Fishing Venice, La in Winter

By Capt Clint Jenkins

Greg Hatcher (Chum Bucket), his friend Rusty, Capt Ken, Mike Mikos (cat-a-tonic) and myself had been vibrating with anticipation on our planned Tuna Trip to Venice, La., with Spectacular (aka Edie Barger).  We had been calling and emailing each other for weeks, planning our trip with mucho anticipation.  Mike, Capt Ken and myself were going to drive together in Mike’s truck departing from Homosassa, Crystal River and Gainsville, Fla., while Greg and Rusty were departing in Rusty’s truck from Georgia.  Capt Ken and Mike arrived at my house on Wednesday morning at 7:30....right on time. Mike ended up driving the whole 700 mile trip for us that day.  He was so wired with TUNA anticipation, he never tired at the wheel.  Around 10:30 we got a call from Greg informing us they had to make a stop to change the oil in the truck..........HELLO McFLY!!!!!!   We're suppose to go fishing.........didn't you realize you needed to drive????? The Hatcher/Rusty tag team fell further behind the big V10 truck bringing the Florida boys to Venice.....the last call we got from them, was a request for us to find a good Cajun Restaurant, so we could all sit down and eat some red beans and rice......the duo fell further behind, their voices more muffled as we drove westward.....the three of us were amazed at the destruction still visible in the Pensacola area from our year of hurricanes.

The three of us were obviously excited about the upcoming trip with Speck-ta-cular........both Mike and I were held captive by the stories Capt Ken shared with us about whipping the snot outta wimpy 200# yellowfin tunas. By the time we decided to take the shortcut to Venice we were both satisfied the 10 cylinder Ford was gonna deliver the trump card to Venice..........

On to the arrival......

We came in to LA around 3:pm on Wednesday well ahead of schedule....Capt Ken suggested we stop at the Welcome Station to announce our arrival and get directions to Venice.......the attendant was helpful and gave us a free map.  He told us we'd be better off taking the highway on the east side of the river and make the crossing at the last opportunity.  We thought that would be a bridge. Every time we asked anyone "how'd you get to Venice", we'd get a funny Cajun reply of "yeweeeee!".....wachagoin'derfo? feshun?.........it got to be feshun, cause der ain't nuttin' der but feshun and gas wurk and you boys don't look much dressed fo wurk".

We took the Welcome Station attendant's suggestion and tried the short cut by taking the I-510 by-pass........at the last gas fill-up, I took it upon myself to pick out a "local" looking guy and ask him "how'dyou get to Venice from here?"..................yeweeee!....wachagoin'derfo?"  The last guy told us to take the free ferry and cross the Mississippi River . With the help of the Ford's "real-time" guidance system we headed off SSW in pursuit of the first available free ferry to cross the mighty Mississippi.

The cell phone rang.......it was Greg and Rusty, "Yall found a spot for us to get some red beans and rice.  NOT YET GUYS, we were dealing with Mississippi ferry pucker power.  We were the first truck in line for the ferry.  As we watched it dock, we stared in awe at the force of the river.  The might Mississippi just turned that boat around until it got it's nose into the current.  This would be a mighty bad spot to have an engine fail.  Memories about the Mississippi ferry boat ride in one of Clint Eastwood's movies crossed our minds.  More apprehension, as we crossed over the short bridge onto the ferry, lots of signs warning of low thresholds and no liabilities.   We pulled onto the ferry and made the sharp left around the pilot house to the other side, again being first in line to exit the boat.  As we crossed the river, we observed the big boat traffic all around us.  This was not the scale of boats we were used to.  Exiting on the other side, we decided the best course of action was to head south.  Venice had to be that way.  About 40 miles later after passing lots of refineries, helicopter pads and levees, we were finally there.

When we arrived at Cypress Cove Marina, at the end of "Cogardrode", we were pretty satisfied with the hotel digs.  Nice new building and the rooms were just fine.

January 20, 2005 0530hrs.

