What First-Time Deep-Sea Fishing Feels Like | Seward, Alaska

This was the first time I had ever fished, deep-sea fishing out of Seward, Alaska. I was sure I would catch nothing. I caught four rockfish. An unexpected gift.

Some people, once a fish is on, yank the rod up and crank the reel as hard as they can, and haul the fish in by force. I don’t. For me the pleasure is in playing it. The instant the rod bends, I lift a few times, take line, and — as expected — meet a lot of resistance. It feels like a large fish, so I stop forcing it, let the rod drop, and work it left and right. There are more rounds of pull. When it is more or less swimming on my terms, I take line fast, rest and play it again when I cannot, until it comes to the surface.

Once it was on the surface I lost interest. Underwater, the pull still had a kind of unknown. After it came up I did not want to look at that dark, ugly thing in the water. I asked a crewman to lift it. The fish rolled on the deck, dying hard. He stunned it with a club to the head. It looked like fun; I said I wanted to try. Then he tore the hook from its mouth and blood sprayed the deck. I felt sick and went back into the cabin. Knocking it out for play would have been fine; I did not want any of the blood on me. Good I had not stood closer.

That was how I took four rockfish without much trouble. The limit is two per person, so the last two went back. I changed bait for salmon. Salmon are harder. Ten-odd minutes, nothing. I moved to the bow. Still nothing. No one else was there; the swell was large; the boat pitched. I sat alone in the bow, squinting at mountains in cloud and a whale pod appearing and disappearing far off, and felt a little as if I had left the world. Twice a fish took the bait, and twice it ran when I went to the rod. No respect. I was not fishing seriously anyway.

After half an hour I still had no salmon, so I did get the empty-handed feeling. A crewman hooked a big gold-colored fish and let it go. People thought it a waste. I would have let it go too. However fine a fish looks, they more or less taste the same.

I have three stages of fishing. Before you start, it seems hard, you are a beginner, you will go home with nothing. When you have one on, playing it is interesting; once it is aboard, dealing with it is a bother. Catch enough and you cannot be bothered — fishing is only that, after all. Better to stand apart, take the wind, and look at the view.