The Jaws of Life

Fishing-- some find it to be a very relaxing and peaceful experience. I agree with this
assertion, unless of course you are locked in a battle to the death with a prehistoric man-eater.
Yes, I have been locked in such a battle before. I actually found the experience to be
quite liberating and enjoyable. Fishing for sharks, in particular Mako Sharks, is an activity that I
love, and is a hobby that I share with my father.
I remember the day of the ferocious battle like it was 2 summers ago, mainly because it
was only 2 summers ago. I had always wanted to go shark fishing with my father and his friends.
That summer I finally got my chance. That summer I finally made the age requirement that my
dad, his best friend (who is like an uncle to me, and is also my godfather) and the other guys who
fish with my dad had set in order to have a safe trip. Shark fishing can be just as dangerous as it
sounds. Sharks do not go down without a fight, they have been known to pull men in the water to
never be seen again, their skin is like sandpaper- it will cut you if you come in contact with it,
their teeth will pierce through any part of your body even easier than you can imagine, and their
teeth are razor blades. In short, there is a reason that sharks have survived since prehistoric times
Mako Sharks are capable of swimming up to 60 miles per hour, they have adapted to live and eat
in any type of ocean around the world, and are known for their violent attacks on their prey
(Sharks-World). For all these reasons and more, the older guys do not let the kids out on a
sharking trip until we have proved ourselves on shorter and safer trips.
But, one summer I was old enough and was able to accompany the guys on the first trip
of the year. This trip would be a major learning experience for me, not only was it my first time
sharking, but we were fishing on my familys boat. This meant that I had to captain the whole
trip because my dad wanted to show me the ropes of sharking.

So, the day finally came to embark on my fishing trip. My dad woke me up at 2:30 AM
and we got ourselves ready for the days trip. I was in charge of grabbing the snacks, lunch, soda,
other beverages, bait, amongst several other items while my dad packed the ditch bag (a bag
that is completely water proof and will float. This bag is the representation of how a hobby can
end in death. I remember seeing my dad pack this bag when I was little, and him explaining what
it was for and why it was important. Now, it might be so that my survival depends on this very
same bag. It is something that you never hope you have to use because its function is to store
anything that you might need while floating around in the ocean while your boat sinks in the
distance). We finally finished packing and making coffee and managed to sneak out of the house
without waking up my mom.
We arrived at our boat early and started to stow items and load on fishing gear. The boat
was a 30 ft. Grady- White center console, ironically painted blue, reflecting the sense of humor
that my dad has. A few minutes later my godfather Skip (who basically thinks he is Quint from
the movie Jaws) and a few other guys showed up, and we left the dock, and I pointed the bow in
the direction of the open ocean- or where my GPS said the ocean was because it was still dark
enough where I couldnt see the hand in front of my face. But we pressed on. The boat was
loaded down with coolers, ice, reels and rods, knives, rope, and guys hoping that this wasnt a
wasted trip.
After an hour cruise through the Great South Bay, which was surprisingly tranquil at this
early hour, I made it to the inlet as the sun was starting to rise over the blue horizon. I made my
way through the breaking waves and avoided the shallow spots on the way out, as I have done
many times before. Safely through the inlet that the United States Coast Guard claimed was too
dangerous to use, Skip inputted the latitude and longitude on the GPS where we would be

fishing as the other guys were sleeping where they could and catching up on some of the
precious sleep that they had left behind on shore.
Whoosh- all of a sudden whales started breaching right in front of the boat. It was
perhaps one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. Three or four gigantic, majestic and
mysterious humpback whales were slowly surfacing, blasting out what looked like gallons of
water in the form of mist from their blowholes; then with a quick flick of their iconic tales, they
were gone for minuets at a time, until they once again their black bodies would break the
monotony of the blue horizon, and repeat the process again. Seeing whales 20 feet away
breaching as the sun was rising was just enough to make a perfect day- so I thought. As the
whales were disappearing, a school of dolphins started to have their daily fun. In a school of
what seemed like 40 to 50, they were keeping pace with the boat perfectly. Their bodies
appeared a dark brown as they would stay about 10 feet below the surface of the ocean. But
when they wanted to put a show on, they would point their rounded noses to the heavens, flick
their tails a few times and before you knew it, their head was eye level with you, or they were
preforming areal tricks that looked like they belonged to a performance at Sea World. This was
the best sunrise I have ever experienced.
We sat around for an hour and waited for the sharks to get hungry and grab a bite of food.
We knew that within moments a shark would swim up and comp down on the succulent strips of
raw squid we had dangling from the hooks. When that happened the Penn International Rods we
used would start releasing line so fast it sounds like a scream. The poles can bend in a circle, and
never break. There is a reason that they cost around $100.
All of a sudden we heard the best sound possible (when shark fishing), the soft and quiet
click that the reels on the poles make when a shark is starting to play with the bait. When this

