With the year coming to a close, the host of the Anglers Journal podcast, Charlie Levine, looks back at why he loves to fish and discusses how his career path brought him here. Thank you for listening to the podcast this year. Stay tuned for more pods in the new year, and we hope your resolution is to fish more! Don’t forget to pick up the Winter issue of Anglers Journal, which just started to hit the streets, or click here to subscribe. Happy holidays!
GREAT ESCAPE
The fish don’t care about deadlines or meetings or whatever hoops you had to jump through to make time to chase them. When you hold a rod in your hands, the notifications and calendar invites melt away like late-morning fog. Your schedule, your commitments don’t matter. You are but a speck in the ocean, a grain of sand on the beach.
Anonymous.
As I stepped up to the casting deck of a heaving express boat somewhere off southern Costa Rica, it took me a second to anchor my feet. I held my arms out wide, like a tightrope walker. I felt a million miles away from my laptop and keyed-in on what really mattered in that moment: the sound of dolphin leaping from the waves, marauding birds diving, yellowfin tuna leaving bubble trails across the dimpled surface in hot pursuit of food. I was fully focused, one thought, one pursuit.
I made my cast toward the fray, the boat having settled down, my footing true. The large popper flew skyward and came down with a thwap. I quickly recovered the slack line and pulled hard and fast so the scooped face of the floating lure would chug and kick out a splash. Two big pops, and a tuna came in from the side, mouth open, eyes focused. It devoured the plastic, and I was tight at last. Thank God almighty, I was tight at last.
Watching a fish destroy a plug, popper or fly is one of the greatest thrills in angling. It never gets old. And while we live for those rarefied moments, it’s the quick bites in between, the beach-side shuffles, the bottom-fishing forays or the run to the river to wet a fly line that keep us thirsty and coming back for more.
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A few months back, I bumped into Capt. Chip Shafer, and he said something that has stuck with me. Shafer is one of the most decorated offshore captains to ever ply the blue water. He’s run offshore sportfishing operations since the 1970s and currently helms Old Reliable, a 72-foot Bayliss. The custom sportfish is the featured component of a globetrotting outfit owned by Nick Smith. The main target for this crew is billfish on fly, which brings them to Mexico, Guatemala and wherever else the migration patterns take them. Shafer and his team are the best at what they do, and their record speaks for itself, logging days with more than 40 marlin releases. But running an operation like this is work, lots of work, and sometimes Shafer just wants to escape to the pond.
“Isn’t it funny how we start our fishing careers chasing bream and bass, and then we want more,” Shafer said to me in his soft, Carolina accent, with a big smile. “So we get into saltwater fishing. We go after bigger fish with bigger boats. But then as we get older, it all kind of comes full circle, and we long for those simple days back at the pond.”
His words rang true to my ears. My fishing life these days is dominated by chasing largemouth bass with my two young boys. We live in central Florida on a chain of lakes, and between youth sports, birthday parties and family obligations, my fishing opportunities have been sliced down to preordained windows that must live on the calendar or they won’t happen. The days of obliging that call from a buddy — “They’re biting right now, drop whatever you’re doing and get your ass over here!” — are gone for now. So I go bass fishing. I bring a rod to the beach. I take my skiff out. It’s all good. Whether you’re tossing a line into a pond with a child or burning diesel on your way offshore, it doesn’t matter. The feeling is the same.
There is something freeing about being unnoticed and living in the moment. Just a person holding a fishing rod, thinking about what lure or bait to use. No commitments or notifications. Out of range, off the grid, feeling alive. That’s the escape that fishing provides, and I hope this issue of Anglers Journal provides a bit of that feeling as you navigate the turbid waters of life in between bites.
