The first time I saw a passenger bring his own chair aboard a sportboat about 25 years ago, he was instantly granted “kook” status once he set it up on the rail and fished from it all day. In the quarter-century that followed, I wouldn’t say I saw it a lot, but at least every other season. I just saw a photo posted last week of a chair-angler actively fishing a live bait while seated in a folding champ positioned firmly in the stern corner, and that was about as kooky as it gets.
Up on the bow is one thing, as that’s where newbs tend to gather, much to the dismay of dedicated iron slingers. Somewhere along either side seems to be the most common, but to actually lock in to the stern corner, that’s some pretty bold nerdery.
Sometime last season, WON Field Reporter Brady Garrett told me he’s now all about bringing a chair aboard, and he highly recommended I do the same. The thing is, he brings the chair for the way out and back, and occasionally between stops.
Despite feeling a lot better about the idea, I still knew I wasn’t going to do it. The main reason being simply not wanting one more thing to carry and deal with on the boat. I dug my feet in the sand on the matter and held strong throughout the 2024 season and refrained from joining Team Chair.
Disclaimer: In my opinion, if a boat has adequate seating outside of the galley (sun deck, etc.), I wouldn’t even consider it. We’re talking chair deployment for long treks back to the barn where your other options are cramming into the galley and getting stuck against the window behind dude who fell asleep next to you, or stealthily playing tackle box Tetris to create butt space.
Also, if it’s a full-day boat with bunks, forget about it. I’ll be in the rack before fish are being filleted, firing up movies on my tablet. No chair needed.
Fast forward to this year, and I’m about to board a WON charter with Brady and WON sales dude, Landon Thomas. Brady asked if I was bringing a chair, I said “no” and Landon jumps in with, “Really? Why not?”
Honestly, the wheels were spinnin’ but I couldn’t give him a good reason. And I had one in my truck: my dad-watching-kid-soccer camp-chair that shock-cords together in about one minute and packs down into the size of a loaf of bread into its own zippered (and shoulder-strapped) bag.
So, I made my sportboat chair debut.
Heading to Catalina, Garrett deployed his immediately and started leaning on me to do the same. Now that didn’t make sense to me. I just boarded, and hadn’t been standing long. But he kept at it, and I held strong.
Landon also kept his chair (an even more compact than mine three-legged thing that a turkey hunter might sit on in a blind) in the silo at that point. His eventually came out at some point during the fishing day, but I remained oak-like in my determination to not sit during the fishing hours. I admit, part of the reason for that was wanting to feel the full magic of of the chair when I finally busted it out for the ride home.
Then the time came.
After giving the crew enough time and room to hose things down, the chairs were deployed on the bow. There was one other guy up there, sitting on one of the boat’s big coolers and about to fire up a cigar. The rest of the passengers jockeyed for position in the galley, and tackle box Tetris was short-lived and fruitless. One guy sat on coiled-up anchor rope.
It was glorious. I faced the direction we were traveling with an elbow on the rail, and it being a warm and sunny day, the occasional splash to the face was the cherry on top. Three-plus hours that would have otherwise been spent standing (after a full day of doing so) was instead spent around the ocean equivalent of a campfire. I even dozed off a couple times.
And now, I’m all-in.
