Fighting the Blues

No, not the those melodial somber songs of love lost favored by those of Southern ethnicity. BLUEFISH! The voracious, hard fighting, razor toothed, and absolutely TASTY bluefish. We caught 6 yesterday aboard the Miss Belmar Princess. Among the hundred or so other anglers crowding the decks that day, Khomenko and I managed to hook, fight, and land 3 hefty little suckers a piece averaging around 8-15 pounds. When we reached port we had two of them filleted and baked them at my friend Faith's house, the rest we took home for later consumption. It was a fun, and very sucessful day. So now I will give you a dramatic account of today's endavors, in the third person.

The sun had barely risen and sat perched proudly over the horizon as the early morning fog slowly crept back beneath the surface of the water. Deckhands hurried about their chores, the fishermen lingered on the docks, leaning against railings and loitering on the boat. 

As they pulled up alongside the transom of the Miss Belmar Princess, smiles widened across their eager faces. Chris and Dan had been planning this trip for weeks. And at last, they saw their plan unfolding before their eyes. 

The Miss Belmar Princess was an exceptional vessel, capable of holding over 150 anglers, who, when over the fishing grounds, crowded her railings eagerly in hopes of enticing a bite from the deep. 

A slip up in planning left Chris and Dan with 4 dollars between the two of them, momentarily dejected, they settled down on the foredeck and were horribly consumed with feelings of excitement and anticipation. Remarks were exchanged praising each other for each of their contributions to the planning which had placed them exactly where they were now, aboard a party boat, bound for the offshore fishing grounds, to tangle with the monsters of the deep blue.

Much time had passed before the boat finally left the marina and got underway. Rods were set up, and now all that stood between the two teenagers and their catch was 20 miles of Alantic Ocean, all of which passed by exceptionally slowly even at the great speed at which the Miss Belmar traveled. An hour had passed and the engine continued to churn and chug, and Chris wondered if the journey would ever end, or if the captain had become lost. Then, suddenly the engine grew quieter, the waves crashing off the bow dulled. Off the starboard bow the two boys saw the telltale specks on the horizon, where the rest of the fishing fleet was at anchor. 

At last, the hum of the engines groaned to a stop, and the boys found themselves surrounded on all sides by glistening blue water with the occasional fishing vessel not to far off. Reels were clicked open, and lures dropped into the water. 20 minutes passed, a few anglers to their left and right landed some substantially sized blues, including one directly left of Chris. 

An hour passed and their hopes were slashed. Sulking, and

wondering if there really were any bluefish in the Atlantic ocean, Chris walked over to the other side of the boat, and switched from the unproductive metal jig the deckhand tied on for him, to a large hook and chunk of baitfish. Another fishless half hour passed by. Leaning gloomily against the rail, Chris' mind wandered to thoughts of large fish and what the fight would be like when suddenly, the reel began spinning incredibly fast. Astonished, it took Chris a full 3 seconds to realize what was happening! "FISH ON!" he yelled at the top of his voice as he set the reel and reared back on the rod. A gallant battle ensued, and for 5 minutes the fish put up a ferocious fight before being gaffed and brought aboard by a deckhand. The smile which he began the day with returned to his face, and shortly after both boys began hooking into some large, very voracious, and very tasty, Fighting Blues.

Meh my writing feels a little bland up there. But I'm tired and too lazy to fix it. 

When Dan and I got off the boat yesterday we were completely caked in decaying fish matter. Turns out, party boats arent a lot like charter boats, where you go only with a private party. On party boats when the fish start to hit, lines get tangled, and you get covered in slim, scales, and blood. Pretty gruesome experience, although the big bluefish you catch certainly does make up for the mess. 

So tell me what you think about this blog on facebook. Like I said in my first post it is EXTREMELY weird writing all this crap that potentially nobody will enjoy or hate. Feedback would be nice but please if your house is on fire attend to that first. 

MEGAN BRANTLEY

-Chris