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It was a warm and muggy morning. The kind of morning us Normandy Beachers affectionately call "warm and muggy". As I poured my coffee and prepared for my morning constitution, I knew full well what we would be eating for dinner. Nothing would deter me. My boys would surely be at the boat on the dock loading it up with the gear, having been awake since 4am with excitement. We would be going for the highly elusive Father's Fay Trifecta (Bluefish, Weakfish, Striped Bass).
Anyways, after looking outside and seeing my boat alone, I went upstairs and woke the anxious pair. The older one I made put on deodorant. A bowl of Capn Crunch later and we were off. The older one and me anyways, as the younger one discovered a last minute school project that needed attending. "Fine, Be that way" I sneered; he knew not what he had turned away. We headed south under the Rt37 Bridge. I repeatedly asked for radio checks, and when my son, James, asked me why nobody answered, I was about to tell him that no one wanted to spoil the morning song of the sea with radio cackling, when some non BFH member got on and told me to STFU. I think he was bummed about Hillary, and was taking it out on me.
The first part of our trifecta had us trolling some plugs for bluefish around the BB buoy. Unlike the gentleman on the radio, we ran into some fine friendly boaters. They waved frantically and enthusiastically as we powered through their pod. I think they were impressed with my new boat and skills, and how I could negotiate such a small area with such speed. They were safety conscious too, as the seemed to be going only about 2 or 3 miles per hour. We waved back and kept going. PS the plugs did not produce any blues.
The second part of our trifecta had us at Meyer's Hole, throwing Storm plastics at a hole that we had marked on the troll. On my Garmin 545 sonar, the hole clearly showed a lot of red color on the bottom of the screen, but I found out later it was pizza sauce. Anyways, we did get a few nibbles, and were cranking tunes from my new stereo. We were going to produce, had I not had to take a call from my brother, whose basement was flooding. He had lost power and was wondering what to do. (I'm good like that. You know...relied upon... advice sought... that sort of thing....) Anyways I told him to bug off and get a genny, and we returned to our fishing. PS weakfish do not like Steve Miller Band. That's all I have to say about that. Second part of our trifecta accomplished.
Well, I reached Captain Mike on the Incentive on channel 78 on the VHF. I had called him nine or ten times, and he must have had his radio turned down. I think it was Scott, (aka Broken Road....we all have different names or handles on the VHF.... mine is Parker Sal, although I own a Boston Whaler) who got on and shouted "Mike just answer him already." Broken Road is a funny guy. Well, Mike got on the radio and explained that it was in fact turned down (I knew it), and that was why he did not answer me. I asked him if he was killin' em (read that term in The Fisherman). He told me that it was quiet by him and all the other boats in his area, and that I should drive my boat to the end of Toms River, by the Lobster Shanty, and then anchor up; he said throwing metal croc spoons near the pilings and retrieving them quickly would produce monster bass. Like Young Frankenstein bass. Well that we did, and my son said he was sure he felt some nibbles. He asked if anything was biting my croc. I told him "not since the army son in '86" he he he. I think he enjoys having such a hip dad. I think. Anyways I tossed the croc too far and broke the window on some blow boat. We decided to leave.
Third part of the trifecta (Blues, Weak, Bass) accomplished, we turned towards home in Normandy Beach. Off to Brooklyn to see my old man. Well, I was right when in the morning I said I knew what we would be eating later for dinner; Grape Leaves, Kibbe, and Hummus!
Happy Father's Day all!
PS It was good to open up the 175 Verado. I knew we were sucking gas, but I had heard how important it is to get the Verado's cooking in the beginning for the sake of the seals.
Great story. Sounds like most of the fishing trips on the Whaler with my dad. We have caught a lot of good times but not a lot of fish. Well at least from the boat, wading on the river, look out. Looking forward to my little guy growing up so we can spend fathers day out on the water.
Thanks Jeff. I wish you good times on the water with your son. After the prepubescent nightmare I went through with my oldest (smile inserted here) , I am into a real sweet father-son stage with my oldest. I am digging it, and on a Whaler it is all the more sweet. I know, as someone who couldnt get away from them.
We also had a real nice long jaunt in the 110 Tender powered by a tiller 9.9.
Great story Sal.... I was laughing as I was reading it. My favorite part was...
Unlike the gentleman on the radio, we ran into some fine friendly boaters. They waved frantically and enthusiastically as we powered through their pod. I think they were impressed with my new boat and skills, and how I could negotiate such a small area with such speed. They were safety conscious too, as the seemed to be going only about 2 or 3 miles per hour. We waved back and kept going.
Agree with all who have responded....what a great story!!!
You are very lucky and on your way to many great memories.
Reminds me of the hysterical times with my dad in our '73 Sourpuss as we fumbled along learning the ropes. Eventually, we started getting good at it and could successfully make the trek into Brooklyn with some of the day's catch for his mom (my grandmother) and extended family.
Wait till the roles get reversed and they are taking YOU out like I'm doing with my Dad now.........always in a Whaler, however.
We have caught a lot of good times but not a lot of fish. Well at least from the boat, wading on the river, look out. Looking forward to my little guy growing up so we can spend fathers day out on the water.
