If I believed in numbers and odds and probabilities I would give up on fishing tournaments tomorrow. The chance I'll make the money again in a Homer Winter King Salmon Derby or a Halibut Derby is roughly the same chance that someday I'll own a horse that wins the Kentucky Derby.
Photo provided by Christian Black
Homer News reporter Ben Stuart holds up the 10th-place fish in the 2008 Homer Winter King Derby.
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In an event that requires a little bit of skill and a whole lot of luck, I am unfortunately lacking in both, as my fishing record can prove. Which made Sunday's tournament and that night's awards ceremony a little strange.
For the first time in a lengthy yet disappointing "fishing for money" career, I got to walk up in front of a crowd of people and accept a trophy and check for catching a fish. I tied for 10th place by catching a 23.8-pounder.
I had observed others win money for catching fish. I had taken their picture and written stories about their day.
But it had never happened to me.
Which brings me back to statistics, and any mathematical improbability that it will happen to me again.
Thinking about the odds is a little overwhelming really.
For starters, of the 793 anglers and 236 boats that fished on Sunday, 94 people actually caught fish, which equates to one fish for every 8.4 people or one fish for every 2.5 boats.
Of those 94 fish, only 10 earned cash, or one out of 9.4.
Another way to look at it is one out of every 79 people made the money and an angler on one out of 23 boats did. On the boat I was fishing on, there were three anglers so I had a one-in-three chance of standing next to the rod when it popped off.
All these statistics are making my head spin, but essentially boil down to the fact that this little story I'm telling here won't likely have a sequel.
That being said, it's a sure bet you'll see me out there on the water again and here's why.
For me, there is a difference between the purpose of fishing in a fishing derby and the reason for doing so.
The purpose, of course, is to catch the biggest fish and take home all the glory.
The reason to enter these derbies is something else.
For me, it boils down to the chance to have an experience like I had Sunday an experience that had more highs and lows than a tide chart.
It started on a high note the weather seemed calmer than on Saturday, we got out of the harbor at a good time and excitement and anticipation for the day was high.
Then about a half-hour into the derby, way out on the bluffs, the main engine of our captain's boat decided to quit and not start again.
The thought of limping back to the Spit on the 15 horsepower auxiliary motor certainly put a damper on things.
Then, about a half-hour after that, the inboard fired up again. And just as it did, the rod tip closest to me went slack.
I jumped at the rod only to give it a tug and not feel anything on the other line.
"I think it got off," I said. Then, wait, nope there's a fish on this thing.
From the depths of despair to jubilation in a matter of 60 seconds, it was an experience I'll never forget.
Then the fish started behaving funny. There was a lot of head shaking like a halibut and when it reached the surface it dove straight down instead of out like many kings do.
It wasn't until it came up beside the boat did we realize it was a salmon.
We netted the fish just as the hook popped out of its mouth and then the whole boat erupted in high fives and smiles as we plopped her in the cooler.
It was bigger than average, we thought, maybe 25 pounds, which typically is good enough to win a prize.
And we still had about six hours of fishing time in the day, a motor that works and sun on our faces.
It really couldn't get much better than that, we thought.
And we were right, it didn't.
For the next six hours the waves got bigger and the fishing got slower. We didn't get a bite and saw only one other fish being caught. On the way back, the motor started choking again as we surfed the six-foot swells back into the harbor.
After weighing the fish we waited around for the results and were a little disheartened when the 20th-place fish weighed in at 21.2 pounds.
But as the weights were announced 21.4, 21.6, 22.2 our excitement grew once again.
You can keep your numbers and odds and probabilities.
While the fish weighed 23.8 pounds, tied for 10th place and was worth $1,189.50, the experience of that crazy day and the memories I'll always keep forever are worth much, much more.
Ben Stuart can be reached at ben.stuart@homernews.com.