Greg's been up since he and Rusty arrived the previous night......the directions they'd received for the Cypress Cove Marina consisted of "turn left at Cogardrode".......they'd been circling the end of the road for 1 1/2 hours before they had a local interpreter tell them "turn left at the Coast Guard Road" . Finally they found the Marina/Hotel.  All of us were wired and sitting on the park bench in the marina at 0530 waiting for Speck-Tackular's big go-fast boat.  The waiting was eating Greg alive..........0540..."I'm getting alittle worried".........0545, Captain Eddie Burger goes off searching for the boat....Greg's a little disturbed........he's stomping around in his new blue rubber pants and white rubber boots wondering if this trip is ever gonna happen.........meanwhile Rusty's telling us that Greg is a deeply disturbed person and don't be surprised if he pronounces at some point during the trip that he left his medication at home and he's "freakin' out" ...at that point Capt Ken proclaims that he's seen that in Greg when they used to fish together 20 years ago........ I glance around the marina and realize these five people are folks that met over the internet........we've got a big old kid that just found his fire truck under the Christmas Tree(Greg), his friend that makes a living outta being kicked by horses(Rusty).....some guy that's mistaken for Hulk Hogan at every international airport he visits(Mike), a charter captain that now, doesn't weigh 140# since he's been eating blueberry muffins(Capt Ken).......and has whipped, like a stepchild, 200# yellowfin tunas........here I am....knowing that 16 years ago a 76# yellowfin tuna whipped my butt on stand-up tackle. Around the corner comes a beautiful, yellow hull, center consol 36 foot Contender with triple 225 4 stroke Yamahas..........it's now 0600 and Greg's about to say something to the Captain..........Greg, in his blue rubber suit, strolls up to Roger, the owner of the Contender......ready to give him a piece of his mind, thinks twice and shakes his hand and thanks Roger for bringing the boat around......Roger has tats all up and down his left arm, and one on his neck under his right ear, "Property of Jingles".............up walks Speck-Tacular, reaches into his pocket, and brings out a small bell and inserts it in to the lobe of his left ear........

With gear stowed and all in their foul-weather gear we head out of the marina towards the Mississippi River to Tiger Pass. A nine mile trip down the river and an additional 25 + miles to the Lump. The ride out was uneventful. For anyone considering making a trip to Venice I cannot stress how important warm, waterproof clothing is........layers of them.

 It is cold, not just regular cold, but biting damp cold and the 40mph winds of the center console boat do nothing to warm us up.  We all, lay on the deck’s bean bag chairs and try to keep warm without getting to familiar with each other.  The wind noise is loud and we smile at each other in a vain attempt to bear the cold and hold down the anticipation.  Gas wells and oil rigs sail by us as the contender speeds out to the lumps, captained by two lads who are half our age.  Roger and Eddie are laughing, they know what’s in store for us and they are looking forward to some “fishing comedy theatre” at our expense.

Once on the Lump, Eddie and Roger begin cutting chunks of Pogies and starting the chum-line.......within a short period of time the rear deck of the Contender looks like the shower stall in "Scarface".  The weather is a good 20 degrees warmer here, the gulf stream tendrils that bring the warm water also bring the big Tuna and we are ready!!!

Tally for the first day: 130# YF, two YF's in the 50# range and 14 BF.  Capt Ken’s word of the day was “fantastic”

Capt Ken's last word, " fantastic", is a pretty good description of the over all trip..........there were highs and lows.....the highs being 99% of the trip,,,,,the lows being........loosing several nice fish, whether by loose knots or angler error.......or the worn-out fat boy syndrome.

We do the dock thing, happy and proud to put our day’s catch out for all to see.  Each of us posing with the big tuna, after it has been hoisted up on the dock scales.  Eddie has the hard job of cleaning all the fish up.  We watch this timeless picture of anglers, hoisting fish onto the dock, taking pictures and trudging off to the cleaning table to prepare their catches.  It has been a good day on the lump, lots of big Yellowfin over 100lbs have been brought in.  Several Nice Wahoo, just shy of the 100lb mark have also been displayed to everyone’s delight.  Capt Ken disappeared, something about having to change his socks.

I forgot to mention and feel the need to.........passing the rod is not a bad thing.......excuses, other than that fish whipped my *** are subject to question. During the Thursday battle with Mikes fish, after 1/2 hour Mike was plumb worn out......it's not a bad thing to pass the rod, it's important to put the fish in the boat.......the "peanut gallery" in a boat is a fine thing, it consists of experts, critical of every pump and wind of the rod and reel....the most often heard statement from the peanut gallery is, "the longer that fish stays out of the fish box..........the better chance he has of getting off"........the other is, "crank, pump and crank.......raise your rod tip up and crank down".......all of this is good advice unless you're holding the rod and watching yards of line being stripped off the reel. The other favorite acclaim from the gallery is: "you need to short stroke him.......I short stroked a 200# yellowfin out 300 feet from the boat and put him to the gaff in 9 minutes"..........a large game fish is a magnificent creation, bringing one to gaff or release is a combination of plain old good luck and teamwork....there ain't nothing wrong with passing the rod.

