The Fishing Trip
That Changed My Life
Forever
By
Matthew Hooper
This is a fishing story so it won't be short. Last year myself and
five mates decided to go on a fishing holiday to Tasmania. Once there the plan was to charter a boat that would hopefully see us enjoy the wonders of the open
ocean. We did as much at a local marina in the port city of Hobart.
Our boat was named the Mac Coy. An apt name for something that looked
the real deal.
It was a dark day and I hated the sea. I didn't know about fishing, I
didn't care about fishing. For me fishing was what I did as a teen at
a night club. For this IT manager the ocean was a deep and scary
place, so the fish that inhabited this world were welcome to it. I
knew so little about fishing that sometimes I needed to think whether
I was eating fish or chicken at dinner. I had never actually had the
opportunity to handle a fish at all. I was completely ignorant of the
marine world.
From the time I saw the ocean that day I was sea sick. By the time we
left the heads, I was sicker. By the time we had reached our position
off shore where the undersea mountains dropped into the abyss, where
I thought even fish would drown, I was yellow-green.
I was propped up against the cabin entry wanting to die by this time.
The swell was five meters at a glance and the wind was gale force
three.
My mates were fishing before they had their third beer, they loved
it. A drum of blood and guts was being chummed faster than the snack
food being consumed. I hated this!
So after a couple of hours of doing nothing but sway from side to
side I was eventually handed an object. It was a rod and reel. I
didn't want to fish! My senses were being assaulted and my mates
ribbing me about being the odd sailor out was adding to the nausea. I
just stood there hoping an albatross would fly by and I could snare a
ride home.
Then a kindly gentleman, our captain for this mayday from hell,
popped up to say “Good day!”
“Want to have a fish mate? Get ya mind off the old stomach... ay...
give it a go?” The captain tried to be cheerful, but I knew deep
down he wanted to punch me in the lower ribs, whip me with a yard of
rope and tell me to grow the hell up.
“Ok, OK, just throw whatever over and I'll do whatever,” I
totally dismissed his keenness. I was so sick that even if the sea
god Poseidon came up to grab the bait I wouldn't have given a stuff
about it. I then smartly remarked, “I don’t give a shit if bloody
Moby Dick jumps on the end of the dam line...mate!
The captain grinned or smirked I wasn’t sure. He then meekly said,
“You will.”
With that he opened a cooler box on the starboard side. Using both
hands he clawed his fingers under the gills of a massive fish before
hauling it out onto deck. I was in two minds at this moment. I was
hoping that I must have been so anaemic that the captain had a change
of heart and was going to suggest some secret raw fish meal to ease
my sea sickness. I then pre-empted the invitation that was never
going to come, until later that was. “I don’t feel like lunch”
I said, with a lump coming up my gullet. I'd never seen a fish so
big. All I could do was cough out a laugh and wise crack to my fellow
seafarers, “Look, we have lunch ordered already!”
While the captain had hold of this “animal” a ship hand came over
after rigging a line of one of my friends, who wasn’t catching
anything other than the propeller. He had a gigantic hook in his
hand that would be more at home in some urban myth horror movie. One
that sees a maniac kill everyone at Sea World. At that moment I
wished a pod of dolphins would come and rescue me. That half myth,
half truth of the sea was as much as I knew or hoped for at the
moment. This hook had wire attached, and the ship hand was wearing
gloves you would find on a welder at a ford factory. I yelled inside.
“Where the hell am I?!”
The ship hand then ploughed the hook through the back bone of this
fish then delicately sewed the bent spear into position. One of my
friends yelled “That’s a suburb Spanish Mackerel.” It was a
fish unlike anything I'd ever seen before. My first instinct was to
think surely this creature has to be protected by some sort of law?
“What the hell!!!!” I gasped out. “What the hell in gods name
are we fishing for?”
The ship hand simply said, “We don’t muck around down here mate,”
he smirked then rolled his eyes at his captain.
It then took the two men all their energy they could muster to lug
this fish, that would feed a family for weeks, to the back of the
boat. Here they unceremoniously yelled one, two, three and threw, or
more precisely dropped, the fish into the ocean. The swell that was
eating the inside of my stomach took the bait into the dark deaths
where even coffins had no rest. Even then I still didn't bother or
care about what this devilish apparatus was that I had lodged in my
hands, or why the devil my friends were enjoying catching jack
nothing with theirs. Maybe they didn't care because of their beer
consumption, I just don’t know?
