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ABACO GOLD 
Typically Max and Gaffer would wake at
dawn on a fishing day and be on the water shortly
after sunup. But when Lisa and P.J. were joining
them, the day moved much slower. This morning
P.J. was still sleeping at eight o'clock and Lisa
bustled around the kitchen making lunch for an
army. Gaffer got impatient waiting for the family
and headed to the marina. Max waited and waited
for the non-fishers to get the show moving.
Finally by quarter to nine Bimini Twist
idled out of Boat Harbour loaded with food,
drinks, cushions, towels and every other item of
comfort that Lisa could find. By now Gaffer was
simply disgusted while P.J. napped in the bow and
Lisa and Max sat together on the jump seat for
the forty minute ride to the area offshore of
Ambergris Cay. It was beginning to look to Gaffer
that, as a fishing trip, this day would be a
bust.
“Gaffer, stop by Skeet's place on the way out. Let's see if he and Susan would like to go with us.” “Dad, we've already got four people in the boat. Four more is more than I can stand. Let's take them some other time when we're alone. When we go out with Skeet, I want to be fully alert. He's got some of the best numbers in the entire Atlantic.” Gaffer was referring to the GPS coordinates that fishermen used to help them navigate. Gaffer and Max spent a great deal of time finding, scrounging and recording good numbers. It was the most important tool in their bag of fishing tricks. “All right. Go ahead,” said Max. “We'll get with Skeet later.” The marked spots on the bathymetric chart did not produce as Max and Gaffer had hoped. After sending lines to the bottom at 900 feet, 1,200 feet and 1325 feet, they had caught only two green snappers and an undersized grouper. Gaffer referred to the chart and selected a new area to try. The wind was picking up and white caps began appearing on two to three foot seas. “Dad, if we head down wind five miles there's this site here,” Gaffer pointed to an area where six tightly spaced concentric circles appeared on the chart. One of the outer circles was marked 840 while an inner circle read 880. This indicated a hole in the ocean floor. At that depth a hole was very likely to be the habitat of groupers. Max agreed that is was worth a shot. He steered the boat in an easterly direction riding in the trough, taking the waves on the port side. It was an easy reach, no pounding of the bow against the waves, just an up and down roly-poly motion. This bearing would also bring them that much closer to home. The five mile run took only fifteen minutes. Max steered this way and that, reading the bottom on his high powered Furunu depth finder. The hole was there all right, they were sitting right on top of it. Gaffer was changing to 16/0 circle hooks and switching from squid to barracuda strips. Max let Bimini Twist drift and kept a keen eye on the GPS to see how quickly they were moving across the bottom. He failed to notice that Lisa was laying down on the cushions along side P.J. They were both frowning and holding their stomachs. He was alarmed and quickly moved to the bow to see what the problem was. “Honey, what's the matter. Are you sick?” Lisa did not answer but quickly got up and leaned over the side and wretched. Hearing and seeing this, P.J. got up and joined his mother in the chumming ritual. When Lisa turned around she looked miserable. The color was drained from her face, her arms and legs had grown weak. She was about to say something when she quickly turned her head over the side and wretched again. P.J. returned to the cushion he had been resting on and groaned. Max had been oblivious to the motion of the boat as he and Gaffer had spent years rocking around in all kinds of seas. They rarely noticed motion when they were deep dropping, regardless of the sea conditions. It made them forget that not everybody could tolerate it. “Gaffer, don't bother baiting those hooks. We need to get out of here into something calmer. Your mother and brother are pretty sick.” Gaffer unplugged the electric cable and secured the deep drop rig. Max throttled up and headed for the channel just north of Man-O-War Cay. The wind had picked up to twenty knots out of the southeast. Bimini Twist would have to take four and five foot waves off its port bow. Very rough and very wet. For fifteen minutes they would be given a good tossing. Max opted for the twenty-five minute version. It would take longer to get in but it would not be quite so wet and much less violent. “Honey, come back here with me. It's going to get real wet and bumpy up there. You'll be more comfortable back here. Gaffer, get the foul weather gear out of the storage locker for anybody who wants it.” The whole Carson family huddled around the leaning post in the protection of the center console and windshield. Max accelerated to 3200 RPMs, driving up one wave and down the other. The wind and waves were now directly on the bow. The spacing between the waves was far enough apart that the boat could ride up the front and then down the back. The boat was pounding violently. Each time it climbed over the crest of one of the waves, it came down with a crash, throwing salt water spray fifty feet to each side, straight up in the air and into the boat. Lisa was frightened but she tried not to show it. P.J. and Gaffer felt safe with their father at the helm. Max was confident that everybody would be safe but he was concerned about their fears. He moved as quickly as possible to the safety