The One That Didn't Get Away

It was a perfect day to go fishing on Chesapeake Bay.  There was going to be "an abundance of sunshine" according to the newspaper.  However, it was 32F when I drove off towards Deale where my friend, Nikolai, keeps his fishing boat.  The fields around Deale were carpeted in a thick white frost and "glinting like a million tiny diamonds" as the weather man on the radio so poetically put it.

Even at 9.00AM, the boat was still covered in frost and the water hose in the boat had frozen overnight.  It was definitely on the chilly side.

We headed out to sea well bundled up in wool hats, parkas and reefer jackets.  Nikolai had caught a big rockfish on the Bay the week before so we headed out to the same spot again.  There were only one or two other fishing boats out there.  We more or less had the Bay to ourselves.  

Nikolai does all the skilled, technical work on these fishing expeditions.  I merely point the boat in the right direction while he puts together all the weights, lures and rods.  The six lines are set at different lengths and depths so that we can trawl for rockfish with deadly efficiency!

After trawling for about 45 minutes there was the heart-stopping sound of a line reeling out at warp speed.  When this happens, there is a high-pitched whine that sounds like a demented dentist's drill.  The rod was bent around in an alarming arc and looked ready to snap.  Whatever was on the end of the line must have been huge--either a monstrous fish or a Malyutka class Russian submarine.  It was so heavy that Nikolai could not risk taking the rod out of its socket.  He started slowly reeling it in, a bit at a time.  The rod was jerking back and forth in a violent fashion and this went on for about four minutes.   Suddenly, the rod straightened up and went slack.  Our fish (or sub) had escaped and had taken with him a big hook and a major part of the lure.  "We'll catch him the next time," I muttered.

After all that excitement, it was time for some sustenance. This usually takes the form of excellent offerings from the Russian store, Whole Foods or other fine purveyors of food.  Of course, this being a Russian fishing vessel, only the finest vodka is served.  Nikolai had just brought back from Russia a superb vodka infused with grapes that was somewhat redolent of grappa.  Na zdorovje!

Surrounded by a calm blue sea and bathed in radiant sunshine, we quaffed our vodka and devoured Uzbeki chicken kababs, pickled cucumbers, marinated tomatoes and black Russian bread.  At moments like this, you drift off into a parallel universe and discover the true life force!

Our reverie was shattered when another line reeled out at high speed with a sound so high-pitched that dogs would have fallen dead on the spot.  Nikolai shot from his seat and grabbed the rod.  Once again, the rod had almost curled around on itself.  Another sea monster?

With great difficulty, Nikolai wrenched the rod from its socket and began reeling in, alternatively pulling up the line to his chest and then letting it down, slow but sure.  The rod was dug deep into his stomach to give him some purchase.  The slow swaying and reeling movement continued for several minutes.  This fish was not going to get away.

And then we could suddenly see our monster thrashing around at the end of the line not ten feet from us, surfacing and diving, trying everything to dislodge himself from the hook.  This was an old guy and he had plenty experience of hooks and how to escape them.  I now grab the fishing net and as Nikolai brings him by the side of the boat, I attempt to get the net under him.  I get him half way into the net but he falls back into the water.  "Get his head in the net, get his head in the net," Nikolai is screaming.  I make another attempt and once again he is half way in, lying on the rim of the net.  It is then that I realize that this fish is ridiculously heavy and that I can hardly lift the damned thing.  He flops back into the sea.

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On the third attempt, I get the net over his head, then under his body and heave him up until he flops into the net, nearly dragging me overboard with the unexpected weight.  "Bring him in, bring him in," I can hear Nikolai shouting in excitement.  I try to raise the net but a 40-50 pound weight at the end of a six foot pole does not respond well.  And did I mention that I have an awful carpal tunnel condition in my right arm?

Nikolai also grabs the pole and with one huge heave we bring our fish on board with a resounding thud.  He is enormous and still thrashing around with the lure and hook attached.  The net pole is swinging around wildly on the deck.  Good grief, I thought, he is going to try to kill us with the pole!!

But no, he was beached and decked and slowly gave up the good fight.  He just looked at us with glassy eyes.

Nikolai thrust his hand into the huge mouth and dislodged the hook.  No way on earth would I have put my hand in its mouth--well, only after a few more vodkas, maybe!

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We then took a few photos of our catch.  He was about 43 plus inches and, I am guessing, well over 40 pounds.  Nikolai held him up first and I told him he looked liked Arnold Schwarzenegger!

Then I held him up--with great difficulty--and felt more like Schwarzenegger's wife!!  Unfortunately, my photo confirms that feeling--I look like I am about to collapse.  With the photo opportunity finished, I put him in the hold under the deck.  Coming into contact with the water, he went into another thrashing frenzy, lifting up and banging the hold door on the deck.  Yikes.  What had we caught--Moby Dick?

We had another celebratory round of vodka and were just beginning to relax when Nikolai sprang up again.  This time there was no sound from the reel because Nikolai had seen it bending and had got to it before it reeled out.  Another monster!  He started reeling it in.  I have to admit to thinking that if we had to land another huge fish I might be incapacitated for life.  But it was not to be.

After a few minutes of reeling and tugging, whoever or whatever was at the end of the line escaped.  What a crying shame.  We could have come home with three huge fish.

Never mind. The one that didn't get away was a magnificent specimen, a great fighter.  Maybe we are ready to go marlin fishing in Florida now??

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By now the light was beginning to fade and it was getting cold.  We decided to head home to our families who were anxiously(?) waiting to find out whether there would be fish for dinner.

Back at the dock, Nikolai cleaned and gutted the fish and then proceeded to fillet it.  The two fillets were enormous and I can't imagine how many meals we will get out of them.  Nikolai kindly gave me one of the fillets--and also the head, tail and belly because Regee will create a spectacular fish soup from these parts.  In the depths of winter, the Soubbotin and Newport families will still be dining on the bounty of Chesapeake Bay!