By Capt. Tim Ramsey
Years ago, in a fishing magazine I saw a boat called “FITOA.” It meant “Fishing Is The Only Answer.” Some may wonder the question, while others understand completely. I think it’s one of the answers to life. One of them. There are many and they are all connected. Here’s what I mean. I’ve been lots of places. Some were to go fishing. Some were not. However, fishing was occurring whether it was me or someone else, and in some unexpected places.
Like during wartime. We used to regularly travel by helicopter to a camp in the Nangarhar province of eastern Afghanistan. One day I noticed the Pashtun camp commander had a fishing rod propped up in a corner and asked him about it. Fast forward to he and I knee deep in a local river, myself in body armor, armed with an M-4 carbine, fishing for their version of trout, as two armored vehicles with men standing in turrets on top behind .50 caliber machine guns faced up and down the river protecting us from the Taliban. Or stationed in strange places. In South Korea we had a man who fished in what we considered a drainage ditch on the side of the road, around the corner from our little camp, ten miles from the Demilitarized Zone (way above the 38th parallel, what troops call the “No Smile Line”). The fish were no bigger than a whitebait or greenback, but he smiled happily as he ate them, still flapping, straight from hook to mouth. Or on vacation. We went to Bali a few times surfing and ended up fishing. Planned on one thing and did another. Same thing in Costa Rica, Panama, Belize, Hawaii, Germany, Hong Kong, Kuwait, Iraq, Oman, Qatar, Egypt, and the United Arab Emirates. Even on a cruise, fishing from the ship while at anchor. It was the same going to Florida, North Carolina, New Jersey, Hawaii, Tennessee, Kentucky, Houston, and the list goes on.
Now I fish in Florida from a boat and think of the little differences that made it a fishing trip in other places. Fishing in Abu Dhabi meant that as we were scuba diving, locals would roar up in their 40-foot center consoles with quad outboards and hand-line for little snappers and grunts as we were 80-feet down watching the dangling baits. In Dubai they used telescopic fishing rods bought at the department store. Didn’t matter if they were fishing off the bank or in a boat. We hand-lined off that cruise ship and caught flying fish. In Costa Rica I watched a man about 5’2” tall take a 5-foot trolling rod as thick as a broomstick with a Penn Senator the size of a volleyball attached to it sling a silver spoon so far, I couldn’t see it when it landed. It’s still the most amazing cast I’ve ever seen. In the spring in New Jersey, my son and I stand thigh-deep in the cold inlet water surf casting for big blues and striped bass, followed by beers and steaks. In the summer those fish are somewhere else.
So, fishing really is the answer. “FITA.” Is it really “FITOA?” Who knows. It might be. We can do it alone or in groups, for fun, food, or money. It can be pastime, tradition, or part of a culture. We all seem to do it. It’s how we’re connected. Put our differences aside and we’re all just a bunch of people that love to fish. For some, I think, so passionate about it, fishing really is the only answer.
