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Booking while Black.

I love booking fishing charters. It gives me a chance to harvest fish and experience environments that I wouldn’t be able to on my own. Plus, the experience is super convenient as you rarely have to bring your own fishing gear, bait, or have much expertise to find the fish. You simply ride, reel, and eat!

But booking charters is also a bit of an anxious time, because my nightmare is booking with a captain who’s racist. It’s never happened, or at least no captain I’ve ever booked has acted racist in my presence, but if a racism were to happen out on the water, you’re at the mercy of the moment with nowhere to go.

“Geez, Jonathan, why would you even think that? No captain has ever been racist to your face, so what’s the big deal? Don’t stereotype people like that. It’s actually kind of racist that you do that.”

Let me offer you what has now become one of my favorite quotes of all time:

‘Suspicion is not a verdict, but memory is not prejudice.” - Tevin Davis

For all of the everyday racisms I’ve personally experienced and that people who look like me experience, I take a little bit of extra time researching the captains I book with. If the only clients you have photos with on your website are white, then I’m less enthused to book with you.

Which is why, when booking a fishing trip for my son and me in Sweden, I booked with Captain Stephen. Yes, I know, finding a captain in Scandinavia who had booked people of color as clients was a tall order, but I found one, cot dammit!

Now, proximity to diversity doesn’t mean a person supports the humanity of non-white people (Mitch McConnell and countless other racist white men and white women), but I’ll take a colorblind white who books people of color over a colorblind white who never does.

I started to worry a bit, though, when, after booking with Captain Stevie, he wanted us to travel an hour north of Stockholm to meet him for our trip. I’m not proud of it, but I could sleep the night before because images of Midsommar kept swimming in my head.

The overwhelming majority of people are not members of a murderous insuar community, but even if Captain Stevie was, luring victims on FishBooker.com is probably not the most efficient method of finding victims. I was being ridiculous, but I’m sure many people who’ve met their end at the hands of a serial killer thought the same thoughts. I had my son with me, so I was extra anxious.

Obviously, things turned out fine. Better than fine, actually.

Am I going to give up my practice of vetting captains? Absolutely not. I’ve never had a racist experience with a boat captain, but I’ve also never booked one who had only white people in their client photo album.

Captain Stevie picked us up from the bus stop outside of Norrtälje in his black BMW SUV. Okay, this is nice, I thought to myself as my brother-in-law and son climbed into the car. Stevie was friendly, enthusiastic, and eager to start fishing. All good signs of someone who would treat us well.

“Okay, so the first two rules, and I only have two rules on my boat besides having fun, are: One, you don’t have a name until you catch a fish, and Two: after the first fish, we have Fika. So when you catch the first fish, I will ask for your name, and then we can have Fika. And I am hungry, so let’s catch some fish!”

I was liking Captain Stevie more and more. He had good energy and a playful sense of humor. All the racist white folks I’ve encountered were first and foremost deeply unfunny.

The captain then gave us instructions on catching the fish we were after, the Nordic Pike. Our arms got a workout, because catching pike is all about casting and reeling…a lot. Pike are ambush predators, so they need moving prey to home in on. They also have hundreds of teeth in their mouths, so fishing with plastic lures rather than live bait is a must.

The thing I didn’t know about catching pike is that hooking them requires a special motion of the rod once you feel a bite. Watch any fishing show, and you’ll see anglers setting their hooks with a dramatic upward pull to set the hook in the fish's mouth. I grew up setting hooks this way, so the technique is deeply ingrained in my muscle memory. Feel a tug, set the hook by pulling up.

Not for pike!

Setting the hook when a pike bites requires a quick sideways jerk of the rod, almost like a flick of the wrist, but with more oomph. On the fourth or fifth cast, I learned that my practiced technique of hook setting would not get the job done.

Holy sh*t, this is tough! I thought as I watched the silhouette of the pike that bit my lure swim back into the depths of the sea grass. My brother-in-law and I missed three more fish before I finally caught this monster:

“Good job! Now, what is your name?”

