A Family’s First Outer Banks Charter Fishing Adventure

Written by Aaron Tuell on Jul. 21, 2022

I’ll say up front that I’m not exactly the sort of person who lives and breathes fishing, and money doesn’t magically spill from my pockets every time I stub a toe or misplace my keys. Still, I like to think I do alright in the dad department. I’m constantly thinking about the memories we can build together as a family. So when I tell you that my first offshore charter fishing trip with my son this summer became one of the most enjoyable and meaningful days I’ve ever spent on the Outer Banks, take that as a friendly nudge from someone who has called this place home for 20 years. I waited far too long to give it a try. What I learned is that the day is about much more than chasing fish in the Gulf Stream. Picture it: you’re bringing your kids out to the edge of the world and back, into a part of the planet that feels completely different. If you can make it happen, that is a serious dad-hero move, and it becomes the kind of story you and your kids keep telling for the rest of your lives.

A few weeks back, one of my wife’s coworkers asked whether I wanted to jump in on a Gulf Stream trip the following day. He had been trying to organize a high school reunion outing with friends, but a couple of people had backed out at the last minute. Luke and I have known each other for a long time, and my wife Megan offered to cover my spot as an extra Father’s Day present if I wanted to bring our nine-year-old son. As if the timing needed one more push, my younger brother happened to be on the OBX that weekend and had gone charter fishing that very morning for the first time with his own friends. There was a major tuna blitz going on that had folks from Richmond to Raleigh heading this way, and it sparked a little good-natured sibling competition. You probably know what I mean. After hearing that my brother’s charter group had landed 500 lbs. of fish among six buddies in a single afternoon, I couldn’t really say anything but yes. He was on my home turf, after all, and he had just gotten a taste of blue water fishing before I ever really had.

The usual process is pretty simple. If someone wants to head offshore for tuna, mahi, marlin, grouper, or whatever happens to be running, they contact a favorite marina or one near where they’re staying. From there, they can reserve a make-up spot on a charter boat or rent the whole boat for up to six people. Outer Banks marinas generally have their own websites, where you can browse boats through listings and photos to check availability during your stay, or you can let the marina help match you with a boat and crew that fit what you need.

Most of the boats, with their colorful names, also have their own websites. Those often include photos, background on the captain and mate, and details that overlap with the marina or dock website, including contact information for questions and reservations. On a make-up trip, if it’s only you, or you and one or two friends, the marina can pair you with other visitors in the same situation so the boat fills out with up to six people and everyone shares the cost. A full boat normally costs the same whether there is one person or six people aboard, so many groups try to round up six participants for what is known as a six-pack charter. That’s the general idea, and captains work hard to make the booking process easy to find and easy to navigate.

Once you and your crew decide you’re actually doing it, the anticipation kicks in fast. In my case, I had only half an afternoon to sort out what I needed before heading offshore the next morning. Since I was a total beginner with my first-born wingman along for the ride, I asked a few local charter fishing friends for advice on what to pack and whether L.T. was old enough to be out on a boat, away from land, for what could be four to eight hours. And by boat, I mean those hardworking yachts that head to the fishing grounds day after day, usually in the 50, 60, 70 or more feet long range, with twin inboard motors below deck. These are the kind of vessels you could point toward the Bahamas or Bermuda without worrying about running out of fuel.

When I let my brother know that I also had friends, and that I was about to go get my own share of that tuna frenzy, we started swapping photos of the boat he had been on and the one I was boarding the next morning to compare which looked bigger and flashier. But it really isn’t only about size. It is about who is at the helm and what the boat offers. Some feel like floating man-caves, while others are a little more bare-bones. Up and down the Outer Banks, there are scores and scores of boats to choose from, run by captains who know how to locate fish in indigo colored water that may be hundreds, and sometimes thousands, of feet deep.

