Not 8 hours out of Bermuda, on our way south to the BVI, and not ten minutes from throwing the first of two lines over the side, we had our first Mahi Mahi on the hook.  15 pounds.

“Fish On! Fish On!” I yelled, as the reel buzzed and the line stripped out. I throttled down and put the engine in natural. As you can see, it was dead calm--we’d run out of wind early that afternoon and were now motoring through the Bermuda Triangle. Julie, my wife, handles the camera. My daughter, trained in what to do, dove below to fetch a dram of rum from the ship’s supply. I reeled in the fish. Rob the Mate, reeled in the second line and grabbed the gaff from its perch on the aft antenna mast.  Once the fish is over the life lines, the rum comes into play. A few splashes down the gullet and the fish goes immediately to sleep, and is easier to handle.

We caught three Mahi Mahi on our 6.5 day cruise to the Islands--more than half of that 840 NM trip under power. We shared our second fish with the crew of Harmony, a 34-foot sloop, that had run out of fuel and water about half way to the BVI. We found them one mid-night, drifting, awaiting our arrival. We sent over our four 6-gallon Jerry cans of spare fuel, a 10-gallon can of drinking water, and 12-points of freshly baked Mahi Mahi. Needles to say, we got cheers.

Our last Mahi Mahi was landed as we sailed over Barracuda Bank, within in sight of Tortola, our last morning out. We’d run  out of propane, so had no way to cook the fish, so I called Foxy at his bar on Jost Van Dyke; sure enough they’d cook us up an arrival dinner, with out own fish. It was my 70th birthday party dinner!