The 5th traditional non-competitive meet of the New England Freedivelist members took place at Sachuest Point (http://newportvisions.com/home/sachuest1.html) in Middleton, Rhode Island on September 2nd, 2000. Since Jose Fernandez's story of that weekend is perfectly worded, I will let his to be the authoritative text on this and let my comments to be seen down below in the "Other Stories" section!...

The Meet

Responding to a deeply hidden call they came to Rhode Island. From foreign and domestic shores to bend their knees before Ata "the list manager"!. Throughout history the stories abound of individuals who shunned by society willingly risked all to wrest a bounty from the sea and be of obeyance to none. They paid a high price to escape the drudgery and servitude of the clock. Oh, yes, they also liked to eat fish. Whatever the reason, over twenty of these absorbing personalities and their devoted ones came to Sachuest Point, Rhode Island in response to Ata's post and the promise of a raffle. Be that as it may, Saturday morning found them exposing themselves to the innocents that frequent the state park in search of birds and exercise. There was Dave, Tom J. again, Ralph, Rene (of course), Roger (Picasso man himself but without his mother's good food), Bruce and Frank and their speedos, Catfish (not Hunter) with wooden contraptions that he swears can kill fish (several suggested adding strings and plucking it), Tino with enough enthusiasm to make us all smile (but sans family), Patrick and Ingo, Herman and a host of others including Jose L. Fernandez, Ata Bilgili, Olivier Resca, Mike Jette Ralph Cohn, Atakan Yalcin and Soner Tunay.

Missing at the time of the raffle were Lisa and I, Jose who were engaged in heroic efforts raising our tent to beat the rain. Despite our obvious absence, Ata capitulated to the pressure of the masses and proceeded with the raffle failing to add tickets for me and Lisa! Well, the questionable character of the raffle became even more apparent when one of the participants drew his own ticket! Bruce Conner, won an Omer double bladder buoy (drawing his name), Frank Oterelo won a Picasso snorkel, David Biron won Picasso socks, Herman Broodryk won Picasso fins. May them serve them well!... A serious word of appreciation is a must. OMER and Picasso have been key participants of our events and for years have given their support. For that, we thank you Roger, Mark and Eddie you have demonstrated a commitment to our sport.

The Saga

At 4:00 am the sound of the alarm was jarring. Soon, however, the truck was loaded with me and Lisa on our way to Rhode Island with a leaking rear main seal. The pleasant ride ended at 10:00 am. By then we knew we would not make the meeting time for the raffle, but rested assured that Ata would enter our names in the pool. So, instead of driving straight to Sachuest we diverted to the Melville Campground to erect our tent and leave behind enough gear so that I could reach the diving stuff in the back of the truck. Our site was grand, at the bottom of a slope in a hollow next to the creek. As a precaution against the impending rain, I closed two of the windows leaving them half open and placed all our baggage and sleeping gear on the tent floor. We figured that there would be a get together at Aidan's after the dive and wanted to have all the gear handy.

As we finally drove the lane into Sachuest, we spied Ata and Tom creeping among the rocks like drugged sandpipers. Seeing Ata, I brought up the fact that he had left me out of the raffle. Mumbling something about lawyers, he walked away as I demanded a Firestone-like recall of all raffle tickets. Being ignored, I considered unloading my kayak and joining the fleet, leaving for later the matter of the fixed raffle. However, noticing that Ata and Tom where blocking the path to the sea, I decided against launching the kayak. I had previously enjoyed watching their foreplay when launching their tandem boat. While I waited, I noticed that Tom J. carried his boat swiftly into the water by himself while those two continued their rigging operations. It made a Space Shuttle launch child's play by comparison. You would think that they were setting out longlining after swordfish. Instead I decided to walk to the west rocks off the point and after my yoga, proceeded into the water. The viz was nice, the fish were there! I was welcomed by a school of jacks about 10 inches to a foot long. Last year I shot and tried to eat one of these fish. Their oily flesh repelled even me, and I consider mackerel and bluefish two of my favorite dishes! Leaving them for Rene, I searched for other prey. Soon I was swimming with a school of pilot fish that kept appearing at inopportune moments giving quite a start. Finally, around the point I found the right depth for large Tog. Shot one, and then my equipment problems started. I am not used to my new gun and I kept shooting high. By turning the gun sideways, I was able to hit a couple of fish. Then, my shaft went right through a large tog and disappeared! The line had come undone. After searching for the shaft I was able to jury rig the line while sitting on the rocks. The range was now diminished to three feet of line, but, it worked. All in all a typical day for this year's diving. I left the water having seen no stripers but with two large togs. I could not wait to hit Aidan's.

