Sea-Sick!
Let me be clear; anybody can get sea-sick at any time, on
any vessel, under any conditions.
Becoming a victim of sea-sickness is not an indication of one’s relative
manhood, regardless of what your fishing partners might say.
As a teenager and young man I took several voyages on Block
Island head boats, targeting night-time bluefish in the dark. These were exotic trips for me at the time,
and the bluefish were big and burley.
The trips were supposed to be about fun, but on occasion, these adventures
turned into personal Living Hells. I
mean End-it-All Living Hells.
Of course I’d consistently done everything wrong. Reliable marine forecasts were unavailable or
inaccurate at the time. If it wasn’t
raining, and the opportunity was there, you went! Why bother driving by the beach to assess
conditions? If it was fishable, the boat
would leave port, and if the boat left port, you should be on it! Why not sit in the cabin and grab a burger or
Italian Meatball sandwich? Be sure to
sit near the engine exhaust, too!
Yes, it is possible to get violently sea-sick before the
boat has broken through the pier head.
It’s possible to puke 23 times in a night, all the while being incapable
of actually fishing. It’s possible that
the boat’s policy is to keep fishing at the Captain’s discretion, as long as
anybody is having fun and catching fish.
It’s possible that the one guy who’s drunk out of his mind is oblivious
to sea-sickness, and that he’s also some sort of bluefish whisperer that can
pound them when everybody else has given up.
It’s further possible that I can be stupid enough to have redeemed my
“half off” coupon, generously provided by the boat after this miserable trip,
for another trip of similar misery. Hey,
why not consider leaving a couple of fine spinning reels behind while you
hastily disembark to terra firma?
And so I have a healthy respect for sea-sickness. I should probably more accurately state that
I fear sea-sickness. And yet I love to
fish, so I’ve had to learn how to manage this issue. First, Dramamine and Practice! I think you do find your sea legs with
practice and experience, and I’m consoled by the presence of D in my system. Second, I want to control my destiny for the
day, and I’m reluctant to board a boat under questionable conditions when the
call to pull the plug is somebody else’s responsibility. I don’t go on too many head boats anymore.
Acquiring this experience has taken time, and I’ve had my
moments. I literally christened one
friend’s boat “The Puke Barge”, and I was quite proud of my “Sick Before Six”
AM reputation among my fishing partners.
Still, it’s much less of an issue for me than it used to be, and I’m very
thankful for that.
At 17 feet, Numenon
becomes uncomfortable before she’s unsafe in Lake Michigan’s short, choppy
seas. Since I fish mostly for fun
(tournaments are another story), I can choose when to get off the water. The
window for sea-sickness on my boat is therefore pretty small, but it still
occasionally catches me or my passengers.
Of course, my passengers are never actually sea-sick. Their condition is always attributed to a bad
breakfast, too much coffee on a sour stomach, or simply a bug. A mild breakfast of cheerios, bananas and
yogurt goes some way towards ameliorating the wretchedness of being physically
sea-sick (regardless of cause.)
I once had a partner suffer through a long tournament
day. He was happy to get to shore and
walk our fish through the weigh-in process while I had the privilege of
cleaning the boat. This was not especially
pleasant. That’s a matter of
perspective, though, because my other partner for the day (who was cashing in my
coupons for tournament t-shirts and burgers at the time) delights in this
situation. The three of us probably
couldn’t reconstruct our catch for the day, but we sure remember the experience.
Anyway, sea-sickness is part of my life, and probably for
any boater. All I can recommend is:
- Practice; get out there and you’ll probably find your sea
legs, if you want to. Stay outside,
concentrate on the horizon, and try to avoid exhaust fumes, close
hand-work, etc.
- Preparedness; take advantage of available forecasts, D and
other remedies, and be aware of conditions.
- Acceptance; it happens.
With practice and preparedness, you can try to minimize its
frequency and intensity.
- Compassion; even if it’s one of your tournament partners, know
that they’re suffering. Be
nice. If they choose to give you
the gift of staying out and you have a good tournament day or happen to
catch a sailfish, be thankful.
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