Deal Island, Labor Day Weekend- Part II- Sinking Skipjack

For over 30 years now, I have watched the annual Labor Day Skipjack Races as a land-lubbing spectator.  I’ve always wanted to see it from the water, and I’m not really sure why I never have.  This was the year all that changed.

My friend, waterman Captain Danny Benton extended an invitation to my son Blair and I to join him on his workboat.  This was an opportunity I couldn’t resist.  Danny is a highly skilled captain, evident even in the marina by the effortless manner in which he whipped his 72-year old workboat in and out of the slip.  We launched from Wenona at 8 AM, accompanied by his friend and first mate Mo Bussinck, Mo’s parents, brother, and her brother’s girlfriend.  And a nice laid-back crew it was.  No surprise, the wind was whipping at 20-25 knots from the south, resulting in 4-5 ft waves as the wind opposed the tide.  After heading north to the Deal Island harbor, Capt. Danny was summoned by phone to provide a tow to skipjack “City of Crisfield”, piloted by his uncle and oldest skipjack captain, Art Daniels, a.k.a. “Daddy Art”.  It was an honor to just be a passenger as we pulled the skipjack out of harbor, past the bagpipe player giving it all he had.

I had always wondered exactly how the race worked.  From land, it often appeared as a haphazard tangle of skipjacks scurrying in every direction.  Once explained by Capt. Danny at sea, it all began to take form and to make sense..  Running with the wind, the boats initially made quick time to the first turn.  After making the turn and now facing the steady heavy wind, things quickly got interesting.  Powered only by sail, these working craft, all 11 (actually 14 were afloat) racers were forced to tack in order to gain ground.  The various skipjack captains chose different strategies for this section of the race.  City of Crisfield held a decent lead through the first turn and then for awhile longer, but was overtaken on his way to et 2^nd turn at Wenona.  Eventually, Daddy Art’s sail developed a tear, and we were treated to him singing over the marine radio as he withdrew from the race.

As we accompanied the leading skipjacks rounding the 2^nd turn, Capt. Danny noticed one of eth skipjacks, “Kathryn” sitting low to the water and speculated from a distance that it was taking on water.  A quick approach to Kathryn confirmed the Captain’s fear.  Not only was Kathryn taking on water, she was quickly sinking.  The recreational crew of perhaps 20-25 head had not discovered the leak until it was too late.  Their bailing efforts were quickly outpaced by the rapid on-take of water.  As Captain Danny maneuvered us closer to Kathryn in order to provide more buckets, 1^st Mate Mo had the brilliant idea to place a call directly to Deal Island fireman Ryan Evans to bring a powerful pump out to the sinking skipjack.  And now, waiting for the arrival of Ryan and the pump seemed like an eternity.  The Kathryn grew closer and closer to the water’s surface, and she began to unload some of her elder passengers to other Deal Island workboats which had flanked her for support. 
I felt nearly helpless in this situation, realizing that my efforts would have to be focused in praying for the safety of the skipjack and her crew.  And as I prayed, I was relieved to see the pump arriving.  The fire department boat was just in time.  After about 20 minutes of pumping, it was clear that the pump was making headway in ridding Kathryn’s hull of saltwater.  Captain Danny continued to accompany Kathryn to the harbor’s approach.  I can attest to the fact that, had it not been for the quick thinking of Mo, this story would have had an ugly ending.  A call to 911 rather than   directly to Ryan would have cost precious time, likely more than Kathryn had to spare.

I am so grateful for Captain Danny having us aboard for this race.  Even without the near sinking, this was an experience I will forever remember.  And I hope that it won’t be my last race to view from sea.  But I do hope that it will be the last one in which I witness a skipjack almost sink.

Deal Island, Labor Day Weekend- Part I

Since this venture was effectively the end of my 2011 bottom-fishing efforts, this post will serve as a de facto re-cap of my 2011 bottom-fishing experience.  No two years are the same, that’s for sure.  But when you string together multiple years, patterns may emerge. 

Labor Day weekend typically signals an almost immediate transition in fishing conditions, largely connected with shorter days, cooler air temps, and rapidly dropping water temperatures.  This particular Labor Day was immediately preceded the week before by hurricane Irene, the impact of which was really no more than a typical Nor’easter.  However, we got a lot of rain, lots of wind, cooler temps- and everything fishing-wise changed.  And true to form for this summer, when I got down to Deal Island to fish, the wind blew, and blew, and then it blew harder.  Our one mid-day outing framing the high tide yielded just two 10.5-inch hardhead.  Location and depth seemed to mean little, the fish simply either weren’t there or weren’t biting.

Looking back at the summer and my previous blogs, the following is what I can conclude:  1) We got a seriously late start due to involvement with the new camper and major problems with the boat engine.  So, we missed an entire month of fishing on the early end of the season.  Although I’m not sure what that first month would have yielded, it is typically a time in which the waterman’s crab pots fill up with croakers.  Also, the largest croakers tend to show up here.  That said, I cannot recall a year in which I have failed to catch fish greater than 14-15 inches in length.  2) The wind blew harder and more frequently than I can ever recall.  Countless trips were either aborted or ended early.  Night-fishing never materialized, as I have a healthy respect for safety on the water, and I know that fishing rough water on my 17.25-foot boat requires all of my senses and concentration.  Night fishing can be great, but it’s foolish to try to fight the weather while doing it.  3)  This was a hot, dry, summer- period.  I can report that I do not recall water temps being as consistently high as I have observed them to be this year.  For most of the summer, surface water temps were 85-90F, sometimes greater.  I can only guess that dissolved oxygen levels were lower as a result, since oxygen is less soluble in warmer water.  I can say that I have not been seeing as many fish on my depth finder, particularly schooled fish.  That may be a subjective observation, but I believe it to be true.  4) My fishing opportunities were many.  I was down at Deal Island most every weekend from mid-June until mid-August.  And each time, I was usually able to get out on the water twice.  Compared to years past, that adds up to a lot of fishing opportunities.  But, were they quality opportunities?  They should have been, but if you factor in the conspiring elements of weather (wind and temperature), timing, etc- the answer is=  perhaps not.  Overall, comparing this year to years past- I fished more and caught less.  Although I did not blog or journal my efforts last year, I also noticed a decline in my catch- enough so that I reported it to the Maryland DNR, for which they replied with some interesting perspectives.  My conclusion- the Chesapeake is indeed in trouble.  Whether it be sedimentation or nutrification, fishing is getting worse and not better. 

I cannot help believe that the fishing (success rate) is a barometer of the health of the Bay.  The theory that these are natural cycles holds some water, until you take a wider view and consider that the sea trout are gone, the oysters are all but gone, the crabs are fewer, etc.  For many years now, in terms of fishing in the Tangier Sound area I have decided to pick the low-hanging fruit.  This is what I grew up on- loading coolers with sea trout just by dropping cut soft crabs in 45 ft of water.  This transitioned to croaker in the last 2 decades, and for awhile it was easy picking.   Heck, why should I chase Rockfish by trolling or jigging when I can only keep two fish?  Or why should I chase the illusive speckled trout, only to be able to land a single 15-inch fish?  What about Drum?  They’re not really good to eat, but I have never caught a big one.  Bluefish?  Yuck.  I’m not sure what the answer is, but I can say that due to other commitments for the next two months, my 2011 fishing efforts have all but concluded.   So, I have plenty of time to consider what’s next and to dream of 2012.  I’m lucky that my wife let my son and I go fishing as often as she did.  I’ll consider myself even luckier if my job allows me to stay here after this year, as I have recently learned that my department is transferring to Nebraska.