There's a story to tell every day out here. As the miles glide by resources unending pique interest and memory; resources both natural and human. There is nothing like a good conversation to ignite a new thought; some illustration providing momentary clarity, or some comment illuminating an obvious point obscured or overlooked. Such opportunity is one of the many reasons I relish the time at sea among wise friends. Not all fit in this category of course, but long ago I ceased to be surprised by what one may glean from even the most unlikely character.

As a dialogue today unfolded concerning the modern tools anglers have at their disposal to judge conditions and plan voyages one fact, supported by endless irrefutable results, was painfully clear. No matter how technical one becomes, no matter how many charts, graphs, statistics, and blog masters one consults, the original draw of fishing - the mystery, the mystique, is still secure. The safe has not been, and probably never will, be cracked. I live for the times when the unexpected upends conventional patterns and/or beliefs surprising many and rewarding few. There is no guarantee out here - on both sides of the equation. There is still a reason to just go fishing.

Of course this idea must be rationally applied; blasting out into a full gale seeking yellowfin tuna in 56 degree green water in February is an obvious stretch; forming an idea based on some conventional notion such as "there are no wahoo caught in December" or "there are no 200 hundred pound yellowfin in October" is a better example. Thinking that the results of a long range voyage one year somehow play into the next is another fine example. I've proffered my wisdom on this topic in many past narratives. One never really knows, and one never will know the results of a voyage in advance. The special nature of fishing is the unknown; the ultimate reward is besting the odds.

I'll present a question to all of you: Is it better to head into a voyage with reports of pure doom and gloom everywhere, find the unexpected mother lode, then load up and return in glory? Or, is it better to depart with reports of glory on the bow, arrive in the zone, get your share, and return in triumph? It may be that the question evinces differences between the perspective of one behind the helm and one fishing on deck. But, on long range vessels we are all in the same boat, and, during extended voyages, inevitably congeal into a group mind. At the very least veteran long range anglers, who have likely experienced both extremes, can appreciate the query.

We're still sliding down bypassing the islands above in favor of whatever we find below. Plans are to get down to business tomorrow offering anglers the chance to stretch their muscles and reacquaint themselves with the rail. This will be a warm up stop in preparation for the big show beyond - we hope.

Tim Ekstrom