More than 12 hours of fishing and there was nothing to show for it. For the crew of the Michelle-Anne II, it was just another long day of working and watching the open ocean. But then, they were in good company. None of the other 16 boats that surrounded the 38-footer hooked a bluefin either.
To a landlubber, the dawn-to-dusk trip out into the Atlantic Ocean may have seemed in vain, but to Captain Phil Grondin of Gray and his crew, the venture was full of purpose. There was the same sense of satisfaction enjoyed by inland fishermen who go no further than the pond out their back door to fish for trout. The logic is the same: "You don't know until you go."
Two weeks ago, there was not so much as a blip of a tuna on the fish finder on the Michelle-Anne II, but being out on the water was enough.
"It's a lot like deer hunting," said crew member Renee Allocca, comparing the pleasure in being on the ocean to the enjoyment of sportsmen who stalk whitetails in the woods.
Tuna fisherman view their sport as an elusive pursuit worth the drama and even the failure. They have to. It always comes down to being in the right place at the right time.
According to Brad McHale, the fishery management specialist at the National Marine Fisheries Service in Boston, the bluefin catch this year up and down the East Coast has been slow. The theory among fishermen, McHale said, is that the water temperature is so warm from the prolonged heat that the tuna are up near Canada.
However, things can and do turn around eventually, as evidenced by the commercial catch last year. McHale said the tuna harvest last year was the largest in 30 years, with about 930 metric tons caught by commercial fishermen in the United States, although most of those fish are caught in Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts areas, he said. And most were caught in the fall, McHale said.
"There are so many variables as to why we're not seeing substantial landings," McHale said. "The water temperatures, the weather conditions, the overall fishing effort, the price of gas, the price of dealers. There is an endless number of variables."
There are no such harvest numbers for recreational fishermen. Catch rates of tuna among sport fishermen are estimated based on telephone surveys and dockside interviews that are evaluated at the end of the season.
However, in the years to come, the National Marine Fisheries Service will be able to tell the catch rate of sport fishermen. McHale said a system introduced in 1998, that is still being worked out, will use tuna catch reports that are called in by phone or entered via the Internet to determine how many bluefins sports fishermen land.
He said right now, it seems somewhat promising for Maine sportsmen.
Just from reports McHale has heard, there seem to be vast numbers of small fish congregating around the Gulf of Maine. He said typically this time of year, those same schools would be on the south side of Cape Cod.
"One thing we are seeing (with commercial fishermen) is more landings taking place from the Gulf of Maine than there are off the southern side of Cape Cod," McHale said. "In the Gulf of Maine, it's been slow, but steady this year."
Last week, Allocca said there were eight to 10 tuna caught Monday and Tuesday near Portland, a week after the party on the Michelle-Anne II came home empty-handed.
And three weeks ago at Maine's only strictly tuna tournament, the Sturdivant Island Tuna Tournament, three of the top four winners hooked two tuna during the three-day event. Allocca, who helps to organize the fund-raiser, said those fishermen - John Harmon of Scarborough, Tom Goodwin of West Newbury, Mass., and Robert Lamarre of Bath - are seasoned saltwater fishermen who fish for tuna often, and that helps.
Still, as Grondin said, the majority of the time tuna fishing for anyone is filled with menial tasks, waiting for the thrill of fighting the fastest fish in the ocean.
Two weeks ago, Grondin, Allocca and LaBrecque busied themselves with the tasks at hand. Their numerous repetitive chores were necessary to increase their chances of catching a tuna. But they also served as superstitious rituals.
Every hour and a half they would check the bait lines, reel them in, see that the bait, which was hooked through the back, was looking lively. There was the ongoing work of catching more bait, be it herring or mackerel or pollock.
Then, the chum line had to be tended to, as LaBrecque cut up the bait and tossed it overboard to attract tuna. But Grondin joked that this was done more to pass the time.
"It amuses one person in the crew," he said.
Amusement seemed to be a key part of the quest. The chatter from the lobster fishermen on the radio was proof of that.
"All I've caught is a couple of incidental swordfish. And a 6-foot striper," one dead-panned.
From the hour the Michelle-Ann II left its mooring before 6 a.m. to the time it returned at 6 p.m., there was talk of superstitions and good-luck charms that were believed to help catch a tuna.
"I found my cleanest pair of dirty underwear this morning," said Paul LaBrecque of his lucky collection of dirty clothing.
For her part, Allocca had a party mix filled with peanuts, pretzels and chocolate. She'd sprinkle the snack in the water along with the chum, offering it up to the "tuna gods."
"It's good karma," she explained.
The chores that filled the day spent fishing 15 miles offshore were aimed at hooking a tuna, but they had added benefits. After several hours of jigging for bait such as mackerel and herring, Allocca reeled in a 23-inch haddock. So at least the fishermen went home with fresh fillets.
There also was some hope offered by the numerous sightings of whales, which feed on the same schools of fish as tuna.
In the end, when the bait was pulled in and the anchor hoisted, the only flurry of excitement was caused by a small poor beagle shark that followed in the bait line. This final catch summed up the passion in the day, as Allocca explained after cooing at the shark: "You have to be one with the fish."
More often than not, Grondin said, the tuna that is hooked gets away. And, more often than not, Allocca said, the signs that a tuna fishermen has got one on are false alarms.
"Blue sharks make good fire drills for us. Cheap balloons are another good reason for a fire drill," she said of the balloons that are tied to the 250-pound test line, and used to signal when a fish is hooked.
For the Michelle-Anne II crew, there wasn't even a fire drill. The constant glances at the radar were mostly stony, blank stares. Occasionally, Grondin, who has the distinction of landing four of the last six tuna he hooked, would perk up.
"Look at all those fish," he'd say.
But he was only referring to the bait the crew was catching. The quick, boomerang-shaped streak that indicated a tuna never showed.
"They can swim 55 miles per hour," Grondin said as he gazed at the fish finder.
It was only then he revealed the true quest of the day, which had nothing to do with the price a tuna would bring in on the Japanese market or the great satisfaction of catching a 500-pound fish. It had more to do with the adrenaline rush that comes when a tuna fishermen's got one on the line - and with the way it all ends up most of the time.
"I'd rather hook one, have the fight, and have it get away, than not hook one," Grondin said.
"I agree," Allocca boomed, her face to the ocean, her back to the others, as she busily fished for bait.
Staff Writer Deirdre Fleming can be contacted at 791-6452 or at:
dfleming@pressherald.com
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