Once in a while, yet never often enough, adults get to become kids again, albeit all too briefly. When that opportunity comes along, go with the moment and savor it.
That is exactly what happened for two local blue economy guys.
Matt and Jim (I made up those names, but the guys are real), both of whom work at Santa Barbara Landing in Santa Barbara, did what fishing landing employees often do … went fishing down on the docks during their lunch break.
No one could ask for a more pleasant and enjoyable way to relax and recreate for a half hour.
There wasn’t enough time to take a skiff over to the live bait dock, so they just made repetitive casts from the nearby jetty rocks. Their lures of choice were colorful 4-inch swimbaits on leadheads, which were easy to make long casts with.
“Hey Matt, I got a lingcod,” Jim yelled.
Matt thought he was just messing with him but walked over to check it out. Sure enough, it was a keeper that looked to be about 24 inches.
Just then the 4-inch swimbait popped out of the fish’s mouth and the fish had its big chance to escape ending the day in a frying pan. Without hesitation Jim flopped down to the rocks, reaching out and saved the delectable dinner by grabbing the ling’s gill plate.
By the way, I love and respect lingcod. They are a mean and aggressive fish that hasn’t needed to evolve much, and so they are the only fish I nickname after a dinosaur. I call them “lingasaur.”
It’s wonderful to be able to revert to being a 10-year-old, even if just for the duration of a lunch break. And that particular lunch break is something they will talk and laugh about for a lifetime.
I understand the feeling, and I’m sure most folks do.
Whenever I was at the harbor working on my charterboat and maintaining my custom fishing rods from Vague Rods, I often put a line in the water while I tended to chores.
I’ve done that sort of thing all my life and I always will, because there is a fair chance that a fresh fish dinner will be the foreseeable result. This behavior is deeply coded in my spirit’s DNA.
When the rod bends deeply and I see the staccato action on my rod tip announcing the presence of a fighting fish, nothing short of a presidential visit would keep me from reeling in that fish. I’m not sure I’d stop anyway.
The presidential thing hasn’t happened yet, but if it did, the only thing I’d do differently is offer to let the pres reel in the fish, providing he or she had a California fishing license. Wait — does a U.S. president need to have a state license to reel in a fish?