Tampa, Florida					Monday, September 06, 2010

No Cheeseburger In This Paradise
Monday, April 12, 2004
THE BRITISH VIRGIN ISLANDS—This is simply the most beautiful place in the world, Carol Barnett said the other late afternoon. She was looking all about her from the third deck of the magnificent 172-foot yacht, The Big Eagle. She was taking in the Caribbean landscape of blue waters and volcanic islands rising from the sea, some uninhabited, some instead dotted by homes and resorts waterside with all manner of water crafts in their watery front yards. The skies were blue and the clouds white, the sound only that of our yacht moving through this wonderland and birds accompanying us. The weather was warm and windy—the wind always blows there—and we are starting a three-day journey through these exotic places some 1500 miles south and east of our Florida homes. By the end of our journey through this wonderland, including both the British and neighboring U.S. Virgin Islands, no one would disagree with our host and her husband, Barney at the beauty surrounding us. Now, these are the people of Publix Super Markets, these gracious and giving Barnetts, who are qualified to make such judgments. They have been about everywhere on land and sea and in the air. She the nice-as-she-can-be daughter of Publix founder George Jenkins. She and husband Barney, parents of two teen-aged boys, are the people of great imagination. They are most successful people of business, strong on charity, of civic-spirit, loyalty to Florida, and who are matchless friends to their—well, to their friends, such as those of us on this sea-going adventure of cruising, dining, swimming, scuba diving, snorkeling, water skiing, story-telling and debating, long into the nights beneath the Southern Cross, so visible here. That was why we were there and that was what we would do for a few glorious days and nights. Now, if any among us--Linda and me, Martha and Gator Bill Tinsley, Tammy and Steve Scruggs, Marcia and Bill Vass, Terry and Steve Catsman, on that grand seagoing safari--still had any doubts about the Barnett assessment of these azure wonderlands south of Puerto Rico and the Bahamas as Eden, well, it surely would not last long, not past the next day—the first full day of the experience. The men among us were to fish a full day, and the women were to swim, stroll, snorkel and dive among the Caribbean wonderlands of the dazzling volcanic rock formation and beaches and palm tree lands that make up these rare island formations. The women adventurers saw the fish and a few ship wrecks underneath the waters. The men would have themselves quite a next day with Capt. Red Bailey and mate Ariel Donovan aboard the 44-foot sportsman, Abigail III. The Abigail, over 30 years is home and workplace for fishing guru Capt. Red, who took us aboard from The Big Eagle, once the flagship of the Anheuser-Busch fleet, from our first night mooring place in Frances Bay, a harbor perhaps 50 miles from St. Thomas, where we had landed the prior day. It was about 9 a.m. when we set out in pursuit of dolphin, perhaps marlin or tuna, heading in the direction of St. Croix. We trolled and we trolled and we trolled, chasing birds, or any activity, and but fearing it might be one of those days, for the trolling stirred no bites. Indeed, Barney and I rolled eyes several times. After an hour, I moved up to the captain’s deck and we visited, talking of how he was the longtime boss of Abigail, and how he was trying to pay for it. He got frequent radio calls, as captains shared information. Then came a radio call telling Capt. Red to head 13 miles west and seek his friend out. He was finding fish, and we could join him. In-charge Barney Barnett okayed the plan, but soon, came another call. Another friendly captain said he was into the dolphin, or mahi mahi, three miles northward. We changed courses, of course. The boat came into sight of the captain and his fishing clients. They were busy. The dolphin were all about and jumping, but his anglers weren’t having much luck. Capt. Red and mate Donovan gathered us around for an instructional session on fishing for the acrobatic and beautiful (green, yellow, silver, bonze) dolphin who travel in schools, even several schools had already assembled, and whose size in these waters, he said, would be 10-25 pounds. He gathered about students Barney and me, Bill Tinsley, the enterprising and successful parks and recreation chief of Lakeland, a former alligator trapper and outdoorsman of mettle; Steve Scruggs, the director of economic development for Lakeland, best in the past at catching trash fish, by his own assessment, but who had youth on his side and hair that was never, ever mussed; Bill Vass, the brainy former Publix ideaman who was reading on this Caribbean trip the Jonathan Edwards to “exercise my brain,” and a man of remarkable memory; and anchor angler Steve Catsman, a successful Telluride, Colo., developer, accomplished at skiing, diving, mountain climbing, marathoning, those Outside sports. Now, we had all fished before. But, his lesson was different. The captain was specific on the technique to use on the dolphin. First, we were using big, billfish equipment, the stuff for marlin and tuna. It was heavy and stout. Yes, there was a billfish chair in the center of the stern fishing area. But most stood, some with fishing belts and a slot for the big rod’s end. I would use both, being no strong man. The bait would be frozen yahoo, the same as for tuna there, and in Key West, for example. The rods were big and long, the line heavy, the reels big deals, very big deals. The baited fish was thrown out and if there was time, attached to an outrigger by the mate. The line was released to a marker at about 100 feet. When the