SO, YOU WANNA BE A CHARTER CAPTAIN…

Ever wonder why most of us aren’t so nice?

By Capt. John McMurray

Yeah, sometimes people ask what I do… 

The response after mine… “Man, that’s so cool, you have the best job!”. 

Because it’s that easy – Jump on the boat every morning, stupid captain’s hat on, whistling that tune from Popeye.  Go out and catch a ton of fish and pull in with smiling clients, just time for dinner with the family. 

Not so much. 

People who spend real time on the water are often described as “salty”.  The Oxford English Dictionary defines the slang as “angry, irritated or hostile”.  Maybe it’s more accurate to just say a-hole. 

Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about…  While I try not to be, I’m often not so nice, maybe erratic, manic, prone to wide swings in mood.  I’m making a gross generalization here, but it’s no coincidence most guys in the business, at least the full-timers, seem to have similar dispositions.  

So, hey, let’s touch on a few things that are involved here, so maybe people can get a taste of what it’s really like.  And maybe I can justify why “I am what I am” (Note: I didn’t intend this to be a Popeye reference, but I guess it is) 

The boats

Man, you have NO idea what it takes to maintain a boat that you may end up putting six or seven-hundred hours a year on.  Multiply that by five and maybe you can understand that keeping those boats running hard in one of the most corrosive environments on the earth is a full-time job on its own. 

I mean, ya gotta laugh a little when people who can’t even do their own oil changes wax about one day running a full-time operation. Because here’s how it really works – You develop an issue, which happens when you’re running 4800+ rpms for hours at a time.  No, you can’t just limp home and drop it off at your local service place at 5pm and tell’em to fix it for you so you can fish the next day.  Maybe, they take your boat the next morning (or they’re too backed up and won’t take it at all), put you on a list, make an estimate of when they think they might be able to look at it for ya, and then get to it two weeks after that.  Man, it’s tough to even find parts these days.  Then, the bill you get will likely suck off around a month or two of profit, not to mention all the lost business when you can’t use your boat.  Yeah, you might have a better system than we have in Long Island, but really, this is pretty much the standard here. 

But hey, maybe you have the mechanical aptitude to diagnose the issue (note: 9 out of 10 people don’t), and you may actually attempt to fix stuff yourself.  I spent several years as a mechanic, amongst other things, in the Coast Guard, and have worked on/repaired my own boats for the last two decades.  Certainly, I know how most marine systems operate, and generally I can isolate the problem and attempt to address it.  But most of this stuff is very hard to get to, (Manufactures of most boats built them with the idea that only contortionist-dwarfs work on them), and it’s difficult to fix it even with a good amount of expertise.  If you haven’t done it a few times before, well, there’s a learning curve with every single fix.  Lastly, a lot of this kinda thing can’t be done while the boat is in the water.  So, you either need a lift, or you have to trailer the boat and get it to a place you can work on it (not easy at all when you get above the 30’ mark).

While I’ve been around this stuff a LOT, I still have to call friends (fortunately, I have a really good one) who work in the industry to help me get it figured it out.  The truth is I couldn’t run this business without those people. 

Really though, unless it’s raining so hard I can’t work, I’ve gotten to the point where I have NO days off from April through November, unless my wife forces me to take them off, and honestly, not many days in the off season either.  Because if I’m not fishing, I’m maintaining/fixing boats.

The work vs. money ratio…

During the season, and after it, you work almost all the time. 16, even 18-hour days are not unusual.  The “days off” will be the 6 -hour ones. There is always something that needs to get done. It’s just a matter of priorities. There is rarely a chance to sleep in. When you’re not fishing you set the alarm for early so you can get a few things done before spending some time with the family. 

Where this really bites you in the a*s is later on, when you are forced into some downtime, and you find that you have a difficult time to do simple stuff like watching TV or reading a book, or, ahem, talking to people who don’t fish.

The term workaholic is not a falsehood here.  Going 90 miles an hour to 0 is tough to handle when you go that speed for so long.  Yeah, it sounds silly, but you lose the ability to do nothing.  And that’s problematic when you get put in a situation where you HAVE to do nothing.  

