Sport fishing is No. 1 highlight of this Caribbean holiday

I am an obsessive planner of holidays. But even I have to admit: sometimes, the most memorable bits of a trip are the serendipitous, last minute and unexpected. The time I will remember most from this trip, and the experience that far surpassed anything else we did, wasn't even imagined before we left England. We decided it on a whim, researched it in a few minutes on Trip Advisor and booked with a few quick emails.

Deep sea fishing aboard the Kon K'lma with Captain Andy was the highlight of our Christmas holidays.

I haven't fished since spending a sweltering day on a man-made Missouri lake, sitting in a tiny aluminium rowboat for hours, no sound but the crackle of a Cardinals baseball game on the radio, while my grandfather waited for a catfish to chomp the line hanging over the side. I was about 8 years old, and the experience defined my understanding of boredom for my life to come. (Fortunately, it didn't put me off baseball.)

There was another aspect of fishing quietly poking my awareness, however. Back home hung a photo of my other grandfather standing proudly beside a five-foot-long sailfish, suspended off the stern of a multi-tiered fishing boat hanging called The Skipjack. The fish itself hung on the wall above, vibrant blue sail and shining grey skin immortalised by a clever taxidermist. No offense to Missouri, or to the first grandfather, but beautiful fish, palm trees and ocean swells seemed more glamorous. It also seemed like something only serious fishermen did, however. Combined with the prices when I'd checked them in Florida, I'd never been brave enough to give it a try.

And then, on the cruise, someone mentioned how good the fishing was in the Puerto Rico Trench, and our interest was piqued. Why not try it?

I suspect it could have been a disaster for complete fishing virgins to bluster into big time fishing territory, but Captain Andy was a magnificent guide and tutor. A native Puerto Rican born on a hillside you see as you pull out of port, son of a local fisherman, who now splits his time between commercial fishing and running his charter boat with his brother, Andy has local fishing in his veins. The result is not only a fun day out ... as he can speak intelligently on pretty much every aspect of Puerto Rico you think to ask about ... but a higher chance of catching a fish.

We ended the day with a wahoo and a mahi mahi, both respectably sized and highly prized for eating. Andy had been on the radio to other boats and as of the time we were wrapping up our day, they hadn't caught anything. Since I'm a first timer, Andy's line configurations and choices of lure and bait all looked like arcane black arts to me. But they clearly worked.

We booked for a whole day, starting at 9 and returning to our car, filleted sides of fish in plastic bags, around 4. That included a stop for snorkelling and lunch. The cost was US$600. Yes, quite an investment in a day out, but not so much if you consider we were chartering a boat and the undivided attention of two crew members for the whole day. Andy said he didn't like to split charters, as it could quickly cause tensions when one person wanted to head home while others wanted to stay out. As the only guests, we controlled the timetable.

Realistically, to say that we caught fish is stretching it. Andy did all the work; we didn't take any action until the fish was on the line and it was time to reel it in. We started with a pleasant cruise along the coast, Andy pointing out highlights while he set out the lines. He explained how he always used live bait, and showed off shining, bright-eyed, 8-inch long sardine-like fish that would have been good enough for a grocery store fish counter. Onto big, nasty hooks those went, with a variety of colourful lures above them. Then came the line setting. Andy let out six different lines from different parts of the boat, including two from gallows-like contraptions projecting from either side. This ensured that nothing got tangled, and is clearly a real art.

One essential warning: this is not an outing for those prone to motion sickness. Though the day was beautiful, the sea was quite choppy thanks to the dying days of the Christmas winds. You're close to the water and, unlike a sailboat, you're bobbing along with the swells rather than slicing through them. I love being on the water and have delighted in sailing on some rough seas, yet here for the first time I approached the edge of sea sickness. Avoiding the cabin, keeping my eyes on the horizon and breathing in lots of fresh air kept the worst effects at bay but, to be honest, it wasn't completely conquered until the adrenaline triggered by a fish on our hook replaced it.

The excitement starts with a crack of sound when a line suddenly starts spinning out. Andy rushes to the correct spot, starts reeling the line in and directs you to the chair anchored to the centre of the deck. Then it's over to you, to crank the reel steadily as the reassuring weight on the line tells you that something good waits at the end of the process. Or not. My fish, a sleek and speedy wahoo, often swims faster than the speed of the boat and thus feels at times as if it's slipped the line. Thanks to Andy's experience, I kept reeling ... minutes seemed like ages, and it's actually quite hard work on your arm muscles ... until my catch was dragged to the surface and was clearly visible streaking through the waves. This is the most exciting moment of all, particularly magical when my husband was catching his mahi mahi. That glint of blue, yellow and green arcing out of the water was like a rainbow given animate life. At that moment, I almost wanted to release the beauty back into the wild. Then I remembered how tasty mahi mahi is. (And how much we were paying for this fish!)

As the fish broke the surface, Andy leaned over the side of Kon K'lma with hook and net, grabbing a wriggling, slippery creature who could do serious damage with a whack of its muscular tail. I suspect this is the bit that requires the most skill, and I was particularly glad we weren't attempting it.

Two fish ... and far more than we could eat before we left ... in the cooler, we had lunch and headed The Circle of Life) and the fillets went into plastic bags destined for the kitchen. Each fish could have easily served 12-16 in restaurant sized portions, so we sent about half of our catch away with Andy.

back towards shore. Andy makes a mean sandwich, and a cold beer tastes magical after exertion in the salty air. We moored for a bit off a small offshore island with a reef tailing off one side for some of the nicest snorkelling we'd had in the Caribbean. Then is was back to the marina, where Andy filleted both fish with a dexterity that would put many professional chefs to shame. The spines, heads and tails went over the side to feed the tarpons lurking in the shallows (I found myself humming

Very important lesson here: if you're going to do a fishing excursion, do it very early in your trip so you have time to eat what you catch. We spent the next three days eating fish. It was lovely to be able to make fish tartare with complete confidence, and mahi mahi (better known as dorade in Europe) is perfect for that. Grilled with a side of mango salsa was a triumph as well. The biggest revelation, however, was the wahoo. I'd never had it and had never heard of it, though I knew it's Hawaiian name of ono. It has the firmness of swordfish, the colour of mackerel, and a flavour somewhere between the two. It's spectacular, and a joy to cook with. A last chunk, frozen in a lock-top plastic box, actually made it home to end its days in a thai green curry the night after our return to a much colder, greyer England. It was a warm, comforting and colourful extension of the best part of our holiday.

Want to book with Captain Andy? You can find him here.