For me, this outing felt like almost 20 years in the making. More than anything, I wanted to be ready for whatever came our way, especially in terms of how my nine-year-old would handle the waves, weather, fishing, possible boredom, seasickness, or anything else the day decided to hand us when we woke up. We’d be on the ocean for several hours, maybe all day, leaving in total pre-dawn darkness and returning under the full force of the summer sun. Food and hydration were part of that same planning list. After that, I wanted to make sure I could capture a few good photos and iPhone videos to remember the day.

I stopped by the local pharmacy and bought bottles of anti-nausea medicine, both adult and kid versions. Weather is the one part you can’t guarantee or predict, and even people with cast-iron stomachs can feel a little off, or fully sick, when the seas are rougher than expected. It’s not something that happens all the time, but if you’re new to it, you really don’t know how you or your child will respond. You can also pick up small, soft nausea relief bracelets called Sea-Bands, which come in blue or pink for kids. I bought one for L.T. to wear along with the tablets, just to add another layer of comfort. It is also important to remember any prescription medications you need. The plan is to leave and return by boat, not by U.S. Coast Guard helicopter because someone forgot insulin or heart medicine while sitting an hour and half boat ride from shore.

I packed plenty of chips, crackers and chews for snacking on the boat. I made sure to bring power cords for both my phone and my son’s tablet. If kids need a pause from the fishing action, it helps to have a tablet, book, or something else to keep them occupied. There’s a strong chance you won’t have internet service unless the boat has some kind of satellite wi-fi, so plan on being beyond calls and texts during much of the actual fishing. I filled a cooler with lots of water and a few sandwiches. By the time the trip is over, that cooler becomes the container for bringing fish home, so make sure you bring one with enough room. Mine is 24 gallons, and after the day we had, I wished I had brought something larger.

I also brought a sweatshirt or jacket for each of us. The morning ride from the docks to the continental shelf can be cold, even in the middle of summer, though that chill doesn’t stick around for long. During the hour or more ride from the marina to the Gulf Stream, you can quickly find yourself in full summer sun, so sunscreen and polarized sunglasses are smart for everyone. Bring a cooler with water, whatever drinks you like, and easy sandwiches or lunch packs. Bring your own ice, too. The Outer Banks has some 24-hour convenience stores where you can grab last-minute supplies on your way to meet the group at the arranged time, often between 4:30am and 5:30am.

With such an early start, a heavy, greasy, or rich breakfast may not be the best idea. Once you arrive at the docks before sunrise, there usually isn’t much lingering around before the boat gets moving and starts pushing through waves toward the open ocean. We went out with Captain Jamie Reibel and his brother Jeff aboard the Phideaux from Wanchese Marina. My son and I, along with Luke and his friends Meredith and Nelson, arrived separately and started loading the backed-in boat with our coolers and day bags. Rods, tackle, and bait are supplied, and life jackets are on board. If you have a life jacket that fits your child especially well, I’d suggest bringing it as a backup. I’m sure every boat has its own expectations, but before we left land behind, our group and crew went over the Phideaux rules for the day.

We eased through the no wake zone in that thick marine diesel smell before Captain Jamie advanced the throttle, pointed us into the wind, and carried us through Oregon Inlet. Looking up at the underside of the new Marc Basnight Bridge to Hatteras is not something I get to experience very often. If your trip leaves from a Hatteras Island marina, then Hatteras Inlet is, of course, the fastest route to the ocean. For our crew that morning, the ride to the area where the fish were expected to be biting took about an hour and a half.

Those first dark moments before sunrise are incredible. You’re inside the main cabin, which feels about the size of a modest den, watching the wake roll out behind the boat through the doorway. There are no forward-facing windows like a car, so you can’t easily see where you’re going from inside, but you can step out into the wind near the fishing chairs and look around toward the bow. That’s when you get the view. The sun breaks over an endless horizon, spilling light across rolling waves that seem to stretch forever. Other boats follow in the distance or split off into the darkness toward their own fishing grounds, visible only until their running lights fade into the moving water.