The meet

The return to the parking lot brought us all together. A time to brag and show our pieces, whether 56, 75 or 90 size. The fish lay on the ground and we re-enjoyed the pleasure of their catch in our stories and of undressing in a public place. The catch? Well the stripers were not predominant, but some were caught. It was interesting to note the mix of black sea bass, tog, blues, flounders, trigger and bonito. Some examples were: Herman Broodryk who shot three nice Togs, the biggest was 22 inches; Tino with 2 summer flounder (15 inches) and a bluefish (17 inches); Rene with two large flukes and a 10 pound tog before the thunder and hail chased his boat out of the water; Patrick with a 30 inch bass; Ralph with tog; and Jose with tog. Many other fish were caught and we thank the sea gods for the rain that fell on us as we walked back to our cars. Now, changed into civilian clothes we could pass for normal and sneak into Aidan's for libations.

Aidan's was full and so were we. We upset their tables and ate and drank to drown a band. As the Guiness flowed, the fish lost or caught grew bigger. Our adventures became riskier and our diving skills shined in the after glow of alcohol. Thanks to Miriam, Suzanne, Lisa and Marisa who added beauty and class to the debauchery. To be remembered were Roger and Jose's stories of the war fronts. Heroes no doubt! Rene's description of riding a 30 mile per hour cruiser in hail with masks on was worth the wait. Of course, the discussion at times focused on the photon Uzzi that Catfish had built. With enough Guiness we even survived Ata and Picasso man's glorification of their minnow killings in the Med. Luckily, Jose's instructional tidbits and wit saved the day. Since Frank and Tino and Herman had to miss the dinner, we spoke of them until all had exorcized our devils. Mike's tales of the Race and his pin-up photos made us all want to get sun tans.(Luckily for some of us we were born with coloration.) Patrick and Bruce and Dave lingered with us as the night bore on. That reminds me that Tom was there expounding on the need to see things to their bitter end.

As the night progressed, Ata extended an invitation to fish his home waters of New Hampshire. Assuring him that we would consider it, Lisa and I watched him go. Immediately Rene asked what we were doing next morning, it seems he and Mike J. were going to dive to the bottom of the sea in sixty knot currents to kill hundred pound bass somewhere in New York. I tried to explain that in the City the spelling is strippers, not stripers, but, alas, I was ignored. Ignored that is until I said that I was considering a trip to New Hampshire. At that, Rene, in that conciliatory manner of his said "What, there are no fish in N.H.!" Now, I have had the extreme privilege of knowing Rene for several years. I have learned never to discount his input when it comes to fish. Accordingly, after his exclamation I turned to Lisa and said we would leave for New Hampshire by 9:00 am next morning. After much discussion where we all tried to show how little we really know of commercial fishing, it was time to return to the campsite with lovely Lisa for a well deserved rest.

The Saga

At the site, after meandering in the dark avoiding kids and pets in the rain, we reached the lane leading to our site only to find it blocked by a car. Looking around the obstruction, I spied a large commercial van on our parking spot. I calmly walked to the two confused individuals who explained something about mud and poor tires. Realizing that these poor souls needed some direction I told them that I could care less about their problems and to get their vehicles out of my way. My direct approach was followed by helping them push their truck out of our way. Finally, our foresight, having set the tent before going to the dive area would payoff in a warm dry shelter in the woods. Tiredly we stumbled into the tent. As our feet splashed in the water that lay inside the tend, we knew all was not right. Lisa entered first. Her pale face in the flashlight beam told a tale of woe. It seem that our bed clothes were wet, our sleeping bags were soaked, our cloth suit case and pillow case were drenched and water sat on the floor and sides of the tent. Immediately it was easy to second guess the call to place the tent in a hollow next to the river without a trench and leave the windows open in the face of forecasted thunderstorms. Luckily I remembered from my Boy Scout days, before the boycott, that wet acrylic and wet down were still very good at preserving body heat and explained this to Lisa. It is fascinating how stress can really diminish a persons ability to assimilate scientific data. Lisa's response illustrated that point fabulously. After re-stating that she was exhausted, she made it clear that she could wait to be imparted my knowledge of down etc... Finally, the beer, the lack of sleep and the despair won and we collapsed on a wet air mattress, covered by a wet sleeping bag as rain gently fell making musical gurgling sounds reminiscent of a Japanese river garden. Dawn came, after my five trips to dispose of the beer and water I had drunk (the running water by our heads did not help) However, the rain still fell and the ground that had merely been muddy last night, now flowed under our feet. I waited until Lisa went to stand at the line for the women's bathroom (one shower for over a hundred sites). I then decided to take steps to make things better, so single handed I loaded all the soaked gear pulled down and folded and tied the tent and waited for her return. Soon after Lisa returned. With a bemused expression on her face she noted that try as she may, she could not find her glasses, (the last remembered placing was on the floor of the tent). I trembled with anticipation for what was to follow. Just before I untied the tent, the glasses were found. Enough! No more wetness, we would go to New Hampshire.

