A See-Worthy Adventure : These Sight-Impaired L.A. Teen-Agers Leave Their Worlds Behind When Boarding the Encore for Fishing and Fun on Coastal Waters

Deckhand Tom Nuno uses his thumb to remove the eye from a sardine before tossing it overboard. He thinks nothing of it. The little fish will swim in circles and attract larger fish to the boat.

It’s a common practice.

Anita Wright, however, suggests that Nuno use more discretion on this particular fishing trip.

“Eyes are a real commodity around here,” she says. “These kids would give anything for one of those.”

Reality sets in immediately.

The 12 young anglers aboard the 75-foot Encore, though they maneuver about the boat with relative ease, are all legally blind. Some are able to see better than others. One has a prosthetic eye and is nearly blind in the other. Another was born with normal eyesight, but robbed of it while an infant by an abusive parent.

“They don’t see as well as it seems,” says Wright, a youth program coordinator for the Braille Institute, “They just make do with what they have.”

Wright has brought the teen-agers to San Pedro for a deep-sea fishing trip, courtesy of the West El Ley Rod & Reel Club and Roger and John Hess, owners of the Encore.

“We did the same thing last year and the kids really enjoyed it, and I really enjoyed it,” Roger Hess says, as he pulls from the docks. “It makes their lives a little better.”

Dolphins are swimming playfully off the starboard rail as the Encore leaves the harbor and Wright points them out to those who can see them. Others focus their curiosity on the bait tanks, which are teeming with live sardines. One leaps from the tank and lands at the feet of Veronica Vasquez. She shrugs and steps away, holding the rail and laughing.

Lonnie Sampson, 17, who hopes to attend the University of Florida, is standing nearby talking basketball, predicting a Florida-Arkansas showdown for the national championship on Monday. “It’ll be a good game, but the Gators will beat Duke (on Saturday),” he says.

Lupe Casillas, 16, doesn’t care much for basketball. “I signed up (for the fishing trip) because I wanted to see what fishing was like,” she says.

Casillas wastes no time trying to learn. She reaches into the tank for a sardine. The first few squirm free, Casillas letting out a shriek and a giggle each time. She finally gets a handle on one, and with a firm grip provokes others into shrieking and giggling, by sticking the struggling fish in their faces.

Nora Meza, 14, wants no part of it. She is trying to ward off the effects of the boat’s constant rocking and rolling. Meza’s looks pale, but insists she is “only a little dizzy” and wants to try fishing.

The Encore stops at a reef outside L.A. Harbor. Richard Mann, Bert Serden, Sid Levy, John and Jack Sidney and the rest of the volunteers from the fishing club grab sardines and bait the young anglers’ hooks, instructing them in the use of their new rods and reels, donated by Daiwa.

Estela Carrillo, 17, tries to grab a sardine of her own but finds the small fish too cold and clammy, and much too lively. That she can’t see the fish has to make the experience all the more unsettling. She backs off with a grin as wide as the horizon.

“You see that expression on their face--that’s what makes us feel like we’re really doing something good,” says Mann, president of the fishing club. “That’s what makes it worthwhile.”

John Hess, co-skipper of the Encore, decides to liven things up even more. Standing atop the bait tank, he nets a small sardine and puts it in his mouth, holding its head with his teeth while it wriggles its tail as if trying to swim down his throat.

Casillas sees well enough to catch that and says, “You don’t know where that sardine has been,” laughing so loudly she has to be scaring the fish.

They certainly aren’t biting.

No complaints, though. For teen-agers who face daily challenges others take for granted, it seems to be a day to forget about life’s harsh realities and just catch some rays, if nothing else.

“It’s pretty fun right now, anyways,” says Carlos Flores, 18, a South Central Los Angeles resident making his second trip with the club. Flores has a degenerative condition that will probably leave him sightless in a few years. His smile is particularly rewarding to Wright and her assistant, Arlene Miranda.

“It makes us all feel good,” says Levy, who also volunteers as a tax consultant for the elderly.

Daniel Torres, 17, of East Los Angeles, has tunnel vision, meaning he can see things straight out but not from side to side. His immediate concern, however, is what to do with any fish he might catch.

“When you catch a fish, can you take it home and keep it as a pet?” he asks.

When told that the idea is to either release the fish or take them home for dinner, Torres seems disappointed at first. Hesitating for a moment, he smiles and decides aloud: “OK, then I want to catch a fish to take home and eat. I can do that.”

Torres and the rest finally get their chance, at an area off the Huntington Beach coast.

Michael Larsen’s rod bends, and he reels as fast as he can. A club member tells him what to do and he soon bounces an energetic mackerel onto the deck. Vasquez gets a hit and pulls in a small calico bass. Sampson hooks up, but loses his fish after only a few seconds.

“But you looked good fighting it,” Wright says.

“Looked good for nothing,” Sampson responds, then hooks up again, and lands a large mackerel.

Meza, who seemed to forget about her seasickness, is pulled from one side of the stern to the other by a large mackerel. Milton Beckman tells her to reel slowly, but she can’t stop, reeling the fish all the way to the top eye of her rod. She doesn’t want to touch the fish but does so after some coaxing by Wright, posing with it briefly before letting go and reaching out to get a hug from a laughing Jose Reyes.

Soon, everybody is either hooked up or posing with a fish. Hermilo Jimenez grabs his fish from the deck and squeezes it as tightly as he can, but it still wriggles free. Flores refuses to take his fish from John Hess, instead lifting Hess’ arm by the wrist to pose with his catch.

Juan Pablo Catalan catches a mackerel, then lands a sand bass. He won’t touch either.

“Oh no, I’m not crazy,” he says.

The volunteers try to keep up with it all, but it isn’t easy. Everyone is hooking up.

“I’ve never done so much hooking and handing off,” Levy says.

But Levy’s job is getting easier. The young anglers seem to have temporarily forgotten about their blindness and mastered the fine art of fishing.

Catalan grabs a rod and runs to the rail, letting fly a perfect cast.

“I haven’t fished much, but now I know how to fish,” he says, waiting for another bite. “I may lack the experience, but I do know how to fish.”

And there are some people in this world who know how to make a difference.