sound goes off the boat looks like a fire alarm was sounded. Everyone has a job to do, my dad
put on gloves, Skip grabbed the gaffle- a stick with a spear like tip that is used to help move the
shark onto the boat- and I grabbed the harness. It is nearly impossible to hold on to a pole by
yourself when there is a full grown and angry shark on the other end of the line. Stepping in to
the harness as the shark was fleeing for his life, I put the plastic frame of the harness around my
waste, inserted the butt of the rod into the holder on the frown of the plastic frame, and finally I
grabbed the 2 metal hooks that were attached to the harness. I attached these hooks to the reel on
the rod, one each side of the reel. Now it would be impossible for the shark to rip the pole out of
my hands. I would be in the water before the pole left my hands.
As we got ourselves ready for what could be an hour long fight, the soft and slow click
turned into a loud and vicious screaming as the shark ate the bait and was now swimming away
and pulling the fishing line from the pole with it. I checked to see if everyone was ready, grabbed
the reel and gave it a very strong and forceful yank backwards in order to set the hook in the
sharks mouth.
This shark was a fighter. Resisting capture, the beast tried his greatest to pull away. He
struggled so much that I was robbed of the upper hand in the fight and started to be pulled
towards the side of the boat and towards the bottom of the ocean. Remembering what I was
taught, I threw my body towards the bottom of the boat and left my feet for my ass. My flop
stopped my slide towards the side of the boat and I was able to regain my footing. I do not
remember much of what was said during the fight. It remained quite most of the fight, we were
just trying to make sure everything was under control and that no one was hurt. However, I do
remember Skip yelling at me dont lose him dont lose that sharkdont lose him. Skip
would not stop yelling that, it was not very helpful at the time. It was my first time reeling in a

shark, if I lost it (meaning the line snapped, or the hook became dislodged from the sharks
mouth), I thought it would be acceptable. But Skip did not agree.
45 minutes later I got the first look at my opponent, a very big and beautiful Blue Shark.
I proceeded to reel in the beauty until he was close enough to the boat. At this point I had to run
backwards to the other side of the deck to pull the shark a little closer and get out of the way for
the next fight. My dad, with the gloves, grabbed the line in his hands and carefully wrapped it
around his hand in a way that would allow him to free his hands of the line if the shark bolted.
As my dad tried to steady the Shark, Skip walked up with the gaffle and took aim and thrust the
point into the back of the shark right behind the dorsal fin. Upon the entry of the thick metal tip
into the sharks back, the shark began to thrust harder than he ever had. He tried to roll over on
his sides, back, swim away, at one point he even tried to jump out of the water. All of his violent
movements were designed to break free of the gaffle. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for
us, he was unable to liberate himself.
To ensure the shark wasnt going anywhere we took a line of rope and make a loop at one
end. After many attempts we managed to get the loop around the thrashing powerful tail and we
cinched it tight around the tail fins and tied the line off to a cleat.
After allowing the shark to calm down, we pull the beast onto the boat, a task that sounds
much simpler than it actually is. Sharks are very heavy, even with multiple guys to move the
body. If you have ever tried to hold something that was wet and found it hard to get a grip on it,
you have an idea of how it is moving a shark. Their skin is not only wet, but it is a little slimy.
Whenever you think you have a grip on the shark, your hands slide away. When the shark was
aboard we adjusted the tail rope so it could not go back to the water, or chase us around the deck.
It turns out that this shark, my very first shark I ever caught, was over 8-feet and weight close to

350 lbs. When the shark was fastened on the deck, and it was dead we filleted the shark and
saved every piece of meat we could. The organs of the shark as well as the fins, and tails were
thrown overboard as a snack to any other hungry fish in the sea. We dont like to be wasteful. It
is our belief that if you kill a shark you need to eat everything you took or it was a pointless kill
and didnt need to be done.

Victoriously I cut the jaws out of the

shark, and disposed of the head back into the ocean. When I got home I mounted the jaws on to
a plaque and now they are triumphantly hanging on my wall above my bed.
This whole experience was more to me than just fishing. When I look at the jaws I
remember the stories that were said, and the fight that was ensued, but more so than that I
remember the time spent with my dad and his friends. I was able to see my dad in a setting that I
had never seen before- a side that he would not show in front of my mom and sisters. When we
were fishing together, he told me stories that I had never heard before. He told me of all the
things he did when he was my age, and all of his old friends. This fishing trip is the first time my
dad treated me like one of his friends. On this trip he wasnt acting as my dad, but as my friend.
We shared stories and had a great time together fishing.
I remember every detail of those shark jaws. They are white, with some brown on the
sides of the jaws where the top and bottom jaws meet. In some areas there are spots where they
were worn so thin that the jaws are nearly see- through. I have no idea as to why the jaws were
so thin at some points, perhaps the jaws were broken at one point and they were starting to heal
when he died. There are a few teeth missing in the bottom left of the teeth. The plaque that they
are mounted on is shaped like rhombus, with smooth
corners and stained a dark grey-ish color. The wood
looks like it too has survived years in the harsh

Figure 1: The jaws from the shark that I fought to

the death with

ocean. I remember the 4 wires that come from the bottom of the board, wrap around the jaws and
then duck back under the board. Even now that I am a part from them I still remember these
details. These jaws are a symbolic representation of the day I learned that I could be considered a
man by my dad and his friends. The day that I proved man, boat and technology could triumph
over beast and the day that my relationship with my dad changed from father- son to one more as
friends and fishing pals. I love the new relationship I have with my dad. He is still a great dad,
but now he is a friend. I can go to him with a problem and not a dad answer. When I get advice
from him now, it seems like something that a friend would tell me. Often times this is the advice
that I prefer to hear. When I was asked to accompany my dad and Skip on this trip, I never would
have guessed that I would so much out of it. Now I understand why they go fishing so often.

References:

Information on the Mako Shark,

http://www.sharks-world.com/mako_shark/