Me & Den in Key West

Drinks, Fishing, Drinks, Sandwich

Capt. John pulls the throttles back, heads Miss B. into 15 knot breeze and Raymond begins to stream out lines, baiting hooks with frozen ballyhoo. He rigs primarily the same as “Teaser” yesterday with outriggers, teaser rod from the bridge, rods aft in the rail on either side of cockpit and addition of two more rods aft center for a total of seven rods out. This is a serious fishing captain.

“Now remember, five dollars for the biggest fish no matter what kind.”

“I think we ought to bet five bucks on the biggest fish of each kind,” I replied.

“Dow,” he comes back, “That’s gonna get too complicated. We’ve gotta keep this simple. After last night and you making me drink all those crazy drinks, I’ll never remember what we’ve caught.”

“But think of all the money you’ll make. You’re always top rod or high gun,” as I schmoozed him up, “and we can always double up on the bets if we really get into fish.”

“What are you talking about, you know I never have any luck. You’re always ahead of me. Why you’re always spotting more game and boating more fish than me. Christ you’d have me broke before this trip is over. Why don’t you just concentrate on finding our luggage and quit pesterin’ me about more bets.”

“You started this.”

“What.... what are you talking about, I started this! You’re losing your mind.”

Finally Ray chips in laughing. “Tell you what. I’ve got paper and pencil in the cabin. You guys figure out your bets and I’ll keep track. We don’t want any blood but fish in this boat.”

“Wham.” Starboard outrigger lets go. I’m in starboard side chair and hop into main chair as Ray hands me the rod and starts winding in the other lines with Den’s help.

“Five on each species,” I yell.

“Oh all right.”

This is no small fish. Ray sets tension up a couple of notches on the big Penn reel giving the fish a chance to run and perhaps tire a bit sooner. I pump, but gain just a few yards and lose it immediately as the drag screams and line runs out. It’s a wahoo. Tell by the way it darts from side to side in wild runs. I pump and gain yardage. Reel down, try to pull in a yard or two. He takes off again. Tailwalks. Now to port. I reel as he comes back across the wake and turns for an instant toward the boat. Ray yells “Reel hard. Keep the tension.” I wind as fast as I can until the tension fetches up again on the reel.

From the bridge Capt. John calls down, “Good stop. Fish should beginning to tire now.”

I pump and reel down. Fish has other ideas than tiring. Mother must have passed along some strong gene power. Takes off again as line screams off the reel by yards.

“This should be his last big run,” Ray says in a knowledgeable way, “Keep that tension up. Don’t let him get any slack on you. That’s good, now pump. Easy now. Pull back. Easy now.”

The rod gives a bit as I begin to reel.

“Somethings funny. He can’t have tired out that quick.”

Ray pulls down on my line. “Reel Hard.”

I reel. From the tension of a 90 pound retreive, feels like there’s less than half on the line. I start to say something when “Bam” rod doubles down again and first reaction is I’ve snagged either a log or a floating cement truck. Ray, standing beside me, reaches down and quickly eases the drag again.

I can’t even begin to pump. Best I can do is hold on. Let the drag do the work and try to keep tension as line continues to pay out.

“You’ve got a big shark on. Must have bit off part of the wahoo then come back to finish the job and you hooked him. Hang on, we’ve got a fight here. Just pump when you feel the end of his run. Keep that tension up.”

Den grabs a bottle of water and holds it while I take a couple of swallows. “How you doin’ pal?”

“Not too bad. But I’m here to tell ya I won’t be tonight if I have to play this one too long.”

Fish starts to turn. I pump again. Reel what I can. He turns away. I lose line again. We go back and forth. Gain a few more yards, he takes it back. I gain some more. He takes a short run to the side and I gain again, gain some more. Capt. John is standing with his back to the wheel, backing boat down with just throttles and gearshifts. Turning, following the fish, speeding up in reverse, calling out “reel” or “hold the tension” now turning again to follow the fish.

I gain ground. Yard by yard we’re working this guy closer. Still got plenty of life left. Muscles in my back are beginning to scream. Den soaks a sponge in seawater, squeezes it on my neck letting water run down my back. Feels like a million dollar shower (Expensive hotel). Time, as ever, in a fight like this runs in slow motion. I ask Den How long.

“Hour and a half”

Ray holds a bottle of “Gatorade” as I take a couple of healthy drinks then ask for more. Feel like I’ve been pulled through a knothole then back same way.

Finally get shark close enough to start thinking about pulling it aboard.

Den, following Ray’s instructions, has set up a block and tackle from a ring on flybridge overhang. Line has a large hook on free end which Ray manages to hook into shark.

Shark, safely subdued and stretched out in the cockpit, Ray rigs lines again and I try a few stretches on the floor, trying to keep muscle spasms at bay.

“Guess you win the first five,” Den grins.