With further group discussion, we decided to put Mike's vacuum sealer to work..... Eddie laughed at the thought and told us he's seen many sealers tried but soon discarded because of the many steaks produced by so many fish.... Eddie didn't look too excited about cleaning so many fish, including the bait fish BlackFin........We asked him to zip out the loins and we'd deal with 'em after that. There are two important considerations when packaging tuna.......1) don't package them wet with fresh water or they'll become mushy....and 2) keep 'em cold. Within an hour we had vacuumed packed over 200 #'s of tuna in whole loins and had them on ice. We would deal with repacking once we're home. The idea worked and the next day's catch of over 250#'s of tuna was packaged in less than 1/2 hr.

After the battle, there's nothing wrong with a little rest and a change of socks.

Supper Thursday night was at the Cypress Cove Restaurant over the Marina Store. We had the kitchen cook up 10 YF tuna steaks.......their way. They've done it before....they were pink in the middle......and some of the best I've had. One steak was all I could handle.  They need to learn how to make cole slaw.  They have the fries down, and bring plates of them to the table.  After supper, we walked the marina docks to soak in the large boats. Cypress Cove Marina, though small, had some of the finest boats I've seen. It's been 10 years since I've been a dock rat.......it doesn't seem that long ago. The big 65' Viking was at the Lump both Thursday and Friday. She probably had an 18' beam, all the bells and whistles including the eye candy. My best guess, would put the cost at $2.5mm.....without the candy.  There was easily $50 million in fine boats anchored in the first row of battleships.  Their homeports proudly showing their fishing heritage from throughout the southeastern USA.

The tea and beer was cold and good.........off to bed and prepare for day two at the Lump.   Visions of Big Yellowfin Tuna and Wahoo greeted our tired minds and bodies all through the night.  We slept soundly after battling monsters on day one at the LUMP.

January 21, 2005 - 04:30 AM

Morning breaks.......the big boats fire up their engines. To me, that sound...and the smell of diesel exhaust rivals only the snap of a rigger clip and reaching for the rod before the drag screams..........dew heavy on the gunnels, the cockpit light is flipped off...coal is poured to the twin Caterpillars and the heavy black exhaust rolls back into the cockpit........the thought of the hunt makes me shiver.

I wake up............and look around my room to see who was there beating me with a ball bat. My left arm is sore....my back hurts, my feet ache from wearing the 15 year old rubber boots...I put on a pair of heavy socks and hear my dogs pleading for me to not place them back in those uncomfortable white boots......04:45 a tap comes from the door. I open it and I'm greeted by Greg and Rusty.........they already have on their foul weather gear. We all learned something from Thursday's trip.........warmth...it's easy to shed clothes.

05:00 and down to the lobby for some coffee. Capt Ken and Mike are already there......they look too comfortable, I wonder if they're as sore as me?  They don't look like it.......I grab a cup of coffee and head back to the room for 3 Advil.........and the most important event of any fishing trip..... "never trust a fart" .

We meet Eddie at the boat at 05:30 and we wait another 30 minutes for the ice man.  In the mean time, Rusty wanders off.  He arrives just as the last bag of ice is stowed and we cast off.  Two minutes later, he realizes he's misplaced his new Gortex gloves.  Eddie returns to the dock,,,,,,,,Rusty can't locate his gloves........I pretend like I'm asleep 'cause I'm thinking this poor soul's not gonna make it.......we're gonna have to amputate all his fingers before we reach the Lump..........then he can't crank a fishin' reel.......whose's gonna steer his pecker when he has to take a leak, I'm thankful he's Greg's buddy.  Then up steps Mike with an extra pair of diving gloves.......Mike's the coolest guy, he has so many  gadgets.  He's Greg's newest best friend.  During the time that Rusty was wandering and we were waiting, Spec and Mike had a little fun with Greg.  Spec began to fill Greg's white boots up with frozen pogeys and Mike took every opportunity to stick a frozen pogey in Greg's sweatshirt hood.  The ride out to the Lump was going to be real interesting today.  Yesterday's nerves are gone, replaced by tired arms and real determination.  It is in everyone's face.

