Years ago, a major supplier for the construction company I worked for offered a charter fishing trip to the key players in the company. I really wasn't interested, but it was one of those things you do to keep up with the important hob-knobbing. I went, and it turned out to be an interesting day.
We caught a bus for Galveston. It was filled, and reinforced my reasons for not liking busses. I wasn't dressed for the cold temperature of the bus, so the trip wasn't pleasant. It took about an hour to reach the dock, we loaded up, and boat full of about 20 people headed out before daybreak.
The Galveston ship channel at sunrise can only be described as beautiful on a summer morning. In the cabin the beer drinking was starting. That, and they were making sandwiches loaded with everything including raw onion. I watched the people for the signs of seasickness. I knew one heave would pollute the air and make the trip out unpleasant.
On the way, I watched the nocturnal thunderstorms in the distance come closer, the seas start to rise, and the promise of some rough weather. We soon reached what's called a sea breeze front, and the thunderstorms brought some large swells with the rain. We eventually sailed through the area of bad weather and reached the fishing area at around 11:00 am. I was glad, since some were already becoming seasick from the rough ride.
The Gulf was a beautiful blue, the sea was choppy, and we started fishing. It was a struggle to keep my feet, and over time, some abandoned their rod to go enjoy the fragrant cabin area of what was a converted crew boat. Looking through the window confirmed I didn't want to go back inside. Some already had their heads on the tables and occasionally were throwing up.
A light rain started, and I kept fishing. Trigger fish were eating our bait before we were deep enough for snapper, but eventually I got a strike. With one strong tug, I hooked a snapper. With one strong tug by the snapper, my rod slipped from my hands and disappeared the in the clear, blue water.
I looked over at my boss, who smiled and handed me the rod from the man that left to go inside. I continued fishing, spent way too much time rebaiting hooks robbed by trigger fish, and eventually landed two red snappers.
It was time to go, since the trip back would take hours. I leaned on the rail, enjoyed the warm rain, and stayed there until we reached the dock. It was now getting dark and the hands started filleting fish for those that caught fish. We left after dark, the bus ride was even colder, and they let us out at the hotel where we parked our vehicles.
I eventually cooked the red snapper, which I don't like. It has too strong of a taste, and regardless of people telling me it was cleaned wrong, I won't eat it again. Still the trip was interesting, and another thing to write about.