Being the “smart” one that day I thought wearing thongs would
escape the annoyance of wet socks; like the others were suffering
from at the moment. I'd discarded the “supplied” yellow gumboots,
which were now sitting in the cabin bellow. Even though my feet were
cold, I was at least comfortable... I thought. I stared up into the
sky hoping the grey clouds might distract me from the churning sea,
but stuff me I was hit in the eyes by the rain drops from hell.
Luckily most were going side ways in the gale so it could have been
worse...I suppose. That was until I vomited. I unleashed a cascade of
breakfast down my front. I couldn't take my hands away from the rod
and reel to gain some dignity because everyone thought this sight was
fantastic. My friends roared with laughter. Then out came the
iPhone's to snap the happy occasion. It was after all a fun moment
with your buddies, who would really want to help, so I couldn’t
blame them?
Then lightening hit me, not the electrical stuff, but life.
My existence changed forever in the next couple of hours, in a
prophetic way, a deeper more meaningful fashion that would open my
eyes to the world around me. It made me think about why people care
so much about the environment. Poseidon came to teach me a lesson.
In an instant I remember moving.
I went from wearing thongs to bare feet in a few milliseconds. I was
lost for traction sliding across the deck as if I was skiing on an
inland waterway. The only thing I had the sense to do in those couple
of seconds was to curl up the old toes. Those knuckles, which were
already blue from the southern ocean, hit the back board of the boat
with an almighty crunch. At the same time the ship hand and the
captain chased me. My two life savers grabbed me before I fell over
board. One of the men flipped a gear on the reel freeing the tension
from what ever had taken on that bait. As the captain pulled me back
towards the chair a young deck hand quickly harnessed me into
something who would climb the North face of the Matterhorn with. In a
busy ten seconds I was fitted, sat and armed to do battle. I said to
my self “MY GOD!”. It was the first time I had really taken a
look at the gear given to me to fight this monster, whatever it was?
The reel was bigger then the winch on my 4WD, and the rod at the base
was as thick as my ten year olds lower arm. “Hell!” I thought,
this is it. I've got a front road seat to one of man’s greatest
adventures.
It was not until the crew had backed away that I noticed the noise.
My toes were still curled and even if they were bloody or worst
broken I didn't care any more. The reel screamed like a rocket
engine. The line was being stripped off this winch as if it had been
attached to a drag car.
The boys gathered in their lines and the iphones came out... again.
Game on. Their shouts for a glorious ocean battle surged me on. Even
the beer stopped flowing. Eight men were going to sit back to watch a
sea sick guy that was as ill as a dog take on one of the oceans
greatest predators. The Tuna!
The captain of the day then yelled, “It has no desire to end up on
this boat mate! It will take you to the brink physically.” He
flicked something on my reel and yelled “PULL!”.
The rod buckled and the first hit of pressure was in my abdomen. I
vomited again. The iphones clicked away. The only silent ones were
now taking video of the grand experience. The boat moved in reverse.
A 75 foot monster that I was at least feeling safe on was being
physically manoeuvred by an untamed beast of the sea. This thing
couldn't be reasoned with or negotiated with. All it wanted was its
freedom and was going to fight to the death to gain it.
One minute of pulling and reeling turned quickly into two. Then after
ten I had nothing left in the stomach, my whole body in fact. If I
had seen my lower intestine being chomped on by seagulls in the
choppy current off the stern I wouldn't have been surprised. After
thirty minutes I couldn’t feel anything below my waist and at the
forty five minute mark I think every muscle had been detached from my
back bone. At the hour mark I had aged ten years and my arms had been
permanently damaged. I'm not lying, to this day I still go to the
chiropractor to get the stress kneaded out. During all this time the
boat was at the mercy of a gallant opponent that was unequal in
fighting ferocity.
