Euphoria!!

"Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing it is not fish they are after."

-Henry David Thoreau

Anyone who knows me understands that since I was old enough to walk I desired to spend the majority of my leisure time fishing. By grade school my desire had turned into a firm addiction that I never sought the wagon for. So given the chance to fish one of Ernest Hemingway's favorite Marlin haunts (Indian Ocean near Mombasa, Kenya) I did what any junky would do, I indulged myself.

After making several calls to local captains I finally found a recommended man at a reasonable rate. I even managed to pick up a fishing partner to split the fare with. A portly Englishman named Mike of about 60 years with barely manageable gray hair and totally unmanageable black eyebrows. After quizzing me about life growing up in Illinois--"you all ride around in those open back trucks there, do you?"--we reconvened on Saturday morning and walked a quarter mile down the beach to meet Captain Rob Hellier. We found Rob at, what I presume was, his local coffee spot chatting with a few other local charter captains. I quickly realized that what Rob lacked in spoken words he made up for in body language and beard. It was an all time great beard; imagine a viking beard, pirate beard, and caveman beard thrown in a blender and then tossed on Captain Rob's face.

After expressing his displeasure to the all Kenyan crew--non-verbally of course--over a mechanical issue, Rob took us out. The sea was angry that day, we were in a 40+ foot boat with twin Caterpillar diesels and we were getting tossed hard the first hour. My partner for the day the Englishman, who was normally never at a loss for words, was still. No movement, no talking, just the jaw clenched, white faced, gaze toward the toilet that screams I am going to be sea sick.....and was he ever. It was a shame because Rob put us on more fish than any one man should be able to reel in for a day, but I managed.

Even though I did not land a black marlin or a sailfish, the ocean and Captain Rob provided enough fish to produce a good sized blister on my right thumb. As I sat there gazing out into the ocean with, what I am sure was, a sappy looking grin on my face and arms dragging from pumping and reeling so many fish, I felt home. I did not feel at home, I felt home, I felt where I was from, and for the first time in over a month I actually felt like myself. It was close to a perfect day, one of those days that you wish you could capture and keep as pure as the instant it happened.

Below are some pictures of the fish I caught. In all fairness Mike, the sea sick Englishman, did manage to take time out from hollering Charlie down below to land three fish.

Daily observations:

1. The Kenyan subsistance fishermen are insane!! These guys are a mile out, six guys in an eight foot boat, in ten foot swells.

2. I am the WORST snorkeler ever, even with a life jacket and lifeguard at my side I still failed miserably.

3. It was difficult driving through all of the poverty just to stay at a resort that probably does not pay their employees a decent wage. Its like driving past a sweatshop to pick up your Nikes.