Soon to be in the history books this voyage will be remembered as a scratch affair when in came to the fishing. No fault of anglers, crew, or masters these periods of marginal fishing are built into the equation by Mother Nature and time. Though they can sow disappointment, or at least shatter long developed expectations of pure glory, they must be taken in stride. Slow fishing is one thing, stopped fishing is quite another. This run, thank goodness, was a long way from stopped. Having something to fish for, and catching at least a little bit every day, inevitably adds up to a worthy result in the end. And that is exactly where we are again on this voyage following a week at the rail. Five deuces in the hatch, a fair shot at the wahoo, and plenty of “mid range” yellowfin tuna for every one of these fifteen anglers to enjoy at the table for many months to come, proved the same old “time at the rail” strategy effective once again. So we head for the barn satisfied with the result in light of our options, but admittedly yearning for more. Another voyage is the obvious call; the beauty of fishing defined, and exactly why we are compelled to return. When it is extraordinary we can't wait to do it again. When it is fair we can't wait to do it again and find it extraordinary, etc.etc. It's a perpetual motion prospect that has attracted and tormented fishermen since the beginning of time. In my case nigh forty years. Many thanks to voyage organizers Bart Ryder and Don Louchios for the good times past, present, and to come. It is our most sincere pleasure to provide our best for the best. That is exactly what these gentlemen and anglers are. Thank you.

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