But back to the point, we spend A LOT of money every year.  Not just on maintaining boats but on a ton of things (I’ll spare you the details).  The big one is fuel.  Believe it or not, I burned well over 20k gallons this year between all the boats.  And with the prices this year?  You do the math.  If you stay inshore, of course you won’t burn near that.  But then again, if you haven’t built a solid bottom-fishing client base with money, for the most part, you won’t have much to fish for during July and Aug.  At least, not in these parts. 

And just when you think you’re having a good/profitable year, you blow a powerhead, and maybe a few gear cases.  And to be clear, there is some sort of crisis EVERY year, whether it’s extraordinarily high fuel costs, a pandemic that shuts you down for two months, fuel tanks that need to be replaced….seems like an awful long time where I made it through a season without something catastrophic happening. 

You would die if you knew what my overhead is every year (tackle, parts, fuel etc.).  In the end when you boil everything down, you realize that you probably make well under $10.00 an hour for a LOT of hard backbreaking work.

Exhaustion

Probably goes without saying, but the 2am wake-ups, sometimes 7 or 8 days straight, will wear your a*s down.  Yeah, that’s only during tuna season, but frankly the 4am wake-ups aren’t so great either.  And make no mistake, there will be a night or two every year where you’re lucky to squeeze a couple hours in, like when something has to get fixed, or you’re not getting underway the next day. 

Add that lack of sleep to the fact that you almost always get the sh*t kicked out of you at least one way to and from the tuna grounds.  And THAT is hard on the body when you have to endure it for several days in a row.  Even on those relatively nice days, the boat is endlessly rocking and rolling.  Just the body trying to constantly right itself for days at a time is more than a lot of people can handle.   And the constant deadlifting of tuna?  I dunno how you’d do it if you aren’t physically in good shape. 

And it is absolutely true that the older ya get (and I ain’t no spring chicken anymore) the more stuff just hurts. 

Lastly, going hard like this all the time will wreck your sleep patterns.  When you get used to getting 4 to 6 hours of sleep a night, and then you manage to get 8, you’ll feel like sh*t all day, and good luck getting any sleep that night.  And if you’re a caffeine addict like me, you’ll wake up with a splitting headache cause you’re used to a 3am cup of really strong coffee. 

Last thing…  Energy drinks are your best friend. 

It’s F’n dangerous

I wouldn’t have said this several years ago. Maybe I’m getting older and wiser, but I don’t think so.  It likely has more to do with experience and time on the water.  Seeing how quickly things can and do go wrong, and knowing that if you spend that many days at sea, that far off, something is bound to happen.

Getting hooks sunk deep into the hands and arms, even your head happens at least once a year, sometimes more.  It’s nobody’s fault. People get excited and don’t look behind them, and ya think I’d have learned not to be behind them by now.   I try to always wear glasses, but it’s hard to think I’m not going to lose an eye at some point. Come pretty close a few times already. But that’s not what I’m talking about.

I’m not gonna provide much in the way of detail here. Mostly because I don’t want to expose myself to the litany of critical voices from those folks who have a fraction of the sea time that I have. But there’s been more than a few occasions during the last several years that have scared me significantly.

Indeed, I’ve gotten more cautious.  But there are things that are out of anyone’s control. I’ve had more than a few instances that F’d me up…  not just physically, but mentally.   I suppose I should consider myself lucky that thus far nothing worse has happened. But it’s hard to believe that it won’t at some point.

The clients

You don’t just start a charter business.  It takes years – lots of years – to cultivate enough clients that you’re busy enough to turn a profit with all the overhead.  I always had a flexible job that allowed me to run charters a few days a week.  But it literally took me a decade and a half to build that client list up to the point where I could do this full time.   I got laid off from my last job what seems like an eternity ago.  For better or worse, that forced my hand.  I guess I’m glad it did, or maybe I’m not…  Frankly I’m not sure anymore.

Regardless, you don’t just say “hey, I’m gonna start fishing charters” and expect clients to flock to your boat.  Waste money on advertising all ya want.  You may get a few people that way.  But the reality is that it’s mostly based on return customers, word of mouth and reputation… and of course whether people like you or not.

