by blow details of each catch and just fill you in on a couple interesting stories.

At our third stop, Eric was reeling in a rather large kingfish and had been working on it quite a while. We could see the streak in the water so it wasn't more than thirty feet behind the boat when WHAM!!! His line went slack as we all wondered what happened. Eric pulled in just the head...1/4 of a fish...as a giant barracuda had snapped off the rest for breakfast! We took a picture of the head...just in case. You never know. If one of us had four fish...and Eric had four and 1/4...he would be a-head! That could be the tiebreaker for the trophy!

I pulled in a 60-pound cobia!!! Apparently, that's a little bigger than the average ones. All I can tell you is that it was like trying to lift a freight train off the bottom of the ocean! They (and the 48-inch/48-pound amberjacks we caught) dived straight down and didn't give up easily. It took 15 to 20 minutes to coax them up; letting them take line, and keeping it taut the whole time...thanking God for each chance we had to actually wind in some slack before our arms fell off from exhaustion!

At 1:50 p.m. Dan took the line with quite a tug-of-war on his hands. By now, we're thinking another cobia or amberjack. Dan, young and strong, was grimacing in a way I had never seen before. Come on Dan....you're exaggerating a little, I thought. Eventually, after a great struggle, he brought in a grouper. Now, I've seen the groupers they catch in the Gulf when the head boats come in. They're 8,10, 12 inches long. They're pretty popular in the restaurants down here. Dan's, on the other hand, was a whopping 36 inches long warsaw grouper!!!! It weighed in at 52 pounds!!!

To be fair to the fish, the other guys, and my old age, I have to tell you one embarrassing thing. It was my last fish of the day, after already lifting three freight trains from the bottom, that I hooked a 48-pound amberjack. I pulled and I reeled, and I lost line against the drag, until I thought my arms would pull out of their sockets. The mate offered to help, but no self-respecting fisherman would ever hand his rod over to someone else on a day like this. To make a long story short, that fish literally pulled me down to one knee! I couldn't hold on much longer, and wouldn't turn over the rod. In sheer exhaustion I went down on one knee and rested the rod on the transom as I struggled to pull up one more freight train.

How embarrassing. A bluefish never pulled me to me knees! I'm not trying to make excuses, but try to remember these weren't little fish. And I don't want Floyd to panic when he reads this; but this was a real fighter! When I went down on one knee and rested the rod on the transom...believe it or not...that fish dived and literally pulled the back of the boat down! The stern of the boat has about 30 inches of freeboard...but that fish pulled in down so far there was only about six inches of transom still out of the water! I thought he was going to flip the boat upside down; I kept waiting to see the bow flip up over my head!

But I held on! And I won. And it was a beautiful 48-inch amberjack, and I'm glad I didn't have to bring in another one!

So to give you the box scores....
ERIC...1 cobia...1 kingfish...1 amberjack (48")
DAN....1 Jack Travell...1 cobia....1 kingfish...1 warsaw grouper (52 pounds)
NEIL....1 kingfish....
PAUL....1 cobia (54 inches)...1 barracuda (42 inches)....2 amberjack (38 & 48")

All together, we caught in excess of 300 pounds of fish. I've done that before with bluefish....but this was with only eleven fish! We threw two back; and we have no idea how much Eric's fish weighed when he only brought in the head! That left nine to hang up back at the dock for pictures.

So Dan and I tied with four fish each! According to our new rules, since he caught his fish first, he gets the trophy for six months...then passes it on to me for the second six months. CONGRATULATIONS Dan! It's the first time Dan has won our coveted trophy!

We went back to port somewhat exhausted and thrilled with a great day on the ocean. I have some pictures of our catch which I'll send to Scotts Bait & Tackle if they have room to post them on their website. WE DO!!!:The Catch | Paul's Barracuda | Paul's Big Fish

I also want to make mention that you can take a look at the boat at their website at http://www.sealegsfishing.com There's also info on the website if any of you will be in the Port Canaveral area and feel like chartering a great boat. Give my best to Captains Floyd and Kevin.

I understand that our day was a little unusual. Don't expect every cobia to be 60 pounds or every amberjack to be 48 pounds. But if you enjoy yourself half as much as we did...you'll have a great time!

We were exhausted when we got home. We didn't really want 150 pounds of fish meat either; but Kevin did clean them for us and we took home the meat from one cobia and one amberjack.

I cooked up a special dinner the next day; preparing the fish three ways. I cooked both types on the grill...then I breaded and baked some of each...and finally, cooked some of each in a Vera Cruz style. MMmmmm! Kevin and Robert were right about them both. White and flaky amberjack; and white but firm cobia. I think it was the best seafood meal I've ever eaten!

Thanks for following along with the story this long. Sorry it took so long, but I kind of miss writing the weekly Kokomo Reports, so I had to kind of cram everything into one report. Just so you know, I've chartered the Sea Legs again in June (I think the 25th) so I'll send out another report then so you'll have something to compare this trip to.

Never had a better charter trip...Thanks Floyd, Kevin, and Robert! See you in June. And thanks to Scotts Bait & Tackle in New Jersey for posting my stories over the years. I hope some of you up there will e-mail me (PapaPablo@aol.com) and let me know how the fishing is this year in the Little Egg Inlet area.

So until your feet hit the deck next time, may your joys be as deep as the ocean and your troubles as light as its foam.

Paul
Captain (semi-retired)