We were without Roger on Friday.  Captain Eddie Burger, aka Speck-Tackular is not wearing the bell in his ear lobe today. Greg decides he's gonna be the Co-Captain and takes his place on the leaning post next to Eddie.  I stow myself forward of the helm on the starboard side so I can keep an eye on Greg.  .I"m sacrificing some comfort to keep a little drier in the 45* morning temperature running 50 mph.  As Eddie put the wood to the triple 225's, I watched Greg's 300+ pound own self bounce around and felt grateful that I was forward of him.......and not in Rusty's position......which was directly behind Greg and in a very dangerous seat should a rouge wave happen to wack the boat towards the port bow.  I pulled the strings down on my hood and assumed my look of the "elephant boy"........though warm and cozy I didn't much care what anybody thought I looked like......especially the Co-Captain. 

 I knew we were in for a long day. The only thing Greg Hatcher lacked was a cutlass and an eye patch. We were all doomed should something happen to Eddie Burger.......it was at that moment, in my minute of solitude, I knew nothing could happen to Captain Eddie Burger.  I chuckled as I watched the squished pogeys come out of Greg's boots and the now defrosted pogeys fall from his head as he lowered his sweatshirt hood.  He never knew.  Greg was truly on the Pirate kick and full of adrenaline.  He was gonna catch big TUNA today.

We arrived at the Lump shortly after 07:30 and, with the help of our Co-Captain and crew quickly had three diving lures tossed out trolling at 7 knots........within 10 minutes we'd boated 3 outta 4 snake kings.  I was pretty impressed and thought we ought to drag the lure a few more minutes anyway but it wasn't to be.

We came out of 500' of water and within 1/4 mile we were in 198'.  The seas that morning were calm....an occasional  2' swell rolled the Contender to starboard......once at anchor our drifted bait chunks would drift off at 5 o'clock.....making it difficult to fish four lines. With the chum line started it wasn't too long before the Bonita came to play with us....Capt Ken boated several before we ever got chunks over for tunas.  If you ask me, Ken would've been happy catching those boneheads all day.........later in the morning he'd once again take us to school and show us how to land a blackfin on a spinner......he never got a hit on the bass rod he brought.

Just after 8:am.......I remember the time because that's my inner limit on having a fishing beer........I was using one of Mike's rods...can't remember which one but it was the smaller of the two. I'd recently boated a Bonita on the rig and remember how different the feel of the highbred line was to mono. I had a chunk of kingfish on the 6/0 blue circle hook and the 8:05 Amtrak grabbed it and took off.  Mike said there was 1,000 yds of 50# powerpro on the reel......so don't worry about line capacity.  I wasn't worried about the line capacity, I was more concerned about how fast the line was being peeled from that smooth drag.  Capt Ken had used the rig just before me and assured me the drag was set and not to concern myself about the ability of the reel to handle the fish.  Peanut gallery's are a very important part of a fishing team.....they offer advice, horse-laugh and tell tales of old conquests.....peanut gallery's gather energy and grow when a member is holding the cards.......Within the length of time I've type about peanut gallery's.......750 yards of line have been stripped from this reel.....Mike looks at the spool and says, "shucks"........if you see the yellow backer.......I said, "if I see the yellow backer........what????"........then comes the yellow backer and I tighten the drag....snip.  5 minutes later I crank in the last of the 1200 yds of 50 PowerPro to find the hook cut off at the leader.

That, is fishing on the Lump...............7 minutes and 3,000+ feet of line. There are dragons on the Lump........and our Co-Captain decides to tackle one.

at 09:45 the Hatcher Factor kicked in.......our self appointed Co-Captain grabbed his cutlass, flipped down his eye patch and grabbed the tail of a dragon......during the next 30 minutes Rusty boated a 50# YF.....Capt Ken toyed with Bonita and put two BF in the box.........Mike and I kept the deck as clean as possible and watched Capt Ken slip and slide through squashed threads on the deck.  We also noticed the condition of our Co-Captain quickly diminish.....our once stone-faced Co-Captain had been whipped in to a mire shell of a man....he squeaked......."help...someone please help......I've got a spaz in my back...........I'll give you all extra rations of rum if someone will please take this rod".