Sunday

Sunday we all dispersed as a school of stripers before my gun. Some went lobstering, some did their lawns, but some challenged the angry seas (Ok, so I am melodramatic, big deal). Rene, Roger, Dave and Marissa sailed forth into the fog in search of Block Island, a rather big piece of land I say. They spent four hour in 200 ft fog trying to find the Island. Once there they found plenty of bonitos and triggers and according to Rene "we all shot 10-15 each in one hour". To get back in the fog these would be sailors had to call Charlie's store for GPS coordinates. I understand he only gave them to get back his hired hand. Tino sought the calmer sport and better taste of lobster. He came up with five one almost too big at three and a half pounds! Me, I went to New Hampshire and dove with Ata off Rye. The water was colder by ten degrees, but there were pollock, and giant bergalls and we each got a bass. Ata shot a 42 inch monster fifteen feet from shore and held it over his head as he laughed. He had sent me after a school of breaking bluefish a quarter mile offshore that swam further away as I approached. Tired but not defeated I shot one too. Size? Well.... Yet, despite his dastardly deed, Emine's hospitality made up for everything, the rain, the cold and the not-caught fish. I cannot wait till next time!!!!

Jose L. Fernandez
Sept 7., 2000

Conditions:

Thunderstorms, rain, light winds, some swells, some fog, but good visibility and lots of fish.

Participants (in alphabetical order):

Ata Bilgili
David Biron
Ingo Bitsch
Herman Broodryk and Iwan Broodryk
Tom Campbell
Ralph Cohn
Bruce Conner
Jose L. Fernandez
Tom Jerussi
Mike Jette
Patrick Lacchia
Frank Oterelo
Rene Potvin
Constantino Rago
Olivier Resca
Matt (Catfish) Richards
Joe Toro
Soner Tunay
Atakan Yalcin
Roger Yazbeck

Fish Taken:

- Triggers, tautogs, blues, black sea bass, stripers, scups and flatfish.

Raffle Winners:

- Herman Broodryk: Picasso Black Line fins.
- Iwan Broodryk: Picasso Black Line mask.
- Bruce Conner: OMER double bladder torpedo buoy (He drew his own name).
- Frank Oterelo: Picasso snorkel.
- David Biron: Picasso socks.
- ?: 60 foot OMER float line

Other Stories from the Meet:

- From Ata Bilgili
- From Herman Broodryk
- From David Biron
- From Frank Oterelo

Tom Campbell, Iwan Broodryk, Herman Broodryk, Roger Yazbeck and Mike Jette (jpeg, 78.5k).
 

Matt "Catfish" Richards, Roger Yazbeck, Herman Broodryk and Marissa (jpeg, 66.5k).
 

Frank Oterelo, Rene Potvin (background), Tom Campbell, David Biron and Mike Jette (jpeg, 78.7k).
 

Marissa, David Biron, Roger Yazbeck, Rene Potvin, Tom Campbell and Mike Jette (jpeg, 71.4k).
 

Tom Campbell, Marissa, David Biron, Rene Potvin and Roger Yazbeck (jpeg, 68.2k).
 

Constantion Rago with his blue camo wetsuit, perfectly adapted for RI waters! (jpeg, 73.2k).
 

Ralph Cohn getting ready. (jpeg, 73.2k).
 

Bruce Conner and his wife. (jpeg, 71.6k).
 

Bruce Conner in the infamous "purple speedo"!... Beat this, Bill McIntyre!. (jpeg, 48.1k).
 

Matt "Catfish" Richards with his homemade bazookas. (jpeg, 105.6k).
 

Frank Oterelo by the infamous "Oterelo Van"!... Coming to a dive spot near you! (jpeg, 82.2k).
 

Ata Bilgili and his 2nd day New Hampshire striper catch! (jpeg, 99.8k).
 
 
 

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