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Composite story

2109 Views 61 Replies 28 Participants Last post by  tracker
This is a weird idea but it might work. Lets all write a story together. About fishing .. at the coast .. with your buddies .. summertime?

Hope this works ... have fun.

So lets all work on a short story with fishing as the topic. I'll start it off and you add whatever you want. The hard part is finishing it. And write about what you know it works better.

Arggh, blank page.

The TA meeting ended around 10:30 as the last dog stumbled out to the bus stop. He was too lit to drive and would have to remember tomorrow that he did not drive to Santana's but that was tomorrow. He would also have to remember which boat to get on at Depoe bay.

The alarm went off at 0230 and Martin rubbed his eyes, rolled out and tripped over his sea bag in the dark. "Christ .. I have to drive for two hours", he mumbled to himself. "Too bad I wasn't ready to go last night .. I could have caught a ride". With his old friend Joe in a cup he browsed the Salty Dogs board and the SST site, printed out some maps and posts containing recent reports and waypoints and got ready to leave. The Steven Hawking weather forecast droned on in the background.

'Today ... north wind 5 knots, seas 3 feet, wind waves 1 foot ...'

"Awesome, flat ocean . how lucky can a guy get?" Martin mused out loud.

Three hours later he stopped in Newport at the all night mexican place for some breakfast and a bag lunch. The other guys from the boat were already there and they began the friendly joking around they had all become used to.

Your turn ...
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Then he got a whiff of some really bad cigar smoke. He looked across the boat ramp, and saw a big aluminum boat being backed down the ramp. Could that be......
Then he got a whiff of some really bad cigar smoke. He looked across the boat ramp, and saw a big aluminum boat being backed down the ramp. Could that be......
KETA :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock: :bigshock:
"Checklist," he mumbled to himself. "I gotta make a checklist." Mumble, mumble, "Lessee, tackle bag, raingear, life jacket, Avet, ...." mumble, mumble.

The stuff was heavy and awkward, and he tripped over the raingear suspenders twice on his way down the dock, spilling what coffee he had left. No biggie, it was almost cold anyway, and he could feel the acid working at his stomach. Working his stomach just like the salt smell did, churning his gut in anticipation of the first few swells at the bar, an uneasy marriage of tide, swell, and the boat wakes they would chase out to the killing fields.

"Ice," he muttered, "I forgot ice. I've gotta make a checklist."

so he sent his partner up to get ice ,with the ice tossed in the cooler ,his deckhand backed him and the boat into the water ! oh no ! he rememberd he left the plug in the truck. did the only thing he could and started plugging the hole with his ice ,calling out for his buddy in vain to bring down the plug fast!,3 bags of ice later and 50 gallons of water in his boat, his buddy comes down.....
Re: Composite story *DELETED*

Post deleted by Aqua-Holic
As he loaded the last of the gear on the boat, and was untieing the last line to the dock he heard somebody call for a bar report. He paused as he waited for the Coast Guard, ........ CG to vessel please go to CH22 and repeat, He stumbled into the cabin to get the radio on CH22 so he could hear the report. The CG was saying 2 and 4 at the tips, occasional 5 footer, winds South 10-15. He cursed the South wind and what it does to the ocean. :smash: :smash:

As he bumped the boat in gear,
First stop on the way out was Zodiac's live bait barge! Throw on a coulpe scoops on chovies. Turn on the oxygen system and give the little guys a boost. We will need everyone of those guys today, he thought. Just then he swallowed the last of the cigar. Choke choke!
Once the bait well were full Martin grabbed the helm, threw the throttles forward and headed towards the 61 spot as indicated on the SST as being the most likely blue water in the area. The sea was sloppy and a thick fog began to roll in along the designated course line. That late greasy breakfast, acidy coffee and last minute cigar began to take their toll....
"Horizon....... concentrate on the horizon......"

He tried to clear his head, if only in a desperate attempt to calm his uneasy stomach. "Nothing like starting the day turning your gut inside out!" he muttered to himself.

Then like that, the feeling was forgotten. A call from the port side.... "Jumpers!!!!"
it was a false alarm....the US Army Golden Knights parchute team was just out at 10,000ft and jockeying for position in what looked to be a practice jump before the Rose Festival the following weekend. Apparently, the SGT charged with leading the team had a place in Newport and had long dreamed of a jump that terminated with a soft touch down on the sands of the Oregon coast. It was quite a sight. "Back to the task at hand", Martin told himself..."must make it past the outer buoy without greening up".

No more cigar/burrito breakfast combo meals.

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As he crossed the 40 fathom line, he couldn't help but get a tingle on the back of his neck, and the nagging feeling that perhaps he should stop and throw a line in the water, and pick up a quick smiley. It was one of those days you love to see on the inside with clearly defined rips, and bait on the edges. Big flocks of birds diving on the water(and not shearwaters either, but murres and tufted puffins) made Martin confident that the black mouths were there to be had.

