2006 Fishing Photo & Writing Contest

Grappling with the Deep
 -Irwin Gelding 

The days of summer flew by.  With my work schedule I was barely given a chance to enjoy it.  This was my welcome mat to the real world.  More like a doormat.  I had one foot in the doorway to adulthood, yet I wasn’t all the way inside.  Though I worked five days a week, I still had two days off.  These days were usually spent on the docks of Sausalito.  My friends from high school and I hung out on one dock in particular; the Sunset dock.  Aptly named, for it was adjacent to the Sunset Seafood Restaurant.  Local legend said that the quaint restaurant had acquired its name due to the simple fact that it was the first restaurant anyone saw coming into town.  This made it the furthest establishment to the west.  When everyone watched the sunset from Sausalito, they saw the Sunset Seafood Restaurant as well.  Whether that was true or not made no difference to us.  We made that dock our own, spending our carefree summer days fishing, drinking, flirting, and bullshitting all day long.

      I had spent the night at a friend of mine whose mother lived in Sausalito.  Justin had prepared by checking the tide chart in the local paper.  Around noon, we gathered our poles and our gear and set off for the dock.   

      Sting ray fishing was our reason for being on that dock.  Truly a challenge, wrangling one of these beasts to shore took a spirited effort and many a hot summers’ day to master.  Of course, there were posers who cast their lines in the deep with tests adjusted to catch a great white.  But what was the thrill in that?  The true challenge lay in a line adjusted for thirty to thirty five pounds.  The average ray reeled in at our dock, if it could be brought in at all, was about fifty pounds.

      From the very first cast, the spirit of competition engulfed us.  The one who cast out the furthest was given the most respect.  A poorly cast line merely brought a small shark, completely missing the serpents of the deep.  We would wait sometimes up to an hour or two for even a nibble.  Then, one of us would get a tug.  The one “up to bat” would attempt to steer the catch to shore while the rest of us reeled in our lines to avoid a tangle.  True skill was necessary in order to steer the catch.  There were two dangers involved while steering; snap or spool.  The creature on the other end would jerk the line with such enormous strength that the line would snap.  This occurred from too much tension on the line:  a rookie mistake.  Or, the line was towed away from the dock to the point where there is no more slack.  There isn’t much one could do but attempt to cut the line and save the pole.  A snapped line could be hooked and weighted again, but a spooled reel was done for the day.  Bringing a ray to shore was a story in itself.

      Justin was considered to be the black sheep of his family.  He lived life on the edge, willing to try anything just to say he tried it.  I sort of admired this quality in him.  He wasn’t trying to impress anyone.  Simply put: Justin lived life on his own terms. 

      Duke, Justin’s well trained Rhodesian ridgeback led the way down Bridgeway.  On our way to the dock we stopped at Soon’s local shop.  Justin greeted the older Asian woman behind the counter.  I picked up a package of frozen squid from the back of the freezer section.  He grabbed a twelve pack of beer.  We brought the items to the counter and she rang them up.  “Telve ninetee fy.” Justin gave her thirteen.  I grabbed the bag and we left.  Though we were underage, Justin had been buying beer there since he was sixteen.  It was different for the locals of Sausalito.  They played by their own rules.  

      “Here, Duke.”  Justin produced three sticks of beef jerky from his pocket.  He gave one to his dog.

      “Geeez.  I didn’t even see that.”  I was genuinely surprised.  Normally I would’ve known beforehand if he was going to swipe something.  I was usually the distraction.

      “Neither did she,” he laughed handing me a stick.

      We passed the Sunset Restaurant.  Three valets, a little younger than us were busy parking guests’ cars during the busy lunch rush.  Justin waved to them.  “Suckers,” he said to me under his breath.  “Bet they wish they were fishing, too.”  They waved back.  Justin seemed to know them, though he seemed to know just about everyone in Sausalito. 

      When we arrived at the dock, we were greeted by two other friends; Jeff and Adam.  I observed the water near the front of the pier.  The wind was sweeping away from the dock.  That was a good omen.  I opened a cold can of beer while preparing my pole for the first cast.  Silently, I examined my friends who were also preparing their poles.  How lucky I was to be there with them fishing.  There was no other place I wanted to be except there on the dock on the bay.

      Adam dunked the calamari into the water to soften it.  He gave me a strip of the slippery substance.  I wrapped it securely on my hook.  Steeping back a few paces, I warned the others I was ready to let loose.  I cocked the ring , swung my pole behind me, and raced forward.  Release!  What a beautiful cast.  The line whizzed through the air dropping the sinker depths of the murky water. 

      “Nice toss,” Adam said. 

      “Thanks.”  I took a seat to the side allowing room for the others.

      In the near distance, a ferry boat slowly churned across the water.  Angel Island loomed behind it.  Legend said that the only prisoners ever to escape Alcatraz swam to that island.  Alcatraz was off in the distance to the right.  Even in broad daylight, the prison turned landmark seemed gloomy.  Sailboats and other boats toiled around the bay like little toys in a vast tub.  On the other side, a blanket of fog was settling over San Francisco.  That was quite common during the summer, reinforcing our belief that there was no better place to be than Sausalito.  “Check out the fog.  Think they’re having fun over there?”

      “Suckers,” Justin answered.

      We laughed.

      Nearly an hour after everyone had cast, we were all still waiting for a sign.  The “crabbers” had arrived and were hoisting their nets.  “Cheen Chon’s trying to catch dinner for his family of twelve,” Jeff mused.

      “Jeff, they can understand you.”

      “I don’t care.”  That was typical of Jeff’s style; insensitive and slightly redneck.  The only wit to his sense of humor was the fact that he made fun of everyone, including himself.

