The owner of the “Fresh One” Bob Elliott put together a seabass trip and as usual he worked hard to get some good friends and hot sticks on the boat. When he called me and said “hey Wes from the “Options” is a confirmed go”, I was thrilled to say the least. Where we were going is a place I am familiar with, but had not been in many years. I knew Captain Wes would be our go-to guy if we needed to fine tune our game plan upon arrival.
As it turns out there was no fine tuning necessary, as Wes got the seabass bite started not long after we put the anchor down. He sets the fish up and looks over his shoulder, “hundred to hundred” is all he said. Meaning he’d hooked the first seabass of what turned into limits for 6 guys on 100# Spectra tied to 100# fluorocarbon. A testament to how good Wes is.
Almost done catching our 18 seabass Wes makes it known that “this coffee works pretty good, I have to take a shit.” There is no head on the “Fresh One”, but a fairly fancy bucket with a toilet seat lid in the forward compartment. As Wes came out of the bunk room with a roll of toilet paper I mentioned the facilities to him, to which he replied “nah, I’ll just shit over the side.” We’d all loosened up with some great jokes all morning, but this was just too much. Even Bob who is serious most of the time could not hold back the laughter. It gets better.
Not only did Wes remove the chain between the side rails and pull his pants down to “drop some road apples over the side” fearlessly with a sportboat not far away, but then began some hysterical commentary on how his morning movement was going. With pushing grunts and relief sounds, he had us all in stitches. About mid way (I can only assume Wes was half done shitting) Walt was at the bow on the same side as Wes and his rod goes off. Hysterical. As we are all trying really hard not to watch a guy take a crap as he is making all these funny noises, Walt now has a seabass on and desperately needs to start following his fish towards the stern.
Walt is in his 70’s, and an extremely nice man. Humble, quiet and a very good angler. He smiles at our jokes but keeps it classy by not chiming in. I scream (while laughing) “Walt! Follow your fish! Coming down, coming down!” Wes is cracking up (literally and figuratively) and the rest of us are trying not to fall down laughing with all the blood and carnage on the deck. Walt moves towards the stern, trying REALLY hard not to look at Wes and his bare ass. About then Wes announces “WAIT WALT, I got one coming out!” That’s it, now Bob is on his knees and Joe Davis is wondering if he will be able to catch his breath. Larry Moore has the composure to grab his phone and snap a few photos, but I have no idea how, he was losing it so bad.
At this point Walt really needs to get past Wes as his fish is already at the stern. Wes lets Walt by but not before he says “wait, let me pinch it off” and walks with his pants down (still bent over), giving Walt barely enough room to pass by. Walt mentioned something about not wanting to pass that close to a bare mans ass mid crap, but reluctantly goes by anyways. I really wish I had video. Not of Wes taking a crap, but of the rest of us laughing so hard. Watching Bob Elliott laugh that hard was the best part of the whole trip for me.
Wes takes back his spot at the rail and finishes his business, leaving a trail of muddy toilet paper for us to watch out for with our lines. Walt gets his seabass, and we all go back to fishing. On the way home I asked Wes if he would mind if I wrote this and he laughed. “Go ahead!” Very funny man.
Captain Wes Flesch being a regular guy, had to take another shit on the way home. This time I was not shy about grabbing my camera, and Wes was not shy about doing more play-by play on how things were going. I even got shots of “Fresh One” owner Bob Elliott laughing his face off. All good stuff. If you ever get a chance to fish on the “Options” with Captain Wes, be sure to ask him about being a regular guy. Get him telling jokes, he’s about the most entertaining guy I have fished with in a long time.