Fighting the Pacific.



It’s not what it looks like, I swear.

The fish out of water is not the Pacific sailfish. It’s me.

I’m from Kansas City. I was born and raised 1,048 miles from the Atlantic ocean, 1,505 miles from the Pacific ocean, and 647 miles from the Gulf of Mexico. All cow-tipping jokes aside, I don’t know what I’m doing.


Scott and I are friends with some of the best anglers, mates, and captains in the world. We spent four days in Costa Rica aboard the Fish Tank. We released 84 sailfish in three days –  we tagged each sailfish in the water and let them go. It’s called sports fishing.

The mahi and yellowfin tuna were not let go because I love a good mahi taco with seared ahi tuna appetizer. You can’t get that in Kansas.


We all have hobbies. We all have something we like to do for pleasure. I collect passport stamps – no, not to see the world but to fight the ocean.

No one said hobbies are cheap. Wait, what’s that saying?

“Give a man a fish, he’ll eat for a day.

Teach a man to fish, he’ll eat for lifetime.”

Or maybe…

“Give a woman a fish, pass the wasabi.

Teach a women to fish, she’ll hightail it to the nearest ocean because if she’s going to be fighting a fish, that fish better try to pull her out of the boat.”

I stumbled upon saltwater fishing years ago. Scott is an outdoorsman. He hunts. He fishes. He kills alligators. The idea that our kids bond us as a couple is nice but the kids are becoming less dependent, back talking us on a daily basis. Fishing doesn’t leave the nest to become an adult.

If I needed to find a hobby in Scott’s world, it would have to be fishing. I can’t stand the cold nor do I have a desire to hunt. And chasing an alligator in a john boat makes me want to throw my ruby slipper at Scott’s face for putting me in that kind of danger.

Sure, Scott and I could have bonded over cooking or running marathons that can be done on any given weekend. But no, we chose fishing because having a long distance hobby is sexy.

Fishing is not what it looks like, I swear.


I don’t have enough words to thank the Fish Tank crew. You revived a couple landlocked Kansas kids. Enjoy that Kansas City barbecue! Thank you, Chris and Laura. You’re the best. Thanks for standing by our side, Tony and Erick. Kitt, you are amazing. And Captain Ben – well, what can I say? You’re Captain Perfect. Until next time, tight lines.


8 thoughts on “Fighting the Pacific.

    1. Ha! Badass for a Kansan?
      Hmmmm it feels like 100 pounds pulling on your rod and line. I wear a belt that the rod clips in. I feel the weight of the fish pulling against my torso too. The fish gets pissed every time you crank the reel, pulls harder. Your arms get tired quickly. I think the longest I’ve fought a fish is 30 minutes or so (blue marlin in Dominican Republic). These sails only take about 10-15 minutes. The captain will “back down” on the fish with the boat, making it easier.
      It’s a thrill, for sure. If I lived on water, I would be out there every chance I got.


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