      The tide was steadily rising as the afternoon sun traveled westward across the sky.  Most of the breakers disappeared beneath the water.  Suddenly, there was a tug on Adam’s line.  It bobbed twice and dipped.  My attention was so distracted I hardly noticed the tug on mine.  I picked up my pole.  The line was running.  I tugged, and then loosened the slack.  The reel spun even faster. 

      Meanwhile, Adam reeled in a tiger shark.  It was easily identified by the distinctive stripes.  Justin held the feisty fish down while Adam grabbed a pair of pliers.  He pried the hook free from the shark’s mouth.  Adam held it up for us to see.  The shark measured roughly two feet in length.  Not a bad catch.

      I concentrated on my own line.  The most crucial moment was at hand.  I was determined not to allow this one to spool my line.  Though, the beast was not making it easy for me.  The reel was spinning and I was losing ground.  My line was down to the blue-coated reserve.  I tightened the slack.  Nearing the end, I gave the line a desperate tug hoping to turn the ray.  The line stretched, and then loosened. 

      “You lost him,” Jeff exclaimed with a bit of jealous enthusiasm. 

      I had chalked it up as a loss.  I slowly reeled in the excess line.

      “Wait!  Look.”  Adam pointed to the line tightening.  “Mark, you still got him.”

      “Holy Snikeys!  You do.”  Justin was standing at the end of the pier watching.  “Reel it in.  Faster.”

      Cautiously, I reeled the line in, maintaining a steady pace.  At any given moment the powerful ray could turn and run.  I could feel the sun burning from above.  Sweat beaded on my forehead dripping in little streams down my face.  Justin offered me a beer but I refused.  Adam wiped my forehead dry with a towel.  “Thanks, Adam.  I needed that.”

      Forty minutes into the struggle I had reeled in half of my line.   The will of the ray was strong.  Every muscle in my arms was aching.  The joints in my hands were crippled.  My back stiffened from the struggle.  Clearly, fatigue was setting in.  “Here, Jeff.  Take the pole for a minute.”  Though he was a wise guy, he was the most experienced of all of us with a pole.  I stretched my arms and back.  “Hey, Justin.  I’ll take that beer now.”  He tossed a cold one my way.  I slammed it quickly.

      “Holy shit!  This one’s big, guys.  Really big.”  Jeff was truly impressed. 

      “Here.”  Jeff carefully returned the pole to me.  I quickened the pace forcing the ray to obey my will. 

      A small crowd of tourists had gathered on the sidewalk.  A couple gawked, speaking some foreign language to each other.  A family had edged their way closer to the dock.  The boy fed Duke a piece of his candy bar.  “What the hell you got on there, boy?”  The man’s southern accent was distinct.

      “It’s a sting ray,” Adam replied, perusing his daughter. 

      “Make some room,” I warned, stepping back.  It was time to hit the sidewalk near the breakers. The dock was too high to pull such a massive creature aboard.  The sidewalk gave me more lateral mobility to coax the ray toward land. The crowd cleared the way.  I continued to reel it in from the sidewalk.  More onlookers arrived to watch.  It was almost there, and then it turned.  I lost fifteen minutes of work in a matter of seconds. 

      “Don’t lose him,” Justin said muffled by a beer can he had been chugging.

      It was common for the sting ray to turn and flee when it sensed land.  They normally did not swim in so close to the dock.  With more lateral movement it was easier to turn it around. 

      Ten minutes later, I was met with even more aggressive resistance.  At the risk of losing it, I tightened the slack.  It was very close.  I inched it toward me, slowly reeling it in.  A silhouette appeared ten feet away.  I heaved it into shallow water.  That ray was stunning.  The crowd was mesmerized by the violent flapping of its wings.  I held it in place with my pole while the others donned leather gloves and lifted it out of the water.  Applauds rose from the crowd.  A group of Asian tourists launched a flurry of snaps from their cameras as the three of them dropped the black slippery ray onto the sidewalk.  Justin twisted the hook free with a pair of pliers. 

      Jeff handed me his pocketknife.  “Go ahead, man.  You deserve it.”

      I walked over to the panic-stricken ray and stared into its coal black eyes.  I felt sadness for the hundred pound ray.  It was a glorious predator in the water, but on land it could do nothing.  The poor thing was at the mercy of me. 

      “Don’t hurt it” someone yelled from the crowd. 

      “Shut up and go save a whale,” Jeff returned.

      I looked around but I could not see who had yelled at me. 

      “Go ahead.  Cut it off.”

      “Hold on, Jeff.”  He was referring to the stinger.  It was the largest stinger I had ever seen. 

      “It’s gonna look great around your neck,” Justin added.

      “I don’t know, guys.”

      “Come on, Mark.  You aren’t going to listen to that fricken hippie-ass tree hugger, are you?”

      I fished for sport.  It passed the time as I hung out with my friends.  I had never caught anything so large in my entire life.  Who was I to debilitate this poor creature?  “Throw it back.”

      “You’ve got to be kidding.  Then I’m going to get that stinger.”  Jeff started toward the ray.

      “Back off, dude.”  Adam stepped in between the ray and Jeff.  “If Mark doesn’t want it, no one gets it.”

      “Thanks, Adam.”  He nodded. 

      It wasn’t the faceless voice in the crowd that deterred me from cutting off the stinger.  Was it compassion?  Perhaps.  I had won my duel with the deep that day and that, in itself was my trophy. 

      “Give me a hand with this thing,” Adam demanded.  The three of them boosted the sting ray over the breakers.  At the count of three, they hoisted the beast back into the depths from whence it came.  The crowd watched it disappear.