The clients are what make the business.  However hard it is, you can’t be a d*ck to them.  While that may sound like a no-brainer, it’s actually quite hard.  Especially when things get intense, and that is often when you’re tuna fishing.

You may stick only one fish all day and if you don’t land it, well, that’s it.  Hell yeah, there’s some yelling and screaming sometimes… most of the time.  Typically it’s the “SET THE HOOK!” or “KEEP IT TIGHT!” refrain.  But occasionally it gets worse.  It’s damn hard not to call people idiots when they do the exact things you tell them not to.  And hey man…the whole boat hurts when you’ve F’d up what maybe the only shot for the day. 

And another thing I’ve found uncontrollable…you start to develop a general distain for people that aren’t terribly experianced.  And that’s so unfair because in many cases, that’s exactly why they are fishing with you in the first place.  But you find yourself being short, scowling, instinctively shaking your head, and being unconsciously condescending and, ahem, just being a dick…for no discernable reason.  Yeah, I’ve learned to recognize this, and to try and pull it back.  But sometimes, it’s too late, and all I can do is apologize. 

The point of all this is you HAVE to be a good people-person in a service industry like this one. And I sometimes REALLY suck at that part of things.  Because it’s absolutely true that the more time you spend on the water, the more of an a-hole you’re prone to becoming. 

In the end though, ya gotta understand that you are entertaining folks.  That means kissing ass and being a good-guy even if you’re like me and don’t really like people in general.   This sounds easy, but I can tell ya it’s not.  Especially after your 5^th day of busting your ass on 4 hours of sleep. 

And I guess I should at least admit to myself here that I’m progressively becoming worse at this, not better.  So a note to anyone who fishes with me.  If you see it, call me on it!  Or maybe just punch me in the face.  Because I totally deserve it…

The Family

Man, you better have a rock-solid marriage if you wanna do this kinda thing.  You will be absent for long periods of time.  And I don’t just mean physically. 

In the heart of tuna season not only are you exhausted all the time, but you become laser focused on fishing.  It’s hard to think about anything else.  And really, it’s hard not to look at the weather forecast every 5 minutes, especially if it’s a precarious one. 

And while we’re on the subject of weather forecasts, I’d note how bad it sucks when you wake up at 2am to find that the forecast is completely different than it was when you went to bed, but the wheels are already in motion, and you have no choice but to try, which often results in turning around 30 miles out, because the next 30 miles will likely tear the boat to shreds. 

But, ya know what’s worse?  Waking up to find that it’s flat-calm and the 20-knot east wind they forecasted the night before was bullsh*t.  It ain’t even the money lost that hurts.  It’s the FOMO you get.  It’ll plague you not just for the day, but for the week.  And any good friend will turn the knife, tell ya how good it was and how ya missed what was undoubtedly the “best day of the year” (note: of course, I do this too). 

But getting back to family.  My wife has been in this for almost two decades, and frankly, she hates it, and often hates me, and still pushes-back regularly – begs me to take days off etc.  I try hard to capitulate, but I rarely do.  Somehow, she’s still around, “for better or worse”.  Because if she wasn’t, my life would be way more of a hot mess than it already is.   

It’s damn hard to make time for your family while you’re struggling to turn a profit in what’s likely one of the hardest industries to do so on the planet.  But it’s a necessity, and something I’m frequently reminded that I need to improve on. 

Conservation

While I’m not entirely sure this fits in here, let me attempt to explain my focus on “fisheries conservation” in the context of being a charter boat Captain. 

Yes, there’s a contingent of the Charter fleet that just wants to be able to kill more fish so their clients can go home with more meat.  But there’s another contingent that puts more value on fish in the water.  Because for them, the emphasis is on the experience rather than meat.  And really, at the heart of it, the experience is probably 90% of why clients book trips… 100% for some.  Of course, some of the time/most of the time, clients want to take home a fish or two, but if that were the primary reason they went?  Well, it seems much cheaper and less time consuming to go to the fish market.

It’s a pretty simple truth that all charter operations need enough fish in the water to where they are readily accessible, and Captains can assure folks they have a good shot at catching fish. And if too many folks kill too many fish, well then of course there are less in the water.   And come on man, without fish to target, we’re all done. 