Then the sentinel of the sea decided to leave the ocean. Like a
missile being launched from a submarine this tuna exploded into the
southern gale that was whipping the ocean surface. The grand Pisces
sailed into the sky treating the air as just another medium for it to
swim through. Opening its fins this giant perfectly formed marauder
of the ocean displayed its colourful silver, blue and yellow. After
an eternity, when the line sprang up out of the water in a parabolic
snap, the tuna folded its self into a bullet shape before piecing the
water.
The fight lasted until the captain and ship hand grapple-hooked the
tuna after an hour and a half. It took four men to slide this
monstrous fish onto the deck. I looked at my catch dying for a few
minutes before the ship hand hit it with an axe. I was horrified at
seeing this. The spasms of this aquatic gem shocked me. In my
exhausted state I wish my stomach had been filled so I could have
vomited over the scene. Instead the undignified death of such a wild
and free fish scrawled itself into my mind. I would never forget it.
There was no glory in this, nothing at all.
Well, the boat journey back was just as bad. My mind was numb. I felt
the whole episode distasteful; with the rocking of the boat settling
my sediment of gloominess. If one of my friends congratulated me with
a pat on the back one more time I swear I could have hit them. Once
ashore I was still sick. So having tunnel vision in gaining some
medicine for the stomach and a shower I hurriedly left the others. I
was stricken with ocean-exposure after all so they understood. I
staggered away not wanting to see any more.
Then the captain yelled out to me.“Want ya fish!?”
I spun around and without a pause stormed back toward the boat
determined to tell the captain what I thought he could do with the
catch. On the way there I saw a group of Japanese disembarking from
another charter boat, obviously empty handed. I went up to the
captain and said, “Mate, I'm in a hotel room with a bar fridge!”
I pointed to the now dull eyed creature that was now frozen in death.
“Where the hell am I going to store that bloody thing!” I then
pointed to the little group of Japanese and barked, “Give the dam
thing to them!” I then walked off hoping a tsunami would wipe out
all the fishing fleets of the world...sort of. I was just mad at the
time. The last thing I remember was seeing a dozen or so Japanese
rejoicing as they carried this tuna along the pier. Even the women
had blood and muck all over them.
The joys of fishing I thought? At least a lot of people would enjoy
sushi over the next few months.
* * *
These are the facts my wife showed me on her iPad when my weary body
was aching in bed three nights later. The Blue Fin tuna is one of the
largest warm blooded bony fish in the world. Its hydrodynamic shape
can grow to over 2.5 meters and weigh more than 260 kilograms. Some
species grow to the weight of a horse. That fishing day I had a two
hundred and sixty kilo plus ocean bullet the length of my wife’s
Honda on the end of that line. The tuna's stream line body is deepest
near its dorsal fin. As this body tappers towards the snout you will
find eyes set flush with its body to limit resistance. These optical
wonders have the sharpest vision of any bony fish, those of an eagle.
The lower part of its body is silver white with a dusty yellow anal
fin. The crescent shaped tail is only surpassed by a dorsal fin of
brilliant yellow-blue. These fins can retract to reduce drag helping
it reach velocities of near eighty kilometres an hour or faster. This
spectacular fish can turn on a dime and maintain that speed. Whether
left, right, up or down it is unmatchable to almost any other marine
species in agility. This fish can dive to a depth of three
kilometres. Its appetite is basically anything that swims, lays on
the ocean bed or tries to leave the ocean to escape it. And through
all this activity the tuna maintains a heart rate over 200 beats a
minute. If it is not living in the fast lane the tuna will suffocate
from a lack of oxygen over its gills. It can live for over 40 years,
a non stop bullet of the oceans, a master of the seas that never
stops swimming.
The scientific name for one of these tuna species is the Thunnus
maccoyii. That made me chuckle; the Mac Coy. A boat ride into
the ocean I will never forget or regret. I felt the experience made
me grow, it changed me forever, I was educated, I am now an
eco-thinker. I will never kill a creature as majestic and noble as
that again. Now that I have witnessed a tuna preform aquatic magic I
am now hooked on teaching others on how to protect them. It saddens
me to see tuna stripped mercilessly from the sea. Without these
creatures the sea will die, over 90% are now wiped out already. How
long will it be before we say that the fauna of the ocean should be
allocated the same rights as the animals of the land?
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