Fishing tales

 Dec, 27 - 2018   no comments   Latest Casino Bonuses


I got a beauty the other day.

A female poker player of Savannah, GEORGIA. who happens to play at BestBet, and some of the other Florida casinos wrote:

” Dear Geno. Just a note to thank you for your persona stories to write about gambling and poker. But I have a question for you. Apart from these three tasks and activities, where you enjoy the most and do you have a number of good stories about? Smile, Carolyn B., Savannah, GEORGIA.’

While I have not met Carolyn in one of my favorite card rooms, I love her question! And here is my response:

The fish.

…before you groan and say: “How boring,’ let me clue you into a few facts on a row:

I NOT talk about fishing in the pond, or even fly fishing in a stream. I am referring to the deep sea fishing and going after the inhabitants of the deep.

Ernest Hemingway was a deep sea fisherman, and so was the western writer Zane Grey – who is in possession of a hut in the vicinity of Payson, AZ. Both of them went after sharks and trophy fish in the warm waters of the Caribbean and Mexico.

My first deep sea fishing experience was in Guaymas, Mexico. I had won a poker tournament in Las Vegas and, the feeling in a benevolent mood, had invited Dean and Juanita free to be my guests on a weekend in Guaymas.

Freed was pastor of a Free Methodist Church in Phoenix and was in the vicinity of the pension. I knew that he would like to have a few days away from the rigors of his job, and he immediately accepted my offer.

We crossed into Mexico at the Nogales, AZ. the port of entry. The ride lasted nearly seven hours, and we stopped to eat Mexican food in an adobe restaurant along the way.

the Pastor Delivered was very careful not to drink ALL but bottled water, and for his wife made sure he stuck to that formula!

” Now, Dean, you know how sensitive your stomach is,” she cautioned. the “You don’t want to have to go to the bathroom every five minutes.”

We pulled into the sleepy but charming town of Guaymas, just as the sun began to slip below the horizon. I stopped at a few hotels before we found a charming and comfortable hacienda. The room rates were surprisingly low price, and I paid for our two adjoining rooms.

That night our sleep was interrupted several times by knocks on the door. When I drowsily replied, a male voice would ask, ,”Is Maria there?” I would say NOT, never heard of her, and the voice would leave.

In the morning, my pastor and his wife met us for breakfast. He had a smile on his face.

” Um…ah, you were awake last night by foreign visitors?,” he said.

Juanita jumped in the conversation. the “We were sure all night long,” she said. ” Men would knock on our door and ask for someone who is — what was her name, Dean?,” she asked.

“Well, there were a couple of them, Dear. I remember Alicia and Juanita.”

Oh, boy! , I thought.

“Yes, we were shaken awake. They were searching for Maria.’

There was a pregnant pause. Then we all burst out laughing.

“I will not tell the members of the church what kind of hotel we stayed in as long as we have the fish,”, the minister said.

After a delicious breakfast, we went to the wharf and met Pedro Martinez. He owned a trim fishing boat and offered to take us on a half day for just $ 60.

“I will take you to the place where the fish are large and numerous,” and he has promised. the “You can count on that.” I paid for the trip, and we boarded the ship.

Gonzales eased the boat in the port. He had an assistant named Chico that efficient setting-up of the reels, and bait our hooks.

“We troll on the way to the fishing grounds,” said Chico, who looked to be about 19. “Maybe you hook a shark or a tuna.”

About 20 minutes later, I got a strike. The fish hit my line so hard, my glasses flew off my face and and almost went overboard!

Pedro yelling something to me from the cab and put the boat in a u-turn, so I could fight the fish without the blocking of my line. As I was fighting the fish trying to gain some line, the Pastor was Freed giggle and hit his hands.

“Fight him, brother,”, he called. the Bring it!

I fought against the monster for nearly 30 minutes without seeing the break of the water. Then suddenly…

…my line went limp. I pulled it in, and discovered the fish had broken the line.

the Pastor Delivered was still laughing when he suddenly had a strike. He almost fell, when his rod bent double. Now it was his turn and it was wild to watch.

He did not catch the fish. It broke his line, just as mine was broken.

Pedro said: “Sharks probably. There are a lot of them here. Too bad you don’t catch it.”

When we arrived on the fishing grounds, we were the only boat in the area. Almost immediately the fish began to hit our lines and in less than three hours, we caught more than 60 fish. They were trigger fish, yellow tail and red snapper.

“This is wonderful,”, said the pastor as the two members of the crew packed the fish in our ice chest. the “We hold a fish fry in the church.” And that we have done.

I lived in Naples, FL. and worked as a reporter for a daily newspaper for about a year. Naples had a wooden pier that stretched out into the water. For a small fee you could fish from the pier and the fishing was good.

on A morning my line was hit hard and went straight to the sea. A fisherman next to me said quietly, “You are attached to a shark.”

He was right. I fought the fish for about 20 minutes before you in a hammerhead. It was four and a half feet long!

I stood there excited, a voice behind me said: “Take a good look at it, Son. Then cut it loose.”

los my shark?! I felt like Walter Matthau in the movie,Grumpy Old Men if Ann Margaret loose of the big fish he had caught while fishing on the ice on a lake.“it is Too dangerous to be a shark on the pier. Sorry, son. It is a beauty.”

I cut the fish loose.

now we live in Charleston, S. C. about five miles of Folly Beach. I am planning the purchase of a fishing gear to fish from the wooden pier. to Stay tuned for more fish stories!

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