Mike and I both figured the best one of us to handle the rod was Capt Ken, it was he that told us of his conquests in the early days of 200# YF's using parachute cord.......so Capt Ken took the rod proclaiming to Speck-Tackular to grab the gaff...........'cause this SOB is comin' up.  Capt Ken: "this rod butt's too long.........." we all watch him go zipping off to starboard through the squished threads. "Dang......this deck's too slippery......someone put a fish in my boot, I need to change my socks, who wants the rod?"..............I took the rod and the belt and knew my effort would be less than appreciated....I'd crank twice and the fish would pull 20' of line, after 5 minutes. 

Mike got the rod...........this went on for and hour and forty-five minutes.........our Co-Captain got the rod once again one hour and thirty five minutes into the tug-of-life.......at one hour and 44 minutes Greg passed the rod off to me......well within sight of the fish, his only desire was to stick the fat-boy killer with a gaff........Greg stuck him like he was driving the gaff into a LiveOak.....Speck followed and brought the estimated (by Speck-Tackular) 160# fish on to the deck. Back at the dock the fish weighed 159.9 pounds..........we had only three more fish to catch that final day.

I'll finish this tomorrow at the office.......I'm tired, still excited.........after 3 showers still smell like pogey's.....my wife doesn't want me in bed but the three cats love me........Jody's happy I'm home......I can't find my favorite razor and I'm afraid I left it in Venice, that'll be a good excuse to go back in the summer and fish the floaters with Speck-Tackular.

Greg said this was his third best fishing trip...........my next, will always be my best and most favorite, this one just happens to be my best.........until the next one

During the last 1/2 hour of the battle our chum line had been neglected. With the absence of Roger, our Co-captain was the designated chummee.....he now sat on the port gunnel with a grin on his face reaching from ear to ear... "did you all see how I stuck that SOB????........rum for everyone!! Man I'm tired.........I really stuck 'em, huh!......Speck,,,,,,I did good, didn't I!" Greg was worn out, I wish we'd taken a picture of him......he looked like a kid on Christmas morning clutching his new red toy fire truck under his left arm. "Man, I'm tired......I gotta get out of these rubber pants".

Chunks of chum were cut and the process began all over again......lines again deployed with chunks of blackfin and kingfish.... A sport fishing boat was anchored several hundred yards off our starboard bow, Greg said it must be full of rednecks from Georgia 'cause each time they'd boat a fish....a great roar of hoops and hollers would erupt on the Lump, Capt Ken's comment was, "those fish must all be little ones........they have wayyyy to much energy to be hootin' like that". Twenty minutes later Speck asked Greg if he was gonna get back to fishin'......Greg was still contemplating taking off his rubber pants and stated he was too tired to take off his boots.....it was then when Rusty informed Greg he'd put several threads in his boots on the way out....the great sport in Greg once again came out in his big grin as he shook his head and removed the boots with the squished bait mushed into his socks.......I was wondering who his target would be, he was much too calm.

Rusty boated another yellowfin and we killed two more blackfin.......with each scream of the reel I wondered if it was another dragon on the end of the line. It takes about 5 minutes in to the initial run before you can determine if it's a large fish.....the last three were nice fish...........nice fish that weren't gonna kill us. At 13:00 Eddie tossed out the last of the chum, he had told us earlier we'd need to leave the Lump by 1330 so he could get cleaned up for a wedding that evening in New Orleans.......he must have some magic secret soap to get the pogey smell off.......'cause after three showers I still couldn't get away from our cats. The anchor ball was tossed out and the process of retrieving the 600 feet of line began....several hundred yards off our bow we watched a school of yellow fin's busting a pod of Bonita..........the Lump is absolutely alive with fish...big and small, we left dragons out there, hopefully to battle the next time.

With the anchor safely stowed......Captain Eddie Burger put the coal to the triple 225 Yamahas. In flat calm seas it wasn't long before we were rocketing off to the NNE at 43 knts........my beanbag was on the deck on the starboard side just aft of the helm....with Greg facing forward at the stern of the boat, the threat of him falling on me didn't exist.......15 minutes in to the trip the boat did a Crazy Ivan to port......although the air temperature was 70* traveling 50 mph it's a little cool,,,,,Eddie decided to put on his jacket and the moment he release the steering wheel a wave hit us on the port bow sending both he and Capt Ken in opposite directions.......Ken landed on my head and thankfully.......as he took off he was able to grab the wheel while backing off the throttles........I was glad it was Ken and not Greg!

