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The
weather developments before this trip were a nightmare. A
scenario was forming to be another storm of the century, we're
talking four story high waves and a wee bit better. Hurricane
force |
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exactly good fishing conditions to say the least. So I wrote
it off. Then
I received a call from my good friend, Capt. Mike, from Howard
Beach who was itching to get into some good cod fishing. |
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He told me that the storm was not happening, that the new
reports were saying eight feet waves. I told Mike, let's
see tomorrow. The next day it was all but gone, thank God.
So at the last minute, we got it together and headed out
to the Viking in Montauk. The boat had forty hearty characters
ready to do some wreck fishing up North. We left at 9PM
sharp with a good ride in front of us. Last year's wreck
trips were a bummer because of the bizarre high water temps.
Not this year...Mother Nature made sure of that...it was
in the mid-forties...cod temps. Wind was a bit stiff at
20 knots but I had no expectations on this out come. Leave
it to St. Peter and his expertise. The seas were still a
bit wild by the deep water wrecks Steve had planned to hit,
so we started out to the
Georgia
Banks.
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It was good old jigging time and the cod bit their little
heads off, with fish coming in up to twenty pounds. Everyone
was hauling one after another. Yours truly pulled his back
out right before getting on the boat, so I was eating Motrin,
like M&M's and dying as I watched all of this. I don't
know what was more painful, my back or not being able to get
into this mad cod party! Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.
I grabbed my favorite Al Goldberg cod stick and threw that
jig in the water. "I'll just lean it on the rail and
reel slowly," I thought. The Gods have a sense of humor.
A twent pounder slammed on with a ten pounder. A shot of pain
went right threw my eyeballs and I said, "Hey Mike, ol'
buddy, ol' pal...reel this in." He laughed, took the
rod and reeled it in. Then, like a true fishing jerk I threw
the jig back in again, thinking I'll get a small 8 pounder.
But no Ralphy Boy, it was another |
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20
pounder and 8 pounder again. "Hey Mikey, whatcha doing
ol' buddy, ol' pal...take the rod, quick!" So first
he reeled in his fish and then grabbed mine and reeled it
in.
I hobbled to the bench inside the cabin to die of back spasms.
Needless to say, I did this by the hour all day. I'd get
two or three fish and then lay down and cringe, get up and
repeat. I don't think my chiropracter would be to happy
with me. The entire boat was ecstatic from fishing from
sunrise to sunset never leaving the rails. They ate at the
rails, had coffee at the rails and were settled in like
pilgrims at the last stand.
By
7PM the fishermen dropped like flies, crashing out everywhere.
They could have slept on cinder blocks. Not a complaint
out of any of them, content like little mice...all of them.
The
next morning, my back had finally losened up enough for
me to do some damage. I was not going to miss out on the
fun. At the crack of dawn, Steve backed down on one of his
many wrecks that hasn't been fished for a while. It was
the twenty pounder day, that was the average size for the
second day. Double headers were not uncommon. I had a blast!
Talk about making up for lost time. A few slabs snapped
the line of a fellow fisherman next to me, whose drag was
set a wee bit too tight. Capt. Mike was absolutely a fishing
machine. He was in a zone going to work. No talking, just
fishing. Let me tell you, it was cold as a witch's toe,
but not one person gave a hoot.
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We
moved to the last wreck. First the smaller agressive fish
were coming up, then the larger fish started coming and
then it got ridiculous. All big fish, one right after another.
Guys,
this is as good as it gets, period. Yes, we could go into
the good old days of forty pounders and rods breaking...
but this was good old hammer time, cod fishing. Captain
Desi had also pulled his back out and did not drop a line
the entire two days. His back finally eased up on him, so
he could drop one line before the horn blew twice to go
home.
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His
rod doubled over and he cracked a smile from ear to ear
and pulled a thirty pounder over the rail. Way to go Desi!
Capt. Steve did a smoking job in putting us on some great
fish as always. Everyone on that boat has cod fillets for
the entire winter and then some. Cars were riding low that
night on the ride home...with many a story to tell their
friends when they got home.
Steve
wishes all of you a good holiday season. While he drives
the Star down to Florida for a toal revamp. New insides,
new engines and new bunk rooms. So next year some new and
interesting trips will be added. Some that will tickle the
imagination and push the distance a little further. So book
ahead and don't get left at the dock.
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