After last week’s fun stories, it got my brain remembering even more humorous adventures.
When I first moved back to Delaware in 2000, George, my neighbor across the street, was a tough, old Norwegian who had run tug boats in New York Harbor for more than 40 years. A few doors down was Al from New York who had retired from IBM. Both have now gone on to their great reward.
At the time, I owned a 24-Albemarle, the Gimli, and was still running charters. The sea bass fishing was pretty good at the Old Grounds and out around A Buoy. At the time, we were not bothered by a 13-inch minimum size.
I must admit, I don’t remember how it came about, but Al and George ended up on my boat on a fun trip one beautiful summer day.
We launched the Gimli at Indian River and ran out to the Old Grounds. The fishing began with everyone hooked up, but unfortunately for Al, his first drop would be his last. He cranked up a doubleheader of sea bass between fits of upchucking and then dry heaves. From then on, he just sat on the engine box with what we call the death stare.
His face was pale white. His eyes were looking straight ahead but not seeing anything, and he didn’t speak. Meanwhile, George and I were steady filling the cooler with sea bass.
When it came time for lunch, I broke out my usual peanut butter and jelly sandwich, while George had what looked like egg salad. After he took a couple of bites, he shoved the egg salad dripping with mayo and smelling as only egg salad can under Al’s nose and said, “Hey, Al, ya want a bite?”
Now I would have bet heavy odds that Al didn’t have anything left in his stomach. I would have lost. He dropped to his knees and began to throw up over the side until he hit the dry heaves again. After this, he returned to his perch on the engine box and regained the death stare.
Of course, Al was not the first nor the last one to suffer from mal de mer while fishing.
Back in Virginia Beach, when I had my TV show on the local CBS channel, my cameraman, Mike Bibbo, suffered on a trip off Hatteras while filming giant bluefin. Of all days to be seasick, it was his birthday. His wife had a big dinner planned at a fancy restaurant, and when the waiter asked Mike what he wanted his reply was, “Anything but seafood.”
Even in the Navy we had seasick sailors.
On our way back from the Mediterranean, we encountered a North Atlantic storm that had green water running down the flight deck of the U.S.S. Saratoga. Secondary Control, or Sec Con, is located in the bow under the flight deck, and under these conditions, you are first looking at the sky, then you are under water. The Sec Con commander requested an electronics technician, and one of our youngest volunteered. Shortly thereafter, two radiomen came bringing him back, one under each of his arms, asking if we had an ET with a bit of rougher weather experience.
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Eric Burnley is a Delaware native who has fished and hunted the state from an early age. Since 1978 he has written countless articles about hunting and fishing in Delaware and elsewhere along the Atlantic Coast. He has been the regional editor for several publications and was the founding editor of the Mid-Atlantic Fisherman magazine. Eric is the author of three books: Surf Fishing the Atlantic Coast, The Ultimate Guide to Striped Bass Fishing and Fishing Saltwater Baits. He and his wife Barbara live near Milton, Delaware. Eric can be reached at Eburnle@aol.com.
