Good Wednesday
Almost everyone has at least one “tick” that irritates people close to them. To my wife, it would have to be that I hum songs very softly. Do I know I’m doing it? Most of the time, I would say yes, but I have been doing it so long that it catches me by surprise when she says, “Stop it, Collins!” In those instances, I get pretty defensive because I wasn’t doing it to intentionally agitate her but was simply thinking of a song I like. You see, I love music of all types, and once a song gets in my melon, it stays there until another takes its place. Is this weird? My answer might be: consider the source.
So what does my tick have to do with anything? Since my wife is at work right now substitute teaching, I reckon I could belt out the song that’s in my head, but I’ll stick to humming it. It popped in there as I prepared to write this tale of an offshore fishing trip I took a few years back. The song? It’s an oldie but goodie called “Mama Said” by the Shirelles. If you aren’t familiar with this song, the main chorus line is, “Mama said there’d be days like this, there’d be days like this, mama said.” Let me tell you, those words perfectly describe the nearly perfect day Hilton Head Boathouse manager Grant Kaple, Blufftonian Aaron Dowell and I had in the Gulf Stream.
Having kept a fishing journal since the early 1970s, I was thumbing through it and realized that, year after year, one particular entry had a common thread. On or around Good Friday, I had always caught fish in the Gulf Stream. When I told Grant this, being a whole lot more logical than I am, he replied, “But Collins, don’t you realize Good Friday’s date changes from year to year?” I reckon he had a point, but regardless, some of our best days were always right around Good Friday. After some begging, he said we would go, but Good Friday was out of the question due to his work schedule. He could go two days before, on a Wednesday. Needing a third person, I called Aaron Dowell, owner of Bluffton Marine Supply, and after juggling his workload, he called me back saying he was good to go.
Pulling away from the dock at 4 a.m., we headed out. Rounding the north end of Hilton Head into Port Royal Sound, the familiar slapping from waves was nonexistent. No roll, no bounce, and because it was pitch black, all I could do was hope the long ride out would remain the same. Just about the time false dawn came, I was able to see enough to realize the ocean was absolutely flat calm. It was like we were on a lake somewhere and not the mighty Atlantic Ocean. As the sun began to peek over the horizon, reds, oranges and pinks reflected on a shimmering sheet of glass as far as the eye could see. This kind of ocean is wonderful for running, but once we started trolling, experience has shown me that the fish don’t always get fired up in such calm conditions.
Reaching our destination, Aaron and I began putting out baits. I swear we hadn’t even finished setting our spread of eight or nine rods when a reel screamed. I had rigged mostly for wahoo, since Grant had entered the Wahoo Series tournament, and by the way that line was peeling off the reel, I pretty much knew it was the target species. Unfortunately, just as we had the fish at the back of the boat, one violent headshake and it was gone. I thought to myself, there goes our one shot at a wahoo.
That thought disappeared quickly as another rod bent double, and quite honestly, our rods stayed bowed up for the remainder of the day. “Mama said there’d be days like this,” and what a day it was. Boating five of the seven wahoo we hooked, along with several barracuda, bonita, amberjack and fine dolphin (mahi-mahi), it was nonstop action. At one point, we hooked four large amberjack, or as we call them “reef donkeys,” and though they are a pain, we landed all four before releasing them. Talk about strong fighters, these fish can wear out even the biggest anglers.
The finale came just before we headed home as we trolled parallel to a large Sargasso weed line. Known to be a haven for dolphin, I watched the brilliant dorsal fin of a big fish cutting through the slick surface away from the boat. As soon as our lures passed, it made a quick 180-degree turn and shot through our spread. It hit one bait so hard it caused the line to wrap around the rod tip and snap. With a full box of fish, it didn’t bother me one bit as that dolphin greyhounded a good 100 yards with my $40 lure hanging from its jaw.
It might not have been Good Friday, but it sure was one memorable Wednesday.
Collins Doughtie is a 60-year resident of the Lowcountry, is a sportsman, graphic artist, and lover of nature. collinsdoughtie@icloud.com.