Even within the legal limits, while it’s human nature to load up, I HATE the inevitable waste it sometimes perpetuates in some fisheries.  Thus, we put caps on some species like yellowfin, even though we are entitled to kill more.  Because IMO, there’s no reason to go home with a few hundred pounds of tuna, especially when you clearly don’t even have room to store it.  And, uhm, it’s a huge PIA to have to clean them all, especially when you have to get the boats fueled up and ready for the next day.   

Getting back on point, while conservation has always been painted as altruistic, the intent really, at least in this context, is selfish.  The end goal is access to an abundance of fish, so I can have good trips, and people come back, and so I can stay in business. When you boil everything else away, I’ve always just wanted to minimize tough days on the water, and that awful, helpless feeling when you just can’t find them no matter what you do.  Because THAT really sucks…

So, absolutely, I’ve spent A LOT of time making sure that point of view became clear during the management process.  Through serving on various management bodies mostly, but also though writing blogs like this one.  Because the truth is that I am/we are one of the most relevant stakeholders, given the economic ties to marine resources. 

But let me tell you firsthand, being involved in the management of such marine resources, as a stakeholder whose day-to-day depends on their availability, may be one of the most difficult and frustrating parts of all this (and there’s a LOT of difficult and frustrating parts).  And for that reason, yeah, maybe I’ve stepped away from that side of things for a bit.  But, to be real, my conscience is bothering me some for doing that.  Because IMO, if you are making a living from a public natural resource, you should be damn sure you’re to some extent involved with its management.  Even if it’s just showing up at a public hearing, submitting comments etc.  Or educating your clients, letting them know that they don’t have to “limit-out” to have a great trip.  That said, I wouldn’t wish doing time on any of the Councils or the Commission on even my worse enemy (joking here, kind of). 

Let’s move on. 

The fishing

Now that we’ve gotten all of that out of the way, let’s talk about the driving force that makes me who I am, makes us who we are. 

It’s the fishing man… 

Yeah, all of the above may be construed as bitching and moaning, but the truth is that it really IS the best job in the world.  At least it is for the few of us dumb enough and/or addicted enough actually do what it takes to make a living here. 

Because, in fishing there are SO many intense and profoundly beautiful moments.  Like that extraordinary sense of anticipation when you’re loading the boat, or when you’re on the skiff at 2:30am, castnet in hand.  The ride out on flat calm water as the sun inches over the horizon.   When it all comes together, and a big fish crushes a popper in a hole of whitewater, there are shouts all around the boat as line screams off the reel, and the huge adrenaline dump that comes with it all.  The suspense and the “please God, don’t let’em lose this fish” follows, sometimes for well over an hour.  And assuming you land the fish?  High-fives and “F-yeahs!” all around. 

It is in those moments that a seeming crappy mundane world becomes extraordinary, and all of the sudden life seems like it’s actually worth living.   

It’s more than that though.  You are sharing that kinda stoke.  You create memories.  Sometimes it’s for just that one guy, or it’s for him and his friends, and damn if it isn’t awesome when it’s with a boy and his father.  These are the kind of memories that last a lifetime.  For them… even for me. 

Because the truth is this kinda stuff NEVER gets old…  EVER.  Not for me, probably not for anybody that does this.

And when the fishing is good?  You get to do that sh*t EVERY day! 

It’s the ultimate high. 

But…like any good high, you are bound to get addicted. 

When you are out there, every day hunting and killing sh*t, living on adrenaline and energy drinks…then all of the sudden you look out one day and snow is falling, the phone calls/emails/texts have trickled to one or two a week, and you’re staring aimlessly at a computer screen.  Well, that’s kinda hard on your psyche. 

Of course, I can only speak personally here, but I’ve come to need this job  – all of it – to feel, ahem, normal.  It’s not just those moments of euphoria.  It’s everything leading up to it.  The sh*tty 2am to 7pm schedule, the back-breaking work, the squeezing into impossibly small bilges, the perpetual exhaustion. 

And that makes stretches when you’re not turning-and-burning pretty uncomfortable.

