The fish was a king. A king fish, that is. And if we were to figure the day’s catch by the price we paid for a half-day’s outing on the “Obsession II,” the 33-foot fishing boat captained by a man named Brent, it would be hefty amount per pound.
But let’s not think that way. Let’s not dwell on the skunking of our luck… the salao of Hemingway’s fishing tale.
Let’s not worry too much about the swelling seas and the pitch and yaw of the boat.
Forget the three of us who succumbed to sea sickness (and the one who spent most of the five hours bent over the side of the boat, yawning breakfast and all the other contents of his insides into the waves).
Let’s not fall into cliché and lament the one that got away, holding our arms out as wide as they’ll go.
No. Let us, rather, celebrate this fish.
The sole catch.
This silver fellow with the sleek three-foot body. The one we took turns posing for photos with. The one that fed us well on Monday night, whose dark green flesh turned flaky white on the grill. Continue reading “The Old Sea and the Men”