of the Sea of Abaco. After being tossed around by the angry ocean for far too long, Max sighted the markers to Man-O-War Channel. The tide from the bay was moving out and the current was running at four knots. This was going to be a very treacherous approach. As the channel narrowed, the waves built up. As Bimini Twist made it to the top of the waves, Max could see that 200 yards ahead was calm water. But between here and there were rolling, breaking waves, some five feet high and much too close together. It would take all the skill he had to negotiate this without swamping the boat. First things first. Above the roar of the engines and the waves Max called out, “Gaffer, get the life jackets! Everybody put one on and hold on, this is going to be rough.” The first set of approaching waves was upon them. Max steered quickly to the right and took the foamy mass on the port bow. He jammed the throttles and the boat was lifted over the wave. The bow rose high in the air but came down safely on the other side. They were no more than twenty five feet from the next wall of foam. Max steered hard left and took this one just opposite the first one. His angle was too oblique and the wave hit their starboard side. Bimini Twist began sliding sideways so Max adjusted by turning to the right and gunning the motors. The boat jumped over the wave and landed without pounding and in good shape to take on the next one. Max had no choice this time. The wave was directly upon them and he was headed straight into it. He slowed down until the white water touched the bow and then goosed the gas. The boat slid right through the wave. It rolled right to left and left to right, but it did not buck and the motion was tolerable. This fast moving action was approaching critical intensity. It was exhausting for Max but the adrenaline was kicking in. He was breathing hard and nervousness had overtaken him. His instinct to protect his family was overwhelming and his focus was crystal clear. He barely had time to tell everybody to hold on when it was time to set up for the next wave. The boat was turned port bow to the wave. Max did not like that. He liked the way the boat handled the last wave, straight on, so he turned hard left with full power. Up and over. Again not bad. Only three or four more waves and they would be in the protection of the calmer water. Time to set up for the next one. Why not try head on again? It seemed to work best that way. This wave was a swell. It had not broken. Max steered up the front of the wave with full power. Bimini Twist rose at a sixty degree angle. Max's heart was in his throat. Straight up. Full power moving at six or eight knots with both outboard engines completely under water. At the top of the wave the bow pitched downward and the boat rocketed forward to twenty knots. No time to react. Straight down the back of the wave and nose into the next one. Fast and inevitable, the six foot breaker crashed over the bow of the boat. Green water slid over the bow and gunwales and across the deck. The boat was now a ton heavier and running low in the water. It was sluggish and difficult to maneuver. Max used all his strength to steer to the right. Full power again and smash port quarter into the next breaker. The weight of the boat was now not so easily pushed around and Bimini Twist rode smoothly through the white water and gently down its back. The water inside the boat was ankle deep and Max was not certain they would not sink. As long as the motors were running he was going to keep fighting for survival. One more wave, maybe two, and they could start relaxing. The best results had come from the head on approach, so that is what Max did. Like a ramrod with a giant wedge in front, the boat plowed through the wall of foam throwing salt water spray in each direction and over the windshield, and then emerged on the other side. Hundreds of gallons of water sloshed around inside the boat. The next two waves were mere three footers that Max took first to the left and then to the right. In the calmer water of the Abaco Sea, Max throttled up. “Gaffer, move that ice chest away from the scuppers. Clear the area so the water can run off. Honey, come sit here by me. We're safe and you can relax.” “Then why don't you slow down and let us rest a minute. I'm exhausted,” said Lisa. “I'm going to slow down as soon as this water runs off. The scuppers are pouring water and the bilge pumps are in high gear. Two minutes and we'll be out of the woods.” At fifteen knots Bimini Twist cruised to safety. Things were returning to normal. Gaffer collected the life jackets and Lisa and P.J. returned to the jump seat. Max slowed down to ten knots to take a breather. He was exhausted and his normally tan face was drained of color. “I need a break,” he said. “I really need to shut down for a little while and catch my breath. How about we toss the anchor and just rest. Maybe have a late lunch and a swim. This is the most beautiful water in the world. Let's enjoy it.” Gaffer sprayed down the inside of the boat with the fresh water rinse and then sprayed himself. Everybody took a turn showering and soon they settled down to a quiet meal. After lunch P.J. and Gaffer practiced their flips off the bow, while Max and Lisa sat holding hands on the jump seat. Lisa's motion sickness had left her and she was feeling happy and safe. Max's adrenaline rush had left and he was exhausted. Relief overcame him as he lay down for a brief siesta. |
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