If you would have told me in the last few years that I would reconnect with my love of American Sign Language on a fishing boat in the middle of Lake Erie, I wouldn’t have believed you.
It’s funny how we all have old skills that lie dormant, sometimes for years. But when we live adventurously and try new things, it’s amazing how quickly all of our skills are needed, used and brought to life again.
I was sipping a thermos of coffee and seagulls were crying in the gray morning light when I boarded The Pirate Clipper. The captain, Eric, and his first mate John greeted me and introduced me to another passenger, Matt.
The Pirate Clipper was a stunning fishing boat, fully equipped with a warm, comfortable cabin, a deck fitting several people and two stories. Eric has been professionally chartering fishing trips for the last 11 years. As his recommendation from the other charter captain indicated, he has a reputation at the lake, not just for knowing what he’s doing, but for finding hungry Walleye every time he goes out on the water.
I climbed aboard with an excited smile.
There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now, I thought. That was most definitely going to change once we hit the lake.
“We’re just waiting on the last two,” Eric said. “They texted me that they are hearing impaired. You said you know sign language?”
Eric was taking a mixed group today, which he said is a rarity. Most people book as a group, so he doesn’t often have a mix of individual strangers aboard. He had never had a deaf passenger, and it was a complete coincidence that I ended up on board the same day.
We saw a middle-aged man and woman walking down the dock. They smiled, waved, and walked up. I realized immediately that they were both fully deaf.
“I’m Katie,” I signed. “I know sign language, but it’s been a while.”
They both grinned with excitement and introduced themselves as Lori and Greg. They were brother and sister, Lori explained.
I fingerspelled the names of everyone on board and introduced them. Then we went into the warm cabin and sat down.
“I have to give a safety talk now,” John said, and amazingly I fumbled through a translation as the engine rumbled underneath us. Lori was wonderfully helpful at assisting me in learning signs. I would fingerspell the beginning of a word I didn’t know and she would show me the sign. We quickly became able to converse and began chatting as the boat took off toward the open lake.
Out on the deck, you could see hundreds of seagulls flocking across the sky in front of the rising sun. I was still drinking my morning coffee and feeling great. And then, the boat started to tilt. As the water grew choppier in the open lake, the boat tilted side to side and forward and backward in an almost circular motion.
I knew I was getting motion sick, but I ignored it. I could feel the tell-tale feeling in my eyes and stomach as I watched Eric and John put the fishing poles in place and explain what they were doing.
“We’re letting each of these lines out 100 feet,” John said.
A wave of nausea washed over me. I knew I was about to vomit, but I couldn’t decide on a polite way to broach the topic.
“Have you ever had someone lose their breakfast before?” I asked the captain lightly.
“Oh, lots and lots of times,” he said.
“Because I’m about to,” I said, and lurched over the side of the boat and retched into the choppy water. I recovered, wiped my face, and turned back around. For a few minutes, I felt good again. Then the waves of nausea started up.
I broke out in a sweat. Ten minutes later, I was draped over the side of the boat throwing up again. And ten minutes later, again. There was nothing left in my stomach so it was just dry heaving ceaselessly.
“You know the good thing about you?” the first mate said, kindly putting his hand on my shoulder and handing me a water bottle and a paper towel after the fourth time. “You’re real quiet about it.”
I chuckled. But at that point I felt like lying down and dying. I went into the cabin and sank down on the couch to rest a minute and contemplate my options. It was 9:30 a.m. and the captain had said the boat stays out for as long as eight or nine hours. If I ended up passed out on the floor, maybe I’d ask them to take me back. But until then, I told myself, I was going to have to suck it up.
I took a few sips of water and headed back out on the deck, just in time for one of the poles to bend low toward the water.
Lori spotted it and waved the captain’s attention.
I knew I was about to vomit, but I couldn’t decide on a polite way to broach the topic. “Have you ever had someone lose their breakfast before?” I asked the captain lightly. “Oh, lots and lots of times,” he said. “Because I’m about to,” I said, and lurched over the side.
“Fish!” he said.
The first mate handed me the pole.
“Reel it in, nice and easy,” he said. I turned the reel and watched the line steadily move back in. Then I could see my fish, green and smooth, flopping around and fighting the line just underneath the surface.
“Pole up! Keep reeling!” John grabbed the net and caught the fish in it just it came up out of the water.
“Is this your first Walleye?” he asked. “Because you have to kiss it.”
I held the fish and kissed it, then threw it in the cooler just in time. I had to throw up again.
By this time, I was becoming accustomed to the waves of nausea and the periodic vomiting. In between, I was actually having a fun time. It was impossible not to have fun on the deck of a fishing boat reeling in Walleye after Walleye.
In Ohio, the limit for Walleye is six per day. Eric said he’d had a streak this summer of catching the limit for each passenger every single trip. His streak had only ended the day before, when a passenger got sick and asked to go back early.
“I’d have had a perfect season,” he said wistfully. “But I did think I’d have to pick that guy up off the floor yesterday.”
By noon, we’d caught 20 fish, just under the total 24 limit for the day. Translating for Lori and Greg had been a welcome distraction and I was feeling better as we laughed, signed and caught fish after fish. They were fun, kind people who took pictures of me and cheered every time we reeled in a fish.
It had begun to rain, so Lori and I retreated to the warm cabin and conversed a while. She told me that she and Greg had two other siblings who were hearing. She teaches ASL, and Greg is a carpenter. Greg loves to fish and Lori was along for the adventure.
“Sign for A-D-V-E-N-T-U-R-E?” I fingerspelled.
Lori smiled and rubbed her hands together eagerly.
“Adventure,” she mouthed.
I smiled and rubbed my hands together eagerly. I liked that sign. It described how I felt.
Lori was mid-sentence when I jumped up. I barely had time to sign, “sick,” before I ran out on deck and leaned over my spot.
When I was done, I stayed out on the deck. I was warmed up and the cool, wet air felt amazing.
“There’s another fish!” John said, handing me a reel.
I reeled in two more to total my six and then Lori brought in the last one. We’d hit the limit. By 1:30, we were headed back to the dock at Huron.
On the way in, Eric let me drive the boat a while.
We docked and I signed to Lori and Greg what John said about how to get to the fish cleaner and how to store the fish later. When we climbed off the boat, they smiled and thanked me gratefully. We said goodbyes and we watched them happily make their way down the dock.
The first mate pulled me aside.
“I believe things happen for a reason,” he said. “And the fact that you ended up on the boat today couldn’t have been an accident.”
Eric said he and John would take my fish to the cleaner and meet up with me later at a restaurant in Marblehead that would cook them.
“OK, I’ll see you later,” I grinned. I bid farewell to The Pirate Clipper and walked down the dock.
It was 2 p.m., I’d survived the day, and I was absolutely starving. I laughed. I felt amazing.