Beats Workin’: A Legend Is Born
The year was 1989- I was a wide-eyed 9-year-old, fueled by equal parts curiosity and saltwater. My family's prized possession was my father Jeff's Bertram sportfish named Beats Workin’—it was what brought me to the Ocean. Just a newborn boat, her hull had been pressed and formed in Miami. After her final assembly, she power up the East Coast with her nearly 1500 horsepower Twin 8V Detroit Diesel engines, to her home slip in Falmouth Harbor, Cape Cod.
Summer- Late July: I woke early, smiling at the smell of salt water, and wiped the morning dew off Beats Workin' gleaming white fiberglass and polished chrome. Captain Jeff entered waypoints into the ship's loran, preparing to leave port.
McDougall's Marina: Nestled in the heart of Falmouth Harbor, MA it was the base of operations. It was a bustling hub that smelled of diesel fuel and salt air. I helped cast off the bow, spring, and stern lines and we pulled away from the dock. The saltwater livewell began to fill- we headed toward the harbor's mouth.
Powering past the Jetty: At the harbor's entrance, Jeff pushed the twin sticks of the throttle forward. With smiling faces, saltwater sprayed- Beat's Workin's bow lifted and we gained speed. Her nose came down and her hull raised out of the water reaching plane. The whitewater of her wake roared- Jeff let me take the helm and together we watched the horizon's edge.
Trolling for Bluefish:
The sea welcomed us—Vineyard Sound, a vast canvas of rolling waves. Jeff and I were on a mission: bluefish. These voracious fighters patrolled the waters, their silver scales flashing defiance. I hooked silver lures to our rods, let the lines out and waited with anticipation. Beats Workin' slow trolled through the water as the engines hummed at 800 RPMs. Our rods stood at attention, lines trailing behind like hopeful whispers. And then it happened! A Hit! I'll never forget that first sound of my rod's reel running as the line went out. I was hooked—with a bluefish and memory.
The Bounty and the Sunset
Back at the dock: We shutdown the engines, connected Beats Workin' to shore power and switched off the generator. Jeff photographed our trophies and I watched as my father cleaned the catches, readying our dinner for that night.
As the sun went down, I set the galley table while Jeff cooked the bluefish, sizzling in a buttery pan. We feasted that night- laughing and grateful for our adventure and triumph. Beats Workin’ rocked gently in her slip as her engines cooled.
The stars emerged, and in that twilight, I felt I was part of something timeless.
The Economic Crisis of the early 90's: Sadly, it impacted my father, Jeff, dramatically. He was forced to let our Beats Workin' go to another who could afford to fuel and maintain the legendary machine. How does the saying go? You can take the man out of the sea, but you can't take the sea out of the man? I was given a great gift: the love of boats and fishing.
Late 90s: I ended up being able to spend my teenage years at various marinas around Buzzards Bay, working on the boats I loved. Fueling, cleaning, waxing, pumping waste tanks, changing oil, and fuel filters. Boats take a lot of attention and care; but from my perspective, doing what you love, well, it still Beats Workin'.
Red sky at night: Dear reader, may the wind always be at your back, and may your own memories of water, waves, and fishing bring you a smile and the joy it always brought me.
Yours in salt and stories,
Jonathan Coffman, Deckhand, Beats Workin’