Tidelines – August 27, 2015
Any opportunity to get offshore is a treat, but those offshore treats become even more valuable to me once my schedule tightens with the renewal of teaching responsibilities at Cape Fear Community College.
August is the month for most of us across North Carolina (kids and adults) to return to school for the fall semester, and August has also become the time for the Fisherman’s Post crew to return to Blue Water Point Marina in Oak Island for an annual bottom fishing outing with Capt. Ryan Jordan of Fugitive Charters.
Fisherman’s Post Editor Max Gaspeny with an African pompano that struck a Blue Water Candy Roscoe jig at some live bottom in 105′ of water while he was fishing with Capt. Ryan Jordan of Fugitive Charters.
Fisherman’s Post has three full time employees (myself, Max—Editor, and Joshua—Sales) and a handful of part-time staff, with Sarah Gagliardo (layout, social media, events, etc.) as the most full-time of the part-timers, so it was decided that the four of us needed to spend some time together outside of the office and away from tournament registrations, weigh-ins, and awards.
Like last year’s trip, Ryan was joined by his mate of five years, Billy Stockdale, and also like last year, Billy had traveled to work by skiff, making the seven minute ride from Varnamtown over water instead of the 35 minute drive by land.
For Sarah, this wasn’t just her first Fisherman’s Post fishing trip. This was also her first ever offshore trip. While she spends a lot of time plying the inshore waters of Fort Fisher with her kayak (and also takes the kayak on the road to fish our tournament sites prior to clocking in to work the events), she hadn’t yet been offshore.
Fisherman’s Post Layout Artist Sarah Gagliardo with her first amberjack. The 30 lb. fish fell for a live bait above a wreck in 100′ of water off Lockwood Folly Inlet while she was fishing with Capt. Ryan Jordan of Fugitive.
Max, Joshua, and I were happy to have her along and share this first, but not just to be supportive of broadening her fishing experiences. No, our primary motivation was to have Sarah participate in a long-standing Fisherman’s Post tradition—new employees must play with amberjacks.
Our first stop put a variety of bottom fish in the cooler, but before we could work the area further for some trophy fish (Ryan had been on some African pompano here in the last few days) the barracudas moved in.
So it was at our second stop that the Fisherman’s Post amberjack tradition continued. I think I was the first to hook an AJ and Joshua the second. Then Billy put a live bait on a hook and had Sarah drop it down to the bottom and then bring it up a couple of cranks. Sarah’s amberjack hit before the couple of cranks up were finished. Struggles. Grunts. Groans.
The rest of the day played out with beeliners, sea bass, grunts, and pinkies hitting the box. We weren’t able to add any grouper, but Max landed an African pompano still sporting its beautiful streamers as well as a couple of rock hinds. Joshua added a handful of triggerfish and another rock hind.
My main contribution, other than losing an estimated 60 lb. cobia to a broken hook, was to do battle with more amberjacks and almaco jacks than everyone else on the boat combined. Lucky me.
Then on the way in, still about 20 or so miles out, Ryan and Billy brought the boat down to idle speed and told us they had a promise to fulfill. Just a few days earlier they were working on the boat at dock when a nine-year-old boy named Trey walked up with his grandmother and introduced himself.
Trey was a little shy but determined, and pretty quickly asked Ryan and Billy if they would do him a favor—would they be willing to throw a corked bottle stuffed with memorabilia overboard on their next offshore trip, a bottle to commemorate his mother (Erin), as she had passed away earlier in the year and this week would have been her birthday.
Of course Ryan and Billy agreed, and as Billy threw the bottle overboard Ryan wrote down the GPS coordinates to email to Trey when he was back on land and in front of a computer.
So instead of being deviously proud with ourselves for making Sarah’s arms, legs, hands, and back ache from fighting amberjacks, we were instead honored to be a part of nine-year-old Trey’s memorial to his mother. Sad for sure, but more proud.
