In September 2010, the Bakers ventured out for some family vacation time of a sandy sort. Our adventures are usually in the mountains, but Troy's Dad and Carolyn invited us to share their beach house, so we were happy to accept. I was especially looking forward to the trip because the two Baker men had to go it without me the prior year since I had taken a new job and hadn't any vacation available. So, I was planning to make the most of it.
We had the long weekend booked up with festivities: surf fishing, fishing on the dock behind the beach house on the inter-coastal waterway, body surfing, and charter fishing expedition. I had been introduced to fresh water fishing by Troy when we first started dating, and I have been hooked ever since. But, I had yet to try my hand at ocean fishing, so I was especially looking forward to this item on our agenda. Steven had never been on a fishing charter before either, but acquired the fishing bug from Troy a few years ago.
So, that morning, we prepared by having a big breakfast. Grandpa made us sausage biscuits, something to stick to our ribs because we would be gone a few hours on the boat. We booked our passes on the Voyager Charter boats at Calabash not far from Holden Beach. We opted for the group trip, nothing fancy, since it was our first time, and we weren't sure how Steven would like it.
I had been on a few boating trips on the ocean as a kid and was a little concerned that Steven was going to be sick. But, Troy advised us against the motion sickness meds and the like saying that the drugs made him sick. It was a beautiful sunny day and so was the ride out to the fishing spot. The waves were little choppy, and I was getting a little queasy, but I shrugged it off with thoughts of catching some big fish.
We reached our destination, bought our bait (whew...boy was it stinky), and Steven and Troy entered the pool for the biggest catch of the day at $5 a pop. Troy baited all of our hooks, and I stood up in anticipation to drop my line on cue...and then I felt it...there was no more shrugging this off. I clumsily dropped my rod and climbed over fisherman after fisherman and repeatedly barfed in the bathroom. I wiped my face and headed back to my post determined to get catch the big fish, lifted the line and then slammed it down again. It was too late for motion sickness meds at this point I'm told, and nothing seemed to help...ginger ale...a pet talk to "suck it up and fish" from the first mate or his witty rendition of Gillian's Ilse theme song. I spent the rest of the fishing portion of our trip in the bathroom. I was the sickest passenger on the trip.
Troy, Steven, and Grandpa all did well catching quite a few fish. They admitted they got a little queasy too, but they were able to shrug it off and fish on. Troy did so well that he won the fishing pool, and Grandpa caught a shark. Of course, we didn't get to catch all the action on film since the camera-woman was in the toilet the entire time. Once the boat started moving, I was able to stop spewing and rejoin my crew.
The rest of our long weekend was barf free. We spent the day body surfing, chasing blues in the surf that Troy couldn't catch no matter how hard he tried - different baits, nets, nothing would work as the fish jumped all around my master fisherman husband.