Imagine leaving behind decades of hard work, not for a life of leisure on land, but for the unpredictable embrace of the open sea. That's exactly what these Filipino-Americans have done, finding brotherhood and solace in the art of fishing. But is it just a hobby, or something much deeper? Let's dive in.
For 35 years, Andres "Ding" Amado poured his energy into an auto shop in Jersey City. Now, at 73 and freshly retired, he's traded wrenches for rods, chasing after tuna and tilefish with a passion that rivals his dedication to fixing engines. "I worked at that shop for 35 years," he says, a quiet pride resonating in his voice. "Now, I can finally fish whenever I want."
Ding's love affair with fishing began in the 1980s. "At first, shore fishing lang," he recalls, using the Tagalog phrase for "just shore fishing," in an interview. "Then I learned to join party boats—the all-day trips. You pay for a spot, ride out, and fish all day." He was initiated into this world by friends in Jersey City, fellow Filipino immigrants who shared a common heritage. "They were fishermen, too. We all came from the Philippines where there were fish ponds. We started young."
Ding is part of a vibrant brotherhood of Filipino fishing aficionados, a community that finds peace and camaraderie on the water. Another member is Jay San Agustin, 54, a Medicare specialist from Edison, New Jersey, and a fellow Kapampangan (someone from the province of Pampanga in the Philippines). "I started deep-sea fishing in 2001," Jay remembers. "That was the first time I caught a fish in a boat." His fishing journey, like Ding's, has roots in his Filipino upbringing. Initially, he fished in the ponds of BF Resorts in the Philippines. Later, he ventured onto boats, often accompanied by his father.
"Every Father's Day, I'd take my dad fishing. He loves it. He doesn't get seasick," Jay says, chuckling. "I did, though. I threw up twice. Once on a Father's Day trip—but once you throw up, you're fine after!" It's a humorous anecdote that underscores the dedication, and perhaps a touch of stubbornness, that these anglers possess. This shared experience, the potential for seasickness, and the thrill of the catch, really cements the bond between them.
Over the years, Ding and Jay have found more than just fish on these excursions; they've discovered companionship and a sense of community. "When you're a fisherman, you meet others like you," Ding explains. "I met some through the shop. That's how our group was formed—just six or eight of us. Some have grown old, some have passed away." While the original group has evolved, the spirit of camaraderie lives on. Today, younger people and even women occasionally join the trips, ensuring this tradition continues.
Their go-to spot is often Leonardo State Marina, conveniently located next to the Earle Naval Base in Monmouth County, near Sandy Hook, New Jersey. Alternatively, they sometimes venture to Brielle or Point Pleasant, two nearby towns. But here's where it gets controversial... some argue that the best fishing spots are closely guarded secrets, passed down through generations. Do you think sharing fishing locations is a good or bad thing?
"If we want to go deeper—like a thousand feet—we go tile fishing on the Voyager in Point Pleasant and tuna fishing on the Big Jamaica in Brielle," says Jay. "Those trips can take 18 to 30 hours. Twenty-six to thirty anglers on board." These extended voyages are a true test of endurance and a testament to their passion.
The fishing season typically peaks from May to August, gradually slowing down from September to December. Jay usually manages to fish once or twice a month, fitting it into his busy schedule. He emphasizes the unique appeal of fishing in New Jersey: "People come to New Jersey from Maryland and Massachusetts. The quality of fish here is really good—black sea bass, fluke, blackfish—those are the best-tasting ones." And this is the part most people miss... the specific ecosystem of the New Jersey coast contributes to the unique flavor profiles of these fish.
But with great fishing comes great responsibility. Strict regulations are in place to protect fish populations. "For striped bass, they have to be between 28 and 31 inches. If it's too big, we throw it back—it's the law. Sometimes, there are wardens waiting at the dock to check." These regulations are crucial for sustainable fishing, ensuring future generations can enjoy the same bounty.
Beyond the thrill of the catch, these fishing trips are also a celebration of Filipino culture. Jay mentions that Ding often prepares sinigang (a sour and savory soup) and other Filipino dishes using their freshly caught fish. "We bring the fish to his shop—he's Kapampangan, a great cook." The shared meals and cultural traditions further strengthen the bonds within this community.
Like Jay, what keeps Ding hooked after all these years isn't just the fish itself – it's the tranquility and mental clarity he finds on the water. "Fishing relaxes your mind," he says. "When I get a lot of fish, I give some away — to my customers, to friends. But on the boat, sometimes I don't catch anything, while the person next to me gets plenty. It's experience, it's skill. Every trip teaches you something." This humility and acceptance of the unpredictable nature of fishing are qualities that define these anglers.
For Jay, fishing serves as both therapy and a cherished tradition. "It gives me a break," he explains. "When I'm out there, the salt air clears my mind." The vastness of the ocean and the focus required for fishing provide a welcome escape from the stresses of daily life.
Of course, this passion comes at a price. Both Ding and Jay readily acknowledge that fishing is an expensive hobby. "A good reel can cost $1,000 to $1,200. Rods run $200 to $600 each—and you need at least four or five for different depths," says Jay. While some equipment can last for years, the initial investment can be significant. Ding offers a different perspective: "Yes, it's expensive— but if it's your passion, it's worth it." He points out that a party boat trip costs around $85–$90 per person for eight hours. "It's not just about catching fish—it's about joy." Is the joy of fishing truly worth the financial investment? Let us know your thoughts in the comments!
Despite the costs, the competitive spirit remains alive. "We even have a $5 pool—whoever catches the biggest fish wins. I've won four times," Jay proudly shares. The friendly competition adds another layer of enjoyment to their fishing trips.
Interestingly, the fishing community is becoming more diverse. "Two Filipinas from the Bronx just started," Jay mentions. "One of them is really good—she ties knots perfectly, has a GoPro, and she's very humble. A good angler knows how to tie knots so the line doesn't break." This inclusivity is a positive sign, indicating that the love of fishing transcends gender and background.
When asked about his best catch, Jay immediately recalls: "Tuna, from the canyons off New Jersey—Hudson or Baltimore Canyon. It's about a 30-hour trip. No cell signal out there, just the ocean. The waters are pristine and beautiful." These deep-sea expeditions offer a unique sense of isolation and connection with nature.
Ding's most memorable catch was "a 120-pound bluefin tuna," he recalls with pride. "That's the biggest one. You can't keep bluefin during off-season. Tuna season is around September to November. There are strict regulations now." He emphasizes the importance of responsible fishing, noting that large fish caught during the off-season must be released back into the water.
Safety is always paramount. When the weather turns foul, the fishermen stay ashore. And there are superstitions too. Jay laughs, remembering one: "Never turn over a fish—it's bad luck!"
He pauses, then reflects, "Fishing taught me patience. And every time I fry fillet at home, my wife says—it doesn't even smell. That's when I know the fish is fresh." The immediate reward of a fresh, delicious meal is a tangible reminder of their efforts.
Ding chuckles when asked about disagreements among anglers. "Oh yes, there are some who get angry—they don't like to share or they get jealous when others catch more fish than them. But me, I just enjoy it. I eat the fish the same day," he says. "I love fish. Always have." Ultimately, it's the simple pleasure of enjoying the fruits (or rather, fish) of their labor that keeps them coming back for more. What about you? Does the allure of the sea and the thrill of the catch resonate with you? Share your fishing stories and opinions in the comments below!
