Gone Fishing: Rough Waters

I type "rough waters" in my blog posts or texts to friends as code for things feeling rocky, scary, dangerous. Like: An undertow, a fear of drowning, a losing sight of the shore. I have felt like I've been in rough waters a lot lately, for a couple of reasons.

But today we literally were in rough waters. Sis had chartered a powerboat and a fisherman [young Bobby Tambascio] to take us out from 1 to 5 as part of her birthday present to her husband, Don. Despite storm warnings, the sun was shining and the sky blue when we left the Greenwich Water Club. Captain Bobby, who learned to fish from his grandfather, Sal, zipped right out to Eatons Neck*, a fish-rich spot he likes off Long Island, near Northport. He said if we drove there, it would have taken 2 hours on the road. But on the boat, we arrived in about 20 minutes. 

He spotted blues jumping over the water. They eluded us, but he baited the hooks with hunks of clam and also lowered a chum bucket into the waves to increase our odds. Before long, he, Sis, Don and Punch were reeling in fish--porgies, aka scup. One by one, he unhooked them and slipped them into a large cooler of ice. He had five rods, but I chose to watch.

After a couple of hours, he got a call on his cell. I heard the voice, which may have been his brother's. 

Is it pouring out there?

No, said Bobby. 

Turns out it was pouring in Greenwich from maybe 3 p.m. till almost 5. And when he pulled up our anchor and sped back to the dock, we were caught in rough, rough waters. As in: Pelted with sharp darts of rain every way you turned. It was an onslaught, and we were bouncing on the water. My blowout from yesterday turned into what looked like a sopping wet perm. My eyes stung from sunscreen that washed into them. My black tank top and skirt were wet. I hunched down and held Sis's windbreaker over my head but it flapped wildly and I got drenched anyway. Punchy snuck into the tiny head [bathroom] for shelter but then accidentally locked herself in for a few seconds and was calling my name. 

Don't go in there, Captain Bobby called above the slosh of water. We'll be bouncing and I don't want you to bump your head.

So this is rough waters, I thought. This is what it feels like. I have to hold on tight or I won't be able to help the ones I love.

And all you can do, really, is take cover and ask if those around you are okay and tell them to grab onto your arm if they want. You help your brother-in-law with his hood and you grip the edge of the big cooler to stay aboard but you also keep an eye on the others, including the one manning the boat, the one driving you through the rough, whipping waters and sheets of rain from Mother Nature and Father Storm

You trust the one manning the boat. You have no other choice, as long as the person is smart, skilled and capable. That is a lesson for life

At 4:59, the rain had let up and the dock was in sight--where boats with names like Summer, Smooth and Splashdown were safe in their slips. I was so grateful. I borrowed Sis's towel and dried my face and arms. 

By 7:45 p.m., we were safe and dry and our fresh-caught dinner was on the table. Capt. Bobby had fileted the fish and Sis baked it with yummy seasonings and served it with salad and rice. Even Punchy ate a plateful.

We are all pretty tired now. Good night.

*Kim and Nan, have you been there? I know you both have been boating around Long Island....

Punch + Sis when boat was anchored at Eatons Neck off Long Island.

Captain Bobby, who has been fishing and fileting since age 5, with a big porgy today.