“Jonathan!”

“Yes! Now we can have Fika!”

We actually caught a few pike before having fika, but my son was still struggling to even hook a fish. The technique is advanced, and even though Oscar is a very skilled fisherman for his age, I started to worry that he would not catch any fish that day.

“Okay, boys, one last cast and then we need to head back.”

Oscar still hadn’t caught any of the ten pike we landed, though he accounted for at least one of the eleven that we hooked, but escaped our net. I was really worried at this point because we were only on this fishing trip. After all, Oscar really wanted to go fishing in Sweden.

I had had a great time otherwise, but I had failed as a father. Not because Oscar hadn’t caught a fish, but because, as I was just realizing, I could have let him bring in any of the five previous fish I had landed. Why in the hell did I not do that?!

I threw my lure one last time, hoping for anything to bite so that I could give my son the experience he had been wanting.

“Oh! Got one! Here Oscar! Come bring this one in.”

I couldn’t believe it! I hooked a fish on my last cast. It didn’t feel that big, but that was okay. My son was going to catch a fish in Sweden, however small, and that was going to be just fine.

Good hell, was I wrong.

“Take your time, Oscar. Reel steady.” Captain Stevie, the ever-patient instructor, said as he guided Oscar.

Man, that rod is bending a lot. This fish might be bigger than I thought.

Then, whatever was on the line took off!

“Hold on, Oscar! Don’t real now, just let him run.”

Okay, this fish is definitely bigger than I thought. None of the ones I caught did this.

The fish would run three more times before we saw its silhouette.

“Ooooohh! It’s a big one! The biggest one of the day, for sure. Oh, it’s big! Hold on, Oscar! You’re doing great! Hold on!”

I don’t friggin believe it! This couldn’t have turned out any better! Oscar is doing an amazing job with this giant fish. I’m so proud of him! I’m not a failure as a father!

“That’s not a fish, actually. In Sweden, we call this a crocodile.”

We didn’t eat any of the fish we caught. We threw them all back, which, if you’re familiar with my content, you know I’m not a big fan of fishing for sport. But, I also didn’t want to clean fish and then ride with them on public transportation for an hour and then cook them for my in-laws, who are not big fish eaters.

Plus, Captain Stevie is strictly a sport fisherman, and since, in the hullabaloo of catching that monster, Oscar dropped one of the captain’s $450 rods in the water to grab mine, I didn’t want to antagonize our generous captain any further.

Regardless, I love how the pursuit of wild relatives opens up so many points of connection between strangers and solidifies bonds between family. Giles, my brother-in-law, had never been charter fishing before. He had always wanted to go, but had never booked a trip, in large part because he wanted someone who would help him through the process.

I learned a lot about Sweden’s wild food culture from Captain Stevie and much more about his experiences fishing all over the world. He talked about other topics, from the Swedish education system to his love of American Football and the Buffalo Bills.

The rest of our family trip to Sweden was incredible. We saught, ate, and experienced wonderful things. I am especially glad that Oscar insisted we go fishing, not only because we caught fish, but because he now has a set of specific memories around wild food that can help build relationships with people yet unknown that he otherwise wouldn’t be able to relate to.

The Wild Kitchen is about community, wherever you can find it, and I am continually astonished by how quickly and firmly one makes community in the pursuit of wild food.

Speaking of finding community through fishing, consider taking this quiz to determine what kind of fishing experience might be right for you. I put this together as part of an upcoming opportunity to go fishing with me next spring and summer. If you’re curious about charter fishing, but need some help getting over the hump, you can use the results of this study to book an experience with me, and/or directly with boat captains in your local area.

I also have a hunting quiz that serves the same purpose for those interested in learning to hunt.

Grandfather-Father-Son Fishing Adventure!

Here’s a video of my first charter boat fishing experience with my son and father. We fished for salmon out of Traverse Bay, MI, and did work!