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Not all salt-water fishing trips involve savage marlin strikes and the ultimate battle of man versus the elemental ocean. Oh no, not by a long shot.
My salt-water fishing trip took place a few years ago on a hot, hot Fourth of July weekend. My neighbors invited me to go "sport fishing" with them and a couple of their friends. Sounds like fun, right?
Where do they want to go to do their sport fishing? Dana Point, that's where. You know even on a quiet weekend in September Dana Point is jam-packed. Imagine, if you will, what the parking lot at Dana Point looked like on the Fourth of July. After our hour's drive battling the L.A. traffic to wind up wandering another half hour looking for a place to park was maddening. Ah, sport fishing on the mighty Pacific.
What seemed like hours later, we finally made our way through the acres of cars, RVs, trucks, motorcycles, surf boards and skates to get to the pier just in time to join the throngs of people piling onto the sport fishing boat which filled to capacity.
We had quite the riotous crowd. Everyone, of course, was drinking or already drunk. The crew quite expertly herded our gang onto safer parts of the medium-sized boat and off we went. Oh, yes, we all got poles and tackle.
Such excitement occasioned more beer chugging. The crowd became more and more agitated at the thought of the catch to come.
In the meantime, the boat is meandering along making a wide circle around the harbor. The passengers are becoming more and more unruly, the sun is baking us, and nobody is really catching much.
Suddenly, I get a strike. I'm no fisherman, but I managed with what seemed like everyone on the boat yelling advice and encouragement to set the hook and reel it in. That is, I got it ready to reel in and then when I saw the poor fish wriggling spasmodically, his gills pumping frenetically, I just couldn't do it.
I threw the fish back.
The crowd went wild. I thought they were going to throw me overboard they were so mad. Every last one of those crazy drunks, even my usually pacific neighbors, groaned and drunkenly tried to explain to me why we never, never throw decent-sized fish back.
My neighbors never invited me sport fishing again. Now I get my salt-water fix whale watching.
Diane Butler writes about many of her adventures out and about in the gorgeous California countryside. For more fun, click on her website Salt Water Fishing for more adventures with Fishing Trips.
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