Marlin fishing in Jamaica

It was our first trip to the Caribbean: Two couples staying together in the Ocho Rios area, wanting to do it all—Dunn’s River Falls, river rafting, eating jerk pork purchased from a street vendor, and much more.

We walked the docks that were home to the fleet of charter fishing boats, checking fishing stories from the captains and returning fishermen. One story clinched it—a bedraggled fisherman talked about fighting a marlin for hours, only to have the captain cut his fishing line on purpose stating that for safety reasons it was time to return to port. Apparently the bilge pump was not working, and the captain was afraid of taking on water as evening approached. Or, maybe he had a hot date that evening.

So we negotiated a price for the following day for a more seaworthy vessel, and we headed far out to sea. In fact, we were so far out that we could no longer see the land. After the initial excitement wore off and the Dramamine kicked in, my three companions all dosed off. The quiet was broken by an agitated discussion between the captain and the first mate. As the boat turned, I gathered that they had actually seen a blue marlin on the surface and were swinging around to bring the bait to the fish. Soon the rod started jumping. The hook-setting procedure involved coordination between fisherman and captain. As the fisherman worked to set the hook, the captain revved the engines to supply greater hook-setting power. But, alas the line went slack, and the captain slowed the engines. More discussion with the first mate. Again, the rod started to bounce, and this time the hook was set and the fight was on.

My wife is normally prone to motion sickness. Despite that, she grabbed the video camera and climbed up to the swaying flying bridge to capture the action. Slowly, ever so slowly, we were working the fish closer to the boat. But, I could tell by the angle of the line that she was staying very deep. Suddenly that changed, and the fish was racing to the surface. I cranked up the slack as fast as I could. Majestically she flew out of the water, whipping her head back and forth. Back in the water, only to jump again. And again. And again. (Subsequent review of the video tape suggested that in less than 60 seconds, the fish broke water nearly 30 times! Accompanied, of course, by appropriate shrieks of excitement from the boat party). At the same time, she was stripping line and moving farther and farther from the boat.

She stayed hooked, and the process of reeling her in began anew. Finally, she was alongside the boat, gaffed and hauled in. The magnificent blue iridescence faded quickly. I am all for catch-and-release, but we had not discussed such issues with the crew, who expected extra remuneration by selling the fish to a local fish vendor upon returning. Soon we began the long journey back to port, and the first mate proudly hoisted the marlin flag signifying a successful catch. A small crowd had gathered at the dock, and I realized I had experienced beginner’s luck; most fishing expeditions did not have such a successful ending.

By marlin standards, she was not a big fish, as these magnificent beasts can easily attain 300-400 lbs or more. If memory serves, there is a facsimile fish mount hanging at the St Lucia airport portraying a marlin caught locally that exceeds 800 lbs!