Capt. Allen Duke has been fishing the Gulf waters of Port St. Joe, Fla., for more than 41 years. He took his first client out when he was just 12 years old — just a few years before he ran off to Arkansas to marry his first wife. (He'll tell you that story and many more during an afternoon aboard his 21-foot Blazer Bay boat.)

In a phone call from Presnell's Marina (and R.V. Resort), where he operates his salt water fishing expeditions, Capt. Allen told me that despite the oil spill, the fishing is normal — it's business that's come to a standstill.

"I used to do two trips a day," Allen says. "It's down to one or two a week, now. We've got lotsa fish, just not a lot of customers."

For fisherman like Allen, who depend on the water — and the tourists it attracts — to make their livings, the spill is as devastating to them as it is to the wildlife.

Allen says he thinks his usual summer crowd is scared to put in for vacation time to fish that they might end up wasting. "If you put in for time, you have to take it off. If you can't fish, you gotta go home and watch Oprah, and nobody wants to do that," he says.

But he wants his usual and potential clients to know: The fishing's fine, at least for now. I asked Allen whether he would ride out the disaster or look for alternative income. He