We arrived back at the marina at 1500 to find the slips empty, a clean fish cleaning station......no crowds.....a nice way to finish two days of some of the best fishing I've experienced.

Friday's total catch: 3 YF, largest being 159.9#'s, 5 BF

After gassing up the Contender Captain Eddie navigated the vessel back to the cleaning station and quickly dispatched the loins from Friday's catch. We loaded the 200+# of tuna on to a cart and proceeded to our vacuum packing station. We learned from Thursday's packing experience to cut the blackfin loins in half and put 4 chunks in each bag, the YF were packed two whole loins per bag......this made it easy for us to tell what pack contained which fish. The 159.9# YF was cut in larger chunks.......we had no bags large enough to hold a whole quarter of the fish, it was a monster.

By the time we had the area cleaned up, the Lump fleet began to filter in the Marina. We had time to get cleaned up and returned to the dock and watched hundreds of pounds of tuna and Wahoo being tossed on the deck......weighed and photos taken.......there's always a common look on a fisherman's face, it's the grin and the "coon eyes" when their sunglasses are raised over their forehead for the pics........you can tell the pukers too........the gaunt gaze from shrunken eyes, a stain on their shirt and the Captain yelling, "No.....not yet, you can't get off the boat until we stop!".......their leap to Terra Fir-ma and their relief as they realize they won't die that day.......and it'll be a longgg time before they ever get on a boat again. They'll be kidded that night over beers as they plan, once again, to make the hunt.......

Eddie suggested a different restaurant for us Friday night. Barbara's fed us right that night with ample portions of gumbo, fried and grilled shrimp.....oysters and glasses of iced tea.  We can recommend the place even if we did feel a little out of place with all the locals there.

Eddie also informed us he had applied to LSU to attend Law School.......what a waste of such a fine young Captain....but a charter captain can't do that work forever.......it might be a good choice for something to fall back on when the days are too windy.....or too cold to fish.

We all turned in early Friday night and agreed to wake at 04:00 and depart eastward by 04:30.........my Nextel chirped at 03:55, Greg, "Hey man, where you all at????"......"I'm sleeping good buddy, or at least trying to get another 5 minutes"......."We're just east of Pensacola!!!!"......"Say What?......over", "Yeah, Rusty got a case of rabbit last night at 23:00......he had to get home!!!, over"................."Ten fifty-four good buddy.....I'll be standing by"...I had packed the night before and clicked on the light to see if I could find the SOB with that ball bat........no luck.

I met Capt Ken and Mike in the lobby.....the 03:55 chirp woke them through the thin walls of the motel room, I told them of our partners location......Ken replied, " I told you Greg was crazy"........"did I ever tell you the story about Greg being the hero and saving this little girl one day????".........."there was this little girl down at the dock........she fell in the drink!, yep, she fell in and Greg just scooped her up in the net............He was a hero that day!"

Captain Ken, Mike and I squared up with the motel and grabbed the dolly with our coolers and luggage........at 04:30 it was still pretty dark outside, we were greeted by a fresh, moist breeze........the three flags snapped smartly in the WSW breeze I would estimate at 15-20 mph..........the Contender wouldn't fish that day, Captain Eddie Burger's head was probably thumpin' from the wedding reception last night.......he was probably curled up with one of those fine Cajun ladies.....Ken, Mike and I looked at each other and raised our eyebrows..........I recalled what Eddie said to us the day before as we were preparing to leave the Lump........"You pu**ies just got lucky.......nobody plans a two day trip on the Lump three months earlier and makes it!"...."you just got lucky!!!" I glanced down towards the marina.......the 65' Viking was gone.......I heard the rattle of a diesel fire...then the second motor came to life, and I caught the faint scent of diesel exhaust.......I got a chill from the thought of another hunt.......only the big boys are gonna hunt that day.

Sometimes it's better to be lucky than good....

Costs:
Gas from Gainesville to Venice and back split three ways
3 nights @ $60 split two ways in the motel
two day charter @ $1,100.00/day split 5 ways
200 gallons of gas split 5 ways
A generous tip for the Captain

the smell of diesel exhaust and pogeys.................priceless!

See all the Pictures Here