In the offseason, yeah, I stay pretty busy working on the boats, writing and doing conservation related work.  But still man – I’ll be honest – I have a hard time, uhm, living during the winter.    

And physically? As I get older I’m finding that there are real consequences to all that ass kicking and lack of sleep.  Your back gets compressed and your hips torqued, and it’s often that it hurts, a lot, just to get out of bed… and I’m not really talking about just during fishing season anymore.  And the chronic lack of rest for 8 months of the year starts to catch up with you in ways I don’t want to mention here. 

Yeah man…at the “young” age of fifty-one, I’m starting to feel like an outboard with 3k hours on her.  And most of those hours are at 5k-rpms.  Things are starting to fail and need fixing, and maybe, if I don’t want to blow a powerhead, I can’t run her as hard as she used to be run.  It’s not age, it’s milage…  Really, I may be an experiment, as I’m the only dumbass I know of that runs offshore in a center console every day the weather allows it.  I can’t imagine my body is going to hold up to this kind of beating forever, because when I can move beyond the denial, it’s clear to me that it’s already showing signs of failure. 

Doesn’t’ matter though, there’s no turning back… I don’t think I could willfully stop now if I wanted to.  I’m gonna run it till the wheels fall off.  And after that?  Well, I really don’t know.  Better damn well figure it out though because I’m likely running out of time. 

So ya still wanna be a charter boat Captain?

Unquestionably some folks are drawn to the sea in a way that most can’t really understand.  But if I haven’t communicated it clearly, living this kinda life ain’t for pussies.  There are tradeoffs and real sacrifices.  It’s not a job…  It’s a lifestyle.  And it’s hard living man. 

And from a financial standpoint?  It’s perhaps the dumbest business imaginable.  You can work as hard as ya can, and even push it a bit more after that if you’re exceptionally tough.  But there are simply too many variables beyond your control to count on anything. 

The truth is that you have to be a little bit insane to want this.  And you have to want it real bad.   

But hey, that’s me… I’ve fully accepted the fact that I’m a fish-junky…  and I’m not alone.  Why else would anyone work those ridiculous hours for such a small return.  The sea pulls you in, and it keeps you with a tight grip. It’s why most commercial fishermen can’t be bought out.  Why they stay in a fishery till the bitter end.  Like any addiction, it’s hard, or maybe even impossible to quit.  

Just about all the watermen I know are restless, obsessed, intense people.  Not just on the boat, but in life itself.  And yeah, maybe not so nice sometimes. 

I’ve come to believe that the primary reason for that is because of the addiction to the sea, not only to those beautiful moments, but to the process that leads up to them.  You focus your life on that sort of thing, and do everything it takes to make those moments happen…  Not just for yourself, but for clients.  Because creating those memories, sharing those epic moments, that’s all part of it.   

But…you regularly go from high-highs to, well, real life which is often seems bland and soul-sucking.  And that sort of seesaw isn’t healthy.  Because if you can’t understand it and control it, it makes you dislike people in general, and you lose the ability to relate to those things that normal people relate to.  And, most importantly, it makes you an a-hole.  And that is NOT a good look…  particularly when you’re in the service business, and clients are giving you their hard-earned dollars to have an enjoyable day.   

It’s taken a good two decades for me to see all this, although I’m still not sure I’ve gotten it 100% right.  And while I’d like to say that understanding it all has maybe freed me, it hasn’t. 

But hey man…  I’m working on it…  One day at a time.    

Let me offer a blanket apology for being “salty” (aka an a-hole), but “I am what I am, and it’s all that I am”. 

So, do you really wanna be a charter Captain?  Do you have it in you to work 16 hours a day, for under $10 an hour.   I mean, ya have to be a little bit stupid, and a full-on junkie to do that.  And once you’re in, it just gets worse.  You’ll make extraordinary sacrifices for a taste.  It’ll make you shun the “real world” and loath the idea of working behind a desk.  And on those long days on the water with no life, you’ll make deals with the devil.  Deals that you’ll likely find one day, you’ll pay dearly for. 

If you’re good with all that, then shoot me an email.  We’re hiring… 

#radiosilence.