But the plan this day called for other species. The offshore canyons and temperature breaks beckoned. Blue water, torpedoes, and the rythmic slapping of an albacore tail in the cockpit.

Setting the autopilot to make a fairly direct heading to 124/45, Martin slowly eased the engines up to 4500 RPM, adjusted the trim tabs, checked the plotter, sounder and VHF to make sure everything was dialed in, and then stared intently ahead. The antcipation for the start of the trip was now past, but the anticipation of the days first blood was now starting to set in....
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The radio came alive..... Any Salty Dogs on 67?.... This is the Black Rocket....

Black Rocket, Black Rocket, this is Kenai, go ahead....

Kenai, this is the Black Rocket, are you on the fish yet?....

Naw, we thought we saw some jumpers but it was a false alarm, we're just inside the 61... Where are you at KJ?

I'm about 5 miles outside Tuna town and the water is boiling... We had a triple and boated them all.... Purple Black and it's wide open...

We're on our way....

He Noses her down and opens her up. The long fins are on the chew and they are only 15 miles away.... He bites down on the stub of his cigar and grins as he takes a 277 course...
Anticipation washes over the crew as they charge towards the radio fish...
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As he came onto plane, the anticipation was for full fish boxes. Behind him though, was one of the largest scools of tuna just rising up from the deep after some rest and they were hungry! If he had looked back the disturbed ocean he saw would not have all been caused by his prop. But that is how radio fish are. The ocean is always bluer on the other side of the radio!
As he kept one eye on the compass the other caught motion off the port bow ahead, it was a few birds working a patch of water. Not a lot of birds, but a couple birds kept circling a tight area, he altered course a few degrees to get closer. Martin spots a few bull kelp in the water as he gets closer. But there is something larger in the water, what the heck is that dark thing he keeps seeing between swells. As he gets within a couple swells, he realizes it is a pallet and some other debri caught in a rip line. He pulls back on the throttle a little as he surveys the area, a quick check of the temperature shows 57.4 degrees but he has to add a couple degrees to the display, plastic jesus themometer has been off a couple degrees since he first got the contraption, so he concludes he is in 59.4 degree water. Warm enough he mumbles as he pops his knuckles to loosen his hands up for what could lay ahead...
....but what lay ahead was the cruelest joke imaginable.

Martin woke up in his bed, soaked in sweat. He was in disbelief. He looked at the clock...... 5:17 am. The dream had lasted over 4 hours....and it was so real, the smells & sounds, he was still in denial. Was this some sort of omen? Was this the mother of all "deja vu's" ? He sat up in bed....his wife grumbled "what's the matter honey"? All he could say was "I can't go in to work today.....I just can't"

He felt both giddy and sick. Could this be what the salty dogs spoke of? This tuna affliction? He always thought the "12 step program" was just a cute joke. Now he realized it was no joke....it was real. And like the heroin addict, he needed a fix soon.

He got up and wandered around the house, not knowing what to do. He just knew he had to get out tuna fishing somehow. Then the idea hit him....."I wonder if anyone from i-fish is offering rides"....so he logged on & started perusing the posts. And there it was, an offer from a guy named_______________________
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at first he finds an open seat with Tracker, but decides the whole eating heart thing, :sick: and that dead blow hammer :hoboy: is going to do more damage to his fish than he cares to stomache :rolleyes:

He sees an open post by a newbie, never heard of "icebreaker" before, :shrug: but he says he has a nice boat, radar, chart plotter, new power, all the fixins and picture of a really cool looking boat. :dance:

His first thought is not pretty when the wife gets thru painting a verbal picture of internet predators and axe murders, Martin tells the wife as his eyes glaze over, he is going to risk it, he has to get to the tuna even if it kills him.

Martin is no dummy, he checks the thread called, "Know your captain" and ponders what kind of skill this guy has. He calls Icebreaker and has a long chat, ask for references from other guys he has fished with and ask if he can come by and look the boat over, meet the captain etc...

The 100 ton master license with the captain gave him the warm fuzzy feelings he had been hoping to get. After an afternoon of checking out the boat, the trailer, the gear and realizing everything looked up to snuff, Martin heads home to tell the wife its all good. He finds his wife changing his life insurance policy, and she is talking about the good times ahead of her. :wink:

The plan was to meet at 4:00 am at the dock the following Saturday.
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Mack Mc. rescently talked Liprip'r into getting a new Sabi craft 31 fter .
The plan is to buddy up and make the long run together for safty and help finding fish .
Lip had only been tuna fishing once, but had fallen in head first, purchased a new Sabi loaded it with goodies and had Mark Mc lined up for its madin voyage and hopfully first blood.
As Martin approached the designated meeting spot he smells that cigar agin. Martin stopped to pinch himself. "Am I dreaming still "
Nah its just Puffin getting ready for his day on the water... Martin was a tad early just like any good boat ho should be and got his gear together, put on his bibs and extratuffs... started to drag everything down to the ramp but he kept having this feeling he was forgetting something...
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