Eventually, the captain slows the boat and the mate begins baiting the hooks on these giant rods with ballyhoo or another bait. He gives everyone the basic rundown on what to do if a fish hits. Then he casts the lines and rigging out and sets the rods into holders on either side of the boat, waiting for something to strike from below. At that point, you settle in. You talk, snack, drink something, and take in where you are. Luke works with my wife at Kitty Hawk Kites, so we had tourism topics to cover. Nelson, his friend, is a Navy jet fighter pilot, which gave me the chance to ask all kinds of questions I’d always had about that line of work. Meredith, Luke’s other friend, was new to the whole thing like I was. Jeff, the mate, and I were at East Carolina University around the same time, so we talked about old hangouts. And I got to watch my son soak in the thrill of being somewhere entirely new. That’s the thing: the fishing itself is only part of the fun.

Then everything exploded at once. Three fish hit back-to-back, and suddenly everyone was scrambling into position for a serious workout while the mate kept the energy steady and the lines from crossing. A good fat, football-shaped tuna will absolutely go to war with your forearms. They are all muscle. Delicious muscle, but muscle all the same. Until one of two things happens, you really don’t know what is on the other end. Either it launches out of the water and dances on its tail for a few seconds, or you manage to crank it all the way within reach of the stern after 20 or 30 minutes.

That moment, when everyone not sitting in the chair can see a faint ghost of color rising out of the royal-blue deep, is when the fish finally reveals itself. The water is clear enough to see probably 20 feet down, maybe even farther. The mate gaffs the fish, brings it onto the deck for a quick round of photos and video, then adds it to the house cooler. You don’t want a 60lbs piece of muscle thrashing around in a crowd for very long, so you get the pictures fast and get ready for the next one. During that first burst of chaos, when the fish surprised everybody, I had to wake my son, who I had let nap after watching the sunrise, so he could switch into video mode. He has always been a pretty solid sidekick for photo opportunities, and he grabbed my cell phone to film my first tuna. Everyone was using one another’s phones to document the fun for social media.

After each adult had landed a tuna and the fish were safely off the gaffs and in the built-in cooler, it was L.T.’s turn in the chair. I don’t think the line had been out for more than five minutes before it began singing and peeling hard away from the boat. I stood behind his chair, leaning over him, and together we started reeling what felt like a mile of line. Then, out of nowhere, a huge mahi erupted from the water and started working across the boat wake. I’d say it fought even harder than the tuna. My arms started to burn, but it was the kind of ache you are glad to have. When Jeff lifted that fish out of the water on the gaff, it was bigger than my boy. As it turned out, L.T. had landed the biggest mahi of the Phideaux’s summer season at that point, at over 60 lbs. and 52 inches. I don’t think either of us could have felt any prouder or more fired up to be out there. By the end, everyone had caught one or two fish, and we chose to head back to the marina after keeping only what we could responsibly eat.

At some point on the ride back, you get close enough for cell service again. I called my wife and daughter with enough time for them to meet us at the docks, watch us unload the catch, and take photos with our charter group. I had seen other people have that same dockside moment countless times over the years, and I finally got to experience it with my own family. We tipped the mate, as is customary, for his hard work and for giving us such a great day. After that, the marina’s filet crew came over, loaded the fish into big rubber cans on a hand truck, and took them to the fish house. There, they removed the meat and packed our coolers with filets. We ate simple pan-seared mahi that night and tuna the next, and my kids tore into that fresh catch like little sharks. A cheap copy paper printout of my favorite photo is hanging on the fridge. It’s the same picture I texted my brother to show him that he is not the only person in the family who can catch badass fish. LOL.

I hope some part of this story lands with you and helps you imagine what is possible with your favorite people out on the farthest reaches of the Outer Banks.

Category

Family Fun

Tag

Hatteras

Author

Aaron Tuell

Public Relations Manager at the Outer Banks Visitors Bureau