By Wiley Watson
I was driving up dock grade and got the call from Terry, “Hey can you go to Panama next week?” Hmmm, I did a quick mental run through of my obligations as a modern-day adult and responded appropriately, “is this a fishing trip?” Glancing over the edge of the grade, which used to be a two-way street, but was changed to a one-way after a few unlucky drivers ventured off the edge of the cliff, Terry responded, “yes,” fishing and boating from Panama City to the Darien Gap’s Tropic Star Lodge.
After the mental download, I responded, “Ok”, standby, let me call my wife.
Six days later I was on a redeye headed to Panama City to link up with the Seakeeper Crew and hop aboard a 57 Spencer Sport Fishing Yacht. Seakeeper is the primary player in the marine motion control technology space and invited a few media members down to Central America to showcase and test their new “Ride” system.
We rolled up to the marina with quite the entourage and a pile of my camera gear. With three crew members, three Seakeeper folk, three media folk and the boat owner, plus friends, we were going to get really friendly, real quick! After a quick run-through of gestures and handshakes we pushed off from the marina and started our 120-mile commute to the famed Tropic Star Lodge.
Tropic Star Lodge is world renowned for its black marlin fishery and sits tucked away in the Darien Gap, on the southernmost point of Panama. Venture another 20 miles to the south and you will set foot in Colombia. Founded by oil tycoon Ray Smith in 1963, TSL and the surrounding fishery haven’t changed much, and that’s for the better, as lack of human pressure, alongside strict catch-and-release practices continue to earn its nickname as the “Jurassic Park of Fishing.”
Tequila Seas & Sailfish
Eighty miles into our boat ride, I arose from a nice nap on the helm as our motors began to ease off the rpms. Shaking off a bit of jet lag, I asked Capt. Bryce, “where we at Cap?” He responded, “Basically middle of nowhere, in 2,500 feet of water, but they’ve been catching sails around here, so we’re going to get our spread out and give it a shot.”
Two sips of afternoon coffee later we rose a sailfish on the teasers, pitched a ballyhoo and had a tight line. Kelsey, from SK, who ran point on this trip, was first up, and within a few minutes we had that fish to the leader, tagged, then released. Still up on the helm, I started to take notice of our stability at sea, less rock and pitch, while sitting idle; this is cool. Andrew (president of Seakeeper), as if reading my mind gestured, “that gyro sure makes for a smooth ride up here on the helm.” Looking at my cup, I responded, it sure does, and I haven’t stained my T-shirt yet.
Two hours and eight sails later, we brought in the spread and started the remainder of our jaunt to TSL. Pulling up to the cove was a sight to behold for any first timer, a dense mountainous jungle backdrop, alongside a fleet of refitted 31 Bertrams and some spacious lodging nestled into the dramatic hillside. After some fishing talk and a few dockside beers, our crew retreated to our jungle abode and called it a day.
Greeted with 40+mph winds, we arose to a much different world that morning. The ocean looked mean, and the clouds were black as night. “Hmm … This should be an interesting day at sea,” I thought. With the lodge at capacity, the dock was buzzing with anticipation from 30-plus anglers to enjoy a day filled with fishing. As we motored out of the bay and hit the high seas, the swell and chop had subsided quite a bit, but it was still a much different ocean than the day prior. The fishing yielded different results as well. It was slow. Though, the lack of bite gave our crew ample time to connect, chat and share many fishing tales.
With land no longer in sight and more storm clouds approaching, one feels quite small in the deep blue, even on a boat of this size. As we continued to troll along the edge of the fathom lines, I felt a little jaded from the prior days hot bite but couldn’t help but to think of this quote from William Arthur Ward, “The pessimist complains about the wind: The optimist expects it to change. The realist adjusts the sails.”Sheesh, ain’t that the truth. “Pull in the spread boyz!”, we’re pointing this vessel to land,” Capt’n Bryce blurted out. “Well that’s one way to adjust the sails,” I thought to myself. As we put the Spenser on plane, and started running along the other boats, one really starts to notice the difference of a boat with a Seakeeper and without. It reminded me of my motorcycle racing days and the difference between a stock bike and a tuned race bike— night and day to the rider who is attuned to what is and what isn’t.
Taking a RIDE with Seakeeper
I will admit, I haven’t spent a tremendous amount of time on a Sportfishing yacht, my seat time has been mostly in smaller aluminum craft from the Pacific Northwest and the classic Mexican “panga” from my winters in Baja. But what really piqued my interest from the team was learning more about the Seakeeper “Ride” system, which is a significantly more affordable tech that you can implement on smaller boats. In short, the Seakeeper Ride is a transom-mounted Vessel Attitude Control System. It utilizes high-speed sensors and rotary blades to dampen roughly 70% of the pitch, roll, and yaw while you’re running on plane, effectively smoothing out the bumps and making for a significantly more comfortable experience on the water. To this experience I concur.
Our last day we arose to calm seas and a stunning sunrise. The alarm felt a bit rough, as we endured a tequila-fueled evening of laughs, learning, family stories and stabilizer tech. Did I mention the heat? Sweating profusely, I hurried around the dock shooting the morning’s final scenes on 35mm film with my heirloom Pentax. Shaking my thick head, I adjusted the sails, said a quick farewell to new dock friends andstepped aboard the Patriot, as this would be our final day at sea with her.
The ocean was in full cooperation on this fine morning. Five minutes into setting out our spread, I saw a bill chasing the teaser and screamed “Right side teaser! Right side teaser! A curious sailfish was on our six and one pitch bait later we had our first tight line of the day. An offering of a day it was, as the sails kept coming, our program felt tight and dare I say we felt legit? I was on the helm again shooting some super 8 film when our deckhand screamed, “Blue Marlin! Blue Marlin!” That’s when things really got legit, it was a tremendous blue, glowing with bright colorations and dancing around the teaser with powerful vigor. Our first pitch didn’t take well, and we thought our chances were over, but the beast resurfaced a few minutes later behind the spread and this time the second bite stuck and it was game on. In moments like this, the value of an expert crew, a synchronized captain, and a flawlessly configured boat is laid bare for all to see. Thirty minutes later, our first mate grabbed leader on what was estimated to be around a 350-pound blue. Not a giant, but neither small; it was a great way to end the day of fishing on a jovial high.
In three days’ time we covered 250+ miles of water, caught 16 sails, one blue and a handful of mahi mahi. We had calm seas, rough seas, and tequila seas on land. My takeaway as of right now follows—it’s a two-way street in the boating world, and that’s boats with Seakeeper systems and boats without. And who knows, maybe in a few years’ time it will be just a one-way street, of only boats manned with Seakeepers.
Book your own Central American adventure with Field Ethos Outrider.
