Written By: Brian Worthmann, Editor, The County Woman Magazine

“We’re Not In South Jersey Anymore!...”

Down in the Florida Keys, there is a small marina on the island Islamorada with a fifty foot fishing boat docked bobbing in the small Florida Keys waves. A small white sign above it that read “Killer White” sounded a lot more dangerous than it looked in its Floridian paradise. So when I was told we were going 15 miles off shore to fish for dolphin, I had a feeling today would be awesome.

The day we went out with this charter boat, we had blue skies, warm Florida air, and an occasional face full of the 85°F saltwater spray. On our way out to sea, we were given a brief overview on ocean fishing, and also given a tour of the boat. The cabin was air conditioned and had plenty of seating. While the bathroom wasn’t quite big enough for a lounge, the three-floor boat was a behemoth compared to the 16”bass fishing boat I’m used to in South Jersey.

After the tour, I spent some time just enjoying the ocean’s views. Then I became curious how we were going to pull a dolphin in, and what we were going to do with the gentle creature I had in mind. As it turns out, ‘dolphin’ actually refers to a bright yellow, green, and blue fish with a big, flat-faced head, commonly sold in restaurants under one of its many other names, Mahi- Mahi. Depending on the size, we intended to keep the fish to be filleted by the captain and cooked by a local restaurant.

The time of year we stayed in the Keys should have been prime season for dolphin, as the captain explained to me. By 10AM we should have caught the limit (10 dolphins per person). Unfortunately, I didn’t remember packing my terrible fishing luck for this trip, but it seems that I brought it along. This year, the dolphin population was scarcer than any local can ever remember happening before. The captain scanned the horizon with his binoculars, looking for any sign of birds, which typically indicate the presence of fish. The birds’ flight patterns were an indication of what kind of fish they were near. The only thing we (and the birds) could find were pockets of fish called Skipjack Tuna, which I was told were not worth the time and energy to catch one.

Through patience and persistence, our captain finally found a school of dolphin around 3PM. The hours we spent in the warm Florida sun, lounging around enjoying the smell of the ocean quickly and abruptly came to an end. The captain and his deckhand jumped into action, adrenaline coursing through their veins. “Left rigger, left rigger,” I distinctly remember the captain shouting, as the deckhand bounded over the seats to set the hook. Then he handed me the pole.

I had never caught a fish bigger than three or four pounds since South Jersey lakes and small rivers don’t offer much more than that. So I was used to just reeling the fish in, and if he fought back a little, then I’d have a good story to tell later. This fish was much different. While I could see the fish jump out of the water about 100 ft away, I still would have sworn that I had Moby Dick on my line. Two more rods were hooked, and the entire deck was ablaze in excitement for these long-awaited fish.

The twenty minutes it took to reel in our fish felt like I had just re-enacted Ernest Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea.

We finally landed our fish, and for the first time, I saw how beautiful these fish were, with their vibrant colors and gorgeous scales. After our battle, I was exhausted, but we were all triumphant. We never did find another school of these fish, but the 70 lbs of dolphin we caught were more than enough to feed us all a few straight weeks of fish for dinner.

On our way back in, we stopped for a dip in the water near coral reefs. The water felt like a heated pool, and were it not for the gentle waves, I could have mistaken it for one. We snorkeled and saw the diverse life in the reefs – a wonderful sight I won’t soon forget.

By the time we returned to land, we were thrilled and exhausted from the day’s events. After the dolphin steaks were prepared, we headed right over to a local restaurant, and had it cooked seven different ways – every one of which was delicious. Thus concluded our fishing adventure for the day, the story of which I will never forget.

Thank You, Lynn...

Brian