released line hit the tip of the rod, instructions were to take the drag off and place your right thumb on the line on the reel. The	left hand was beneath the rod for support. When the fish struck, you were to take your right thumb off the line on the reel, and to count as the line fed outward to the fish’s pull, “one hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred, five hundred,’’ he explained. After the count of five hundred, set the hook in the fish’s mouth (pull it firmly), and reel…..reel, pump, reel. . . reeling the fish to the bow, where mate Donovan took over with his gaff. After the instructions, while the others fished, I went back up a deck to the captain’s chair. Looking back behind the boat, there they were, the big, blue dolphin, trailing our baits. Beautiful. We weren’t stalking them. They were stalking us, in big numbers. Then fish began to hit the bait in the wake waters. Some were hooked, some got away, but most were caught. The frenzy was to go on for an hour and a half. Two more boats arrived to fish the schools. Capt. Red moved the his Abigail III, his big boat, in circles. The fish began to bite and hit each of the baits as fast as they could be put back in the water. . Our guys began to catch them, big time.. Yes. They were all from about 9 to 20 pounds. At times we had as many as four dolphins on at the same time, Tinsley, predictably, caught the first, brought him close to the bow, where Mate Donovan took the line in his bare hands, pulled the fish close, released one hand from the line and took the big glistening fish, fighting and flapping aboard and as soon as possible getting the fish off the hock and into the box on the bow. He was busy from the first bite and catch. Scruggs, particularly aggressive for a fishing opportunity for these edible fish, worked hard, very hard and he caught the most. He improved. He loved every minute of it. Vass, who is a solid angler, caught the second most. Tinsley was third. He could have been first, I am sure, had he been more aggressive for the rods. Barney and I got in late, and caught the least, perhaps three each, really, enough for us. I lost one. He broke the line, therefore, I was forgiven by Capt. Red, if not by Barnett. The busiest and most frenetic times were when we had four hookups at the same time. The hooked dolphin jumped repeatedly and moved back and forth behind the boat. That causes angler movement, some confusion, and lots of traffic on the bow in a small area. But, that’s why you fish. Mate Donovan was the busiest man aboard. Capt. Red said he taught Donovan what he knew, which was plenty. He found him, he said, sacking groceries. What a coincidence. Carol’s late dad, George Jenkins, founder of Publix, sacked groceries as a start in the food business. During the height of the dolphin encounter, Red Capt. Red, above in his chair, circled the boat, and had a line out, too, passing it down when a fish bit. He also gave instructions, loudly and forcefully to us all. Well, he’d call us out by shirt color, or hair color, whatever. He’d scream, “He’s behind your bait…..carefully. . . hit it . . .HIT IT!. . . Not that hard!’’ The captain was always right. He was good. He knew we’d not keep all the fish. He knew he’d get what we did not keep to eat, and could sell them. We caught 24 dolphin. The biggest, let’s say Barnett caught it, and it was 20 pounds. Don’t know who really caught the biggest. But, again, say Barney. He was the host on the fishing day. Carol on that day, an accomplished diver (170 feet down), was in charge of the women that day, and overall host for this experience in her favorite place, the Virgins, the BVIs, and the USVIs. The captain said a 10 pound mahi mahi would feed 10 people. Again, he said, “the dolphin, or mahi-mahi, is the most beautiful fish of all. It changes colors when landed. While appearing blue in the water, landed, its head is olive green, the body is a bright (iridescent) green-blue body with numerous spots that become a golden belly.’’ The book says, “the colors of the fish leaving the water bade and then become bright again, but in death, the fish turns grey, dull grey without coloration.’’ We saw that phenomenon and we marveled. We wanted enough mahi mahi for dinner and a couple of lunch salads. We had 12 guests in our party. We had a crew of eight—yes, eight! Class, eh? The decision was for Donovan to clean six. He had to clean them in the open water, not in a bay, so as not to attract sharks with the discarded parts. We fished for the dolphin in 1,000 feet of blue water. I had no idea it was that deep. We were moored in a bay that ranged from, oh, 15 to 35 feet. But, well, at 1,000, anything was out there. Good day, eh? And what attracted the dolphin to that spot? The captain showed us early. It was floating part of a long line net set out by Japanese. We saw three portions, multicolored floats and nets. Dolphin are included to assemble in open water “beneath, grass, for floating objects such as that,’’ said Capt Red. Doesn’t take long for such objects to attract baitfish, then barnacles, and food. It works. That is why captains look hard for birds, of any other sort of gatherings. But, with our 24 fish caught and iced, with six cleaned to be on the table for dinner that night in the third deck dining room, and with Capt. Red paid and on his way to port, with his mostly fresh fish for sale at St. Thomas, we returned to our home away from home on The Big Eagle, back in Frances Bay, in the most beautiful place in the world for feast, for fun and fixing our stories, perhaps, even a toast to this grand first day and whatever lay ahead in paradise, but surely not a cheeseburger as Key Western Jimmy Buffet might prefer. ##
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