I have always been influenced by the sea. As the story goes, even in the dead of winter, if there was a pool, a river, a lake, or the icy Atlantic...
I was in my frog suit with matching froggy flippers, making a run for it.
Purple lips and knocking knees were always the outcome but that didn't matter to me.
The water called my name.
To this day, I would be hard pressed to think of a place that I have traveled where I did not get in the water no matter the tide, current or temperature.
It's a must.
Now although I love the water...
I also fear it deeply.
A fear that is born from an atomic wedgie and a film.
The atomic wedgie happened to me in a neighborhood kid named Robbie's pool.
He and my cousin Chal were good friends. One summer day they invited me along.
Like all things with prepubescent boys... things got rough in the pool.
Next thing I know, I am on the receiving end of a two handed, overhead wedgie dunk combo.
Between the pain of the mesh netting tearing into my ass and the amount of water I was swallowing every time they lifted me and plunged me back under only to rip my juvenile crotch to bits over and over... I blacked out.
Next thing I know, I am on my back staring into panicked faces, spewing up under chlorinated pool water.
The second reason being: JAWS. Obviously.
Not because of the terror on screen... I always loved that.
The terror of one afternoon when I was 9 or so and my brother caught a Great White shark off the coast of Cape May, NJ.
We rushed down to the beach after an excited call from my dad and uncle.
The windows down in the wood paneled station wagon, screaming south.
When we arrived, the shark was suspended by it's tail and dangled in all of it's terrifying glory in the parking lot of the dock. People snapped photos, gawked, and glared. There it was.
The most feared predator in the world.
As I joined the group for a photo, fear grew inside me. Shoulders were nudging me closer and closer to the beast. It's matte grey skin still wet and shining. It's glaring white teeth bared toward the concrete.
Someone lined up the photo in the viewfinder and just before blurting out the standard "CHEESE"...
My uncle pushed the shark toward me and screamed.
I can't remember what happened next...
Maybe I pissed my pants. Maybe I shit. Maybe I cried like a little girl and ran away.
I just don't recall.
But what happened that day wasn't just a public embarrassment.
It was the birth of a fear that will stay with me for the rest of my life.
BEWARE OF GREAT WHITE SHARKS WHEN THEY ARE ON LAND!
With that being said, I am also not one for killing.
If you know me, you know I have a fair share of hunting gone awry tales in my repertoire.
SO fishing does not seem to be an activity that would rank up there on my list of hobbies.
But as it goes... Some things just happen.
Thanks to Dale's endless internet searches for the biggest, baddest, most rare and exclusive spots around the world for adrenaline junky activities... He, Steve, and I were booked in for a fishing trip in Oman.
There were links and articles being sent back and forth leading up to the trip.
This was not going to be a leisurely cast, grab a beer and watch a bobber type of trip.
This was going to be a grueling, physically intense, pain riddled, torture fest in hopes that we would land a GT (
Giant Trevally).
The trip was organized through a site called
No Boundaries Oman.
The group is run by a giant, hulking dude named Ed.
He has set up a great little spot in a tiny southern Omani town called Ashwaymiyah.
Decent villas, great boats, amazing samosas, and amazing gear.
Now we are by no means expert fisherman and we had never been popping or jigging (unless you count that time I think I pop and locked at Silk City in 2002 during a Run DMC track), but we did our reasearch and came as prepared as we possibly could.
Well... we were wrong.
Our gear was wrong, our physiques were wrong, our attitudes a bit too laid back or something... but that was basically the end of our time with Ed.
The rest of the trip was spent with 2 amazing dudes, Yasser and Mohammed, who would show us a great time.
We set out every morning before the sun was fully up. Sometimes staying in close to the coast to hit bait balls and the big boys coming in to munch on them. Other times we went out over an hour area to fish secret GT spots that were legended to be swarming with record breakers.
Most of what we got were back breakers.
CATCHES BY DAY:
DAY ONE
Puffer Fish
Black Bream
Queen Fish
Barracuda
Mahi Mahi
2 x Tuna
DAY TWO
4 x Queen Fish
DAY THREE
2x Queen Fish
Garfish
Porgy
Squid
Trigger Fish
Tuna
We battled waves, landed fish, missed fish, swam with squids and eels, saw turtles copulating, watched a Sail fish take flight, got sun burned lips, tore muscles, found muscles we never knew we had... but most of all... had an amazing time.
If you ask me now whether or not fishing is going to be a constant thing in my life...
I wouldn't know how to answer.
I guess you'll have to propose a destination that is just too good to refuse.
But like Ernest Hemingway said in
The Old Man and the Sea:
"Don't be a pussy. Live a little."
*For more photos, check out Dale's Flickr page
*Everything that came out of the sea, went right back into the
sea. No Boundaries operates a strict catch and release with barbless
hooks policy.
**With the exception of one Mahi Mahi and 2 squids. They became dinner. 