I could just about get one foot ahead of the other as Me and Den walk from Miss B’s berth back to hotel.

We arrange for assorted Wahoo and Grouper we’d landed through remainder of the day to be sent to the Faulkner’s by cab.

I say to Den, “Bout the only way I’m gonna be able to go anywhere tonight is to get a massage and loosen up this back of mine.”

“Desk clerk’ll know of someone.”

We ask on the way in. Clerk said he’d call. Few minutes later we get a call in the room. “Come down to fitness room in 20 minutes. Masseuse will be waiting for you.”

Hour or so later, I rejoin Den by the pool. He’s talking to this really thin guy who looks like he’d spent the last few years in a Bangladesh slum.

“How’d it go?”

“Great. Lady really knows her stuff. Kind of wrung me out all over again, but she got my back and arms loosened up. Now I can move without quite so much pain. Who’s your friend?”

He introduces me to Andy Whitehead.

“Met Andy outside Garrison Bar while you were having a massage. Needed a small loan to tide him over so I gave him ten bucks and bought him a beer while he told me his life story. Came into Key West four years ago on his sailboat and never left. Told him he should come along with us tonight for dinner.”

I hesitated just a fraction and trying to be polite said, “Perhaps Andy would like to borrow some clothes. I can walk down to our favorite clothing store and pick up a few more things. You two get cleaned up. You want anything?”

“Maybe you can find us some long pants and decent shirts. We’d better at least “look” presentable tonight. Not every day you and me get invited to dinner on a yacht.”

“Think you’d better call,” I ask, “Let them know we’ve got an extra guest with us?”

“Dow, they’ll have enough food. Sides, she seems to be a good sport.”

“Be right back. Oh, Any word on our luggage?”

“Are you serious?”

Took me but a short time to find some clothes for Den’s newfound friend and ourselves. I gave the clerk two twenties, got some change back, bagged everything and walked back to our room.

“Try these on,” I said, as I threw the bags onto my bed. Sizes may not be exact, but I bought a couple of belts and if one isn’t small enough for Andy we can cut another notch to cinch it up.”

Quite apparent Andy had spent some time under the influence of a hot shower, razor and soap while I was gone. Made quite a difference. I showered while they dressed. Den shortened a belt for Andy. Difficult to fit a guy with a twenty something waist, and a body that looked like it enjoyed at least one meal a week.

“I did call,” Den says, “They’re expecting us at eight. I kind of suspect that this is not going to be just a small intimate dinner party. She mentioned something about music I didn’t quite catch. So, we’ve got time for a couple of Margaritas and a few oysters before our presences are required. You like oysters, Andy.”

I rang Roger and Joe’s room, told them to meet us at at the Half Shell oyster bar. One cab wouldn’t hold us.

“Dozen oysters all around,” Den says, “And margaritas. This one’s on me boys. We’ve got to celebrate my fishin’ brud’s catchin’ the ‘Great Grey shark’ today.”

“Wow,” I thought to myself, “Den’s starting to relax a bit and spend some of that pill money he’s been stashing in his sugar bowl these many years.”

He hands me a ceremonial five spot which I carefully fold. This one’s going on the framed shark picture when we get back to Maine. “Two trophies in one day.”

One round led to two as we consumed plump Appalachicola oysters and drank straightup Margaritas on the rocks.

* * * *

Roger and Joe also had an excellent day. They’d been on the “Reel Teaser” and Captain Mario’d found as he had with us, two more schools of Mahi from which they’d brought in a good half dozen fish of varying sizes. Faces were burned red and they were applying about a tube of burn ointment each to try and stop the pain. Said stuff on “Reel Teaser” wasn’t working too well till they discovered Manuel of the “water, sodas, Senors” fame had refilled the sun block “squeeze bottle” with light oil for the reels. Time was edging toward eight as we quit our barstools and started down the few blocks to City Docks where the Faulkners were berthed.

• R E C I P E •

Smoked Salmon Angel Hair Pasta
There are few food items in this world I enjoy more than Smoked Salmon, especially so when we can buy the plastic-bagged “pieces” from the supermarket. Course, there are few pastas I’ve ever met I’d leave on a plate.

Pkg. angel hair pasta
½ cup whipping cream
½ cup whole milk
qtr. cup chopped fresh dill
qtr. cup chopped fresh green onions
4 ozs. chopped smoked salmon
Salt and black pepper
Grated parmesan
Teaspoon grated lemon peel

Boil Pasta in large pot until “Al Dente.” Drain and return to pot, then in a small heavy saucepan combine whipping cream, milk, dill,onions and lemon peel. Bring to boil over medium-high heat. Add sauce to pasta and toss well. Add Salmon and mix in well. Season (taste first) with salt and black pepper (esp. the pepper). Top if you wish with the Parmesan...Italians seldom use cheese with a fish pasta. I’m hungry again just writing the recipe.