Yachting USA — February 2018

EDITOR’S LETTER

30YACHTINGFE BRUA RY2 01 8

tom serio

JUST ONE MORE

T

he mid-december sky was steely gray, a dominating tone in the North-

east during winter. There’s a cold to the air at this time of year that cuts you to

the bone, layers be damned. I drove along the waterfront, warming my insides

by recalling a fun and fortunate season on the salt.

There was my fi rst off shore trip on a balmy, early June day. The seas were glass during

the 15-hour excursion. I can still see the cobalt water and its crystalline visibility. Our

fi shing team’s annual pilgrimage to Ocean City, Maryland, in August saw me catch my

fi rst blue marlin on 30-pound tackle. I had the chance to get on board numerous yachts

around the globe and sea-trial some stunning vessels in the south of France and England.

It was a season to remember, and one I wasn’t ready to let go.

Ducks bobbed in a line along the brown marsh on frigid water. Seals messed about near

some buoys in the channel. The arrival of those shiny-headed, whiskered mammals often

signals the end of boating season. But not on this day.

My phone beeped. It was a text from my friend Tom. “Looks like we can get out on

Saturday?” The forecast was for light winds, but with an air temperature right around

freezing — and snow was coming. I said yes without hesitation.

Saturday morning came, and dark clouds hung low. The sport-fi sherman’s side decks had

an icy coating. But as her engines warmed up, and with the heat cranking, belowdecks became

a downright cozy 72 degrees Fahrenheit. The water was still, and the tide was almost high.

Dropping some lines, we made quick work of several dozen herring. As we ran out to the

ocean, we saw a dozen or so other boaters who had the same idea: one more trip. We cruised

up and down the beach, running out from the bridge deck to catch an end-of-season striped

bass here and there as snow soon came down in force. Visibility was zero. We just kept

going, laughing about how many marbles we all had left. It was male bonding at its fi nest.

After returning to the dock, pink-faced and nearing an early stage of hypothermia, Tom

called out while snow pelted his face: “How about next week?”

“I can make that work,” I said.

THE FORECAST WAS FOR LIGHT WINDS, BUT

WITH AN AIR TEMPERATURE RIGHT

AROUND FREEZING — AND SNOW WAS COMING.

patrick sciacca

Editor-in-Chief

[email protected]