Tidelines – June 6, 2013
In the wake of one my most recent fishing trips, here’s the question I’ve been running through my mind: if someone tapped me on the shoulder at 3:45 am, told me I was going to drive 4.5 hours by myself to Oregon Inlet, meet friends at the dock, be out on the water for less than four hours, catch a 40 lb. cobia before heading in, and then drive 4.5 hours by myself back to Wilmington, would I go? Would I get out of bed and start that one day journey?
The answers are conflicting. My first answer is, “No, I would stay in bed.” The second answer is a contradictory, “No regrets, rather I think my quick trip to the Outer Banks might have actually been a positive.”
One of my many yearly traditions has been sight fishing for cobia off the coast of Hatteras with Capt. Donnie Davis of DOA Charters out of the Oregon Inlet Fishing Center. Trying to merge his schedule at the Nags Head Fire Department with my printing and tournament-hosting schedule limited us to one possibility—Wednesday, May 29. I would fish with him all day, have dinner with his wife and kids, sleep in their loft, and then leisurely drive back to Wilmington the next morning.
The only real challenge with this Wednesday date was that Fisherman’s Post goes to print every Tuesday night, so I wouldn’t get to bed until about midnight on Tuesday, and then have to leave Wilmington early enough Wednesday morning to be at the docks by 9:00.
The alarm went off at 3:45, and I filled up two cups of coffee for the road before heading north, pulling into the parking lot a little before 8:30. Gear was loaded, lunches were packed away, a few eels were bought, and I shared some quick handshakes with Donnie’s friends—Brian Brown, Dillon Jones, and Michael Goetsch.
As we wound our way towards the Bonner Bridge, the talk on the boat centered on how everyone has been having multiple cobia days for about a week now, including Donnie just the day before. The boat turned south, started heading down the beach, and the ocean was alive. We saw acres of menhaden, pods of bottle-nosed dolphin, birds working, and even a couple of breaching whales.
Suddenly the boat came off plane, so I imagined Donnie wanted to start searching, even though we had only gone about two miles south of the inlet and hadn’t even passed through the tideline yet. Unfortunately, the slowdown wasn’t a choice. The engine had died. DOA was dead in the water.
I stayed on the bow of the boat, while a couple of Donnie’s more mechanically-talented friends worked to help him get the Suzuki to turn over. They tried several fixes, but it seemed both the oil and gas were fouled so ultimately the call was made to a friend, Capt. Reese Stecher of Beach Bum Charters, to tow us in. Reese would come as soon as he finished up a half day red drum trip, so we settled in for the wait.
We drifted. We ate out of boredom. And then from up in the tower, as we were drifting along about 100 yards away from the pretty blue water on the other side of the tideline, Dillon cried out that he saw a fish, and it was a big fish. He cast a bucktail. The fish turned and commited. The rod bent over double. And Dillon handed the rod down to me.
About 20 minutes later Donnie gaffed the fish and put in in the fish box. Then less than 10 minutes after the fish was on ice, Reese pulled up and threw us a rope, and we started our slow but short trip back to the docks, arriving a little before 1:00.
My plan was to spend the night, but now that Donnie would be tied up all afternoon and evening with trying to get his engine going again, it made sense to just get back in my car and head for Wilmington. I was on the water less time than it took me to drive just one leg of the Wilmington to OBX round trip, and I wasn’t sure which emotion was stronger: be happy with making the trip and catching the one cobia, or be bummed with all of the driving, the loss of sleep, and the engine dying.
I still don’t have a clear answer, but that’s the hallmark and joy of great questions—there is no clear answer. In addition, the trip did give me material for Tidelines, and therein (at least) lies the undeniable positive.
