Article by Capt. Franky Pettolina
So there I was bent over my dock box at the Ocean City Fishing Center. Mr. Evans was securing additional mooring lines to our stern cleats for the coming of whatever remains of Hurricane Dorian after it passes through the Carolinas this evening. I was supervising.
Right about the time I was telling Mr. Evans to cinch it up a little tighter, a pickup truck pulled into the far side of the parking lot and I heard someone yelling. “JoJo! Hey JoJo! JoJo Joachimowski is that you?!?!” Mr. Evans and I commenced to laughing.
Back in my traveling days, the Mexican dockhands used to call JoJo “Oso Grande” and in turn I was “Oso Pequeno.” Big Bear and Little Bear. Nowadays, I still call Capt. Jojo “Papa Bear”. Apparently whoever it was in the parking lot could not tell that it was Boo-Boo bent over the dock box and not Yogi. (this may be the first time in the history of the Coastal Fisherman that Yogi Berra and Yogi Bear were referenced in back to back issues). Before I could turn and see who it was they pulled away saying something about me looking like Jojo from behind.
As luck would have it, Papa Bear gave me a call this afternoon to talk about some Ocean City Marlin Club things and I was able to tell him about the mistaken identity. We had a good chuckle about how we both have remarkably identifiable backsides. Jojo said something about my backside being more bewhiskered than his, to which I replied that mine was suitably hidden from view even though I was bent at an odd angle over the dock box.
As much as I am sure you are all hoping that this will be an entire column about Jojo’s and my cabooses, I will have to disappoint you. Sorry Sir Mix A Lot. Not this week.
What I am going to write about did take place back when I was known as “Oso Pequeno” however. The year was 1998. I was working on a boat called the “Inger.” She was a beautiful fifty seven foot Custom Carolina hull built by Ricky Scarborough in Wanchese, North Carolina. The boat was named after the wife of the owner (Tom) and the crew was the owner’s son (Eddie) and yours truly. We had just finished up a four month stint in Cancun, Mexico fishing almost exclusively for sailfish. Without pulling out my old log book, I am going to guess that we had caught several hundred while we were there. Tom and Inger would fly in for half of each month and we would fish whenever the seas were relatively calm (the winter months can be choppy where the Caribbean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico meet). The other half of the month would involve fishing with other family members or guests that would fly in for vacation or partying when we weren’t fishing. Life bordered on perfection. Sun, sailfish, and Cervezas! What else could you want?
If you were to ask Tom, it would be a simple two word answer. Blue marlin! About halfway though our stay in Mexico, Tom grew tired of catching forty pound sails on twenty pound tackle. He wanted something that would pull harder and test his angling prowess. Capt. Eddie and I tried to satiate his appetite with trips to Arrowsmith Bank to catch some tunas and wahoos, but it just wasn’t enough. Thankfully, the next destination on our calendar was well known for blue marlin in the springtime. I am talking about de Bahamas Mon! (too bad there is not a rasta font!)
Yup, we were scheduled for a five week tour of the islands. The first week would be spent gambling and entertaining Inger, Tom and some of Tom’s business associates in Paradise Island in Nassau. Following that though, we were going to get serious about chasing blue marlin. We had almost a month scheduled between Marsh Harbor and Harbour Island. My cockpit bait freezer was loaded with large Spanish mackerel and horse ballyhoo. We put away most of our lighter tackle, keeping only two small rods out for pitch baits in case a white marlin or sailfish would show up in our spread. The big guns were all loaded and we were going to get Tom something to pull on!
On the morning of our first day fishing out of Harbour Island, Tom had an air of excitement about him that I had not seen in quite a while. He looked at me and said, “Time for something other than sailfish!” I put the spread out and Eddie had us trolling through a scattered weed edge in some beautiful cobalt blue water. Not ten minutes into our search something grabbed the right teaser. Tom and I sprung into action. And then Tom stopped. The fish behind the teaser showed itself and its partner showed itself on the left teaser. A doubleheader of sailfish!!! Tom was disgusted and told me not to bother. But I reminded him that we would need these sails to complete a Grand Slam later after we had caught a blue marlin or two, so Tom reluctantly wound in one sail and I wound in the other. Thankfully they came in quickly and we could get back to hunting marlin.
Our next bite was a marlin. It was not the blue that Tom had been waiting months for however. It was a white marlin. Since it was not yet lunchtime, I reminded Tom that this would be another piece of our puzzle that we would need for the Grand Slam after we caught his blue later in the day. Tom made quick work of the white marlin and we had two thirds of a Grand Slam. It was spring time in the Bahamas. I was confident that we would get a shot at a Slam that day.
Well we did. But not with the blue marlin that Tom so desperately desired. A longbilled spearfish came to our left teaser and I was able to hook it up, but for only a brief moment before the hook pulled during a series of jumps. Thus the day ended with the same amount of blue marlins as we had coming into it. I was not worried though. We had a few weeks left and it was spring time in the Bahamas.
It was a wonderful couple of weeks in the Bahamas. I made friends with the local crews and enjoyed the company of the youngsters that hung around the docks. The biggest king mackerel I have ever caught happened on the third or fourth fishing day. Lots of big mahi. More barracudas than I cared to catch. I developed quite the appetite for cracked conch and cold Kalik beer. What I did not do however was find any blue marlin for Tom. Some other sails and whites were caught, but after the first week even they went away. The local boats switched to chumming and chunking for yellowfin tuna instead of trolling for marlin. Tom declared the trip a bust. Well not really. We were in a beautiful chain of islands with friendly people and an almost fairy tale atmosphere. Just no blue marlin.
As I am sure you are aware, this awful hurricane has wrought havoc in the places I just mentioned. In the coming weeks there will be a multitude of opportunities to contribute to the rebuilding of these islands and to aid their residents. I ask you to keep an eye out for one that is within your means and give whatever you can. As this column is being written, some of the friends I made in those days twenty years ago lost everything they had overnight just a little over twenty hours ago. We all need to do what we can to help them out.
Capt Franky Pettolina is Co-Captain of the charter boat, “Last Call”, owner of Pettolina Marine Surveying, Inc. and multi-term President of the Ocean City Marlin Club. If you would like to book a charter on the “Last Call”, please call 443-783-3699 or 410-251-0575.
