Mackerel are some of my family's favorite table fare, and my mission was to bring home a few to eat. They travel in schools of thousands, but they are always moving; chasing schools of anchovies up and down Korea’s East Coast. Being able to cast a long way greatly increases your chances of success. I digress. I needed the right tool for the job, and that came in the form of an inshore casting setup- a longer than average spinning rod (eight and a half feet), an extra high gear spinning reel (designed to cast braided line; maybe that is all spinning reels?), and some 30 g metal jigs. These are the tools of the trade for inshore fishing in Korea.
I found a great little fishing store in the Mokho area of Donghae called Seoul Fishing. Seoul Fishing is run by a husband and wife who finish each other’s sentences. We were able to communicate in a mix of English and Korean. The store owners (I should have gotten their names) working in unison, gathered up all the necessary items. I had one request- I wanted a rod manufactured in Korea, and they suggested the NS Darkhorse II (the perfect rod of a novice inshore angler). They paired that with a Diawa Legalis 3000 reel. I was pleased as punch. The gentleman owner finished the transaction by teaching me the fg knot (the holy grail of braid to mono connections). I was ready.
I knew where I wanted to fish, as I have frequented the area many times and have put in countless hours of research and map study. I was headed to a relatively small (but not overlooked) jetty close to the most popular mackerel spot in Gangneung, Aninhang. I have had success there before, and knew I had to start early to increase my odds. I was the second one out and found a nice place to cast from. It should be noted that to get to the jetty or fishing from the seawall (wave break) you have to scramble on massive concrete dolos (a tetrapod concrete structure that is piled to create an ocean barrier). It is not safe. Don’t go out there with flip flops. Specialized footwear is definitely required. I wore my viabram sole wading boots with neoprene socks (my feet did get a little toasty, but my footing was secure). An older gentleman arrived. There were three people on the jetty at this point, but he went around and greeted everyone. He asked me where I was from and told me a little about his life. He was proud to be retired (currently 70 years old) and gets to fish five days a week. I asked him his name and he didn’t miss a beat, “they call me The Professional, but you can call me Mr. Park”. Great, I just met the self proclaimed mackerel assassin. Mr. Park was incredibly fit; arriving with a framed backpack carrying all his equipment, and nimbly hopping from dolo to dolo sporting the aforementioned pack. He settled in, and all the newcomers stopped by his area to pay their respects.
My life in Korea is wonderful. I married an intelligent, loving, and overall wonderful woman. I have built a meaningful business that affords me the opportunity to fish more than the average person (not as often as the professional). I am the happiest I have ever been. However, I have not created many friendships. That’s not to say I haven’t been shown kindness during my stay in Korea. I certainly have, but I keep my work relationships strictly professional, and the people I do meet, usually through fishing, are older. Younger friends are expected to defer to their older peers. I have struggled with this in the past. I tend to like to drive myself places and don’t enjoy eating late dinners. That makes it hard to socialize, so I keep to myself. What impressed me the most about The Professional was not his ability to catch 30 fish, it was the community he brought with him. Other anglers began to alert each other when the school was approaching. They began sharing lures and tactics. Everyone wanted everyone else to catch fish, because that is what The Professional wanted. I saw someone give up their premium spot to someone who hadn’t had much luck. With every mackerel I brought in- Mr. Park smiled. I said goodbye as I left. He told me to come find him if I was ever around again and that he would be here in his spot. No exchange of information. No expectations. Just the shared joy that fishing brings, and the internal tickle of watching someone else do the same. Keep killing them with kindness.