Martza Majstoravich

I saved one G to attend this offshore school offered through NCSU, my alma mater, out of Hatteras, NC. It was awesome and worth the money. It consisted of two days offshore and two and a half days of classroom training.

The first night was a welcome party. Afterwards everyone went to the local mom & pop store for beers. Me included. Plus some cheesedoodles.

(My room: I rented a suite. I really just wanted a king-size bed, I didn’t know the $110 a night was for a suite. I walked in and didn’t see the bed and got mad as hell. Then I realized it was in the other ROOM. Nice.)

The first day was classroom work. We heard a lecture from the Marine Fisheries rep (he was hot, I had a mad crush on him), and we learned about conservation. This was preaching to the choir though because most people there seemed conscientious- although some young kid asked how to cook Blue Marlin. Dumbass. It’s a game fish: catch and release. He almost got jumped after that session.

At lunch, I befriended four older men from Virginia who probably should have compacted out of the class. Two of them were officials for offshore tourneys, so they had plenty of experience deep sea fishing.

The afternoon session was the best. We were shown how to rig ballyhoo, and we picked one from a bucket. We were given wire, copper wire, newspaper, and a hook. We were taught the haywire twist, and we made two, one was used for securing the hook. We twisted the wire, breaking it by using its inherent qualities. It heats up when it gets bent, and then it breaks.

Next we broke the back of the ballyhoo and squirted out the contents of the stomach. (I would get experience with this the next day.) We had to break the back because otherwise the ballywoo would “helicopter” when you trolled. And that doesn’t look very lifelike: fish don’t spin.

Next we slid the hook through the gills underneath so that the hook sticks out just below the belly. The shank stays inside the cavity. The copper wire is used to secure the ballywoo’s beak to the leader.

Don, one of the ”ringers” from Virginia, showed me how the people on Hatteras rigged them. He poked my fishy’s eyes out with a pencil and ran the copper wire through the little tunnel created, he used this to secure the hook. I was pissed he poked out the eyes. I looked at it when he was done. “What about the eyes? They go for the eyes for some reason.” (I knew this because Amberjack (not to eat- nasty) were hitting some whole squid I was dangling off the back of my scuba instructor’s boat. They went for the eyes first.) So I shoved the eyes back in, but they were upside down, so my fish looked a little odd. I went around showing people. The rest of that afternoon I was given a wide girth.

We went to dinner at a local restaurant, and I had some kind of fish. We were drinking and I still have no idea who paid for my meal.

The next morning was our first offshore excursion. I brought two bottles of water and pretzel rods and orange peanut butter crackers. I travel light.

We were assigned to teams. I was with Don, Chuck, and another man from NC. The other female and her husband were on our boat too. Our boat was called the Big Tahuna. The couple loaded our boat with coolers and grocery bags upon grocery bags of food. Unbelieveable.

Don cracked his first beer at 8:00 am. On the dot.

Anywho, on the way out, I watched the mate rig ballyhoo, big mistake. After that no amount of watching the horizon helped. Right before we started trolling, the female went to the head and was sick. I was sick off the back of the boat above the tuna door. Or I was chumming. Five minutes later we had the first strike. The mate handed me the rod, I wanted to set the hook, but he did already. I got in the fighting chair and started cranking. Pull up, reel down. I knew from the Spanish Fly not to let my tuna sound so I kept the tip of my rod up. (Don’t let him get his head down- it rejuvenates him, and then it is all over, he makes another run. Not cool.) I think it took me twenty minutes to reel him in, he was a 52 lb yellowfin. Beautiful. I kissed him.

Don took my picture getting sick, and he took my picture with my fish. He framed it for me, and when I find where I put it from the move, I will post it. He thought I would be embarrassed; hell, I had that up in my classroom.

We had more strikes. I waited for my turn again. The female stayed in the cabin since she was sick. Big mistake. I was sick every 20 minutes or so, but I stayed out there. I was getting my money’s worth, and I wasn’t a sissy. Oddly enough, I felt better sitting on the back of the boat, even though I was smelling diesel fumes.

When we got back in, we found one of Don’s friends. He was sloshed at one of the marina bars. He said his boat went out, but when someone on his boat hooked a tuna, the mate gaffed herself trying to land it. The trip ended early since she had to go to the ER. I was confused; I thought that was what 8 lb test was for? Stitch it up, pack it with a blue surgical rag, and bandage it up with duct tape. No reason to call it a day. Or- hold it over the side- chum!

We went out to eat again. This time I got chicken nuggets and didn’t drink. I saw hottie at the bar and tried to run game on him but it didn’t work. Maybe he didn’t need to know about the seasick story. I just thought it showed how dedicated I am. Oh well. I did get lots of props for being a good sport despite being seasick.

The next day it was raining, and they cancelled the afternoon surfish class. I was disappointed because I lugged my 10′ Shakespeare surf rod and 50 lb tackle box with me. (I’ll attach pictures. I gave the rod to an assistant coach.) The morning was spent in fish identification classes. I nailed that one since I read the Audubon Saltwater Fish and Mammals book when I was in third grade.

After class, which ended early, I went to a tackle shop and got some Calcutta wire, 2 1/2 lb anchor weights, and a few Sea Striker plugs. I like Gotcha plugs too, but I like to support manufacturers from home.

The next day was spent offshore. I felt queasy at first, but then recovered. We didn’t have as much action as we did the first day. We were on a different boat this time. I can’t recall the name. I don’t remember much about this trip until about lunchtime when Don pulled out…. a BANANA. We almost threw him overboard. There is a myth which says no fish will be caught if someone has a banana on board. It was actually in Sport Fishing Magazine back in 2001 I think.

The local fire department had a cook-out for us and that night we had awards. Awards went out to the biggest catch, most catches, and most points. Even though our first day was spectacular, the banana ruined our second, so we had no chance of winning anything. The winning catch was a Blue Marlin. I wish I’d seen it. That night I said goodbye to the guys I met. I actually got teary-eyed about it because they looked out for me.

I felt the whole trip was a success. I learned a lot. Plus I realized I knew my stuff about saltwater fishing. The best part about the whole experience was that I felt closer to my grandfather, a longshoreman, who died ten years before the trip. I love everything about the ocean, and when I die, I want to be chummed.