I was in a three day conference in Biloxi, Mississippi, last week, and the afternoon of the second day was designated as a "bonding exercise". What that really means is that those who want to play a free round of golf, get in an afternoon of fishing, or enjoy the hotel spa are given that opportunity as a part of the conference expense. Sound familiar so far?
I naturally chose the fishing expedition, and headed for the dock as soon as we broke up the meeting. I brought a cooler along to take some fresh fish home, and was almost excited about the trip. It was to be a five hour charter out of Biloxi, and into the Gulf of Mexico. Now this particular trip was out of Biloxi, but the same things can and does happen on both the east and west coasts of the United States. As it turned out, I wish I had played golf!
Now, I don't mind fishing on a party boat occasionally, in fact, some party boats do better than a private charter. But when I feel like, or actually see that I am being taken for a ride, I really get exercised!
We were told by the obviously unhappy captain and his only mate we would be catching cobia, redfish, and perhaps some trout. I knew we would not be seeing any of those fish when I saw where we were headed.
After a one hour ride to the Mississippi barrier islands, about seven miles offshore, we were treated to eight trolled spoons of various sizes. Eight lines out the back in a spread both wide and deep pretty well covered the water column. These were in most cases Penn 4/0 rigs, although two of them had 6/0 reels on them. Oh, I forgot; there was a plastic sign on the stern of the boat that says, "You break it or loose it - you bought it". Such a comforting, relaxing situation....
Now comes the fun part!. Sixteen fishermen, eight rods, and a slow troll on the outside of the islands. The one mate spent time telling fish stories about the great trip last week, and how big the fish were yesterday. The captain trolled an area about a half mile wide and a half mile long, over and over.
I noticed one of the rods bouncing a bit more than the others and pointed it out to the mate. With great fanfare he set the hook and offered the rod to one of the fishermen sitting in one of the eight fighting chairs (yes, eight!). With a lot of whooping and hollering, that first fisherman winched and drug a twelve inch Spanish mackerel up to the boat. The angler looked at the fish, looked at me, and shook his head. There is no telling how long that fish had been on the line. Talk about shooting birds with elephant guns! This same scenario occurred five more times during the next four hours. In an effort to provide some small piece of excitement, the captain anchored on a sand bar where the mate chunked up the mackerel for chum and bait. They were looking for a shark in order to make the trip a "success". Trust me, even if we had hooked up with a shark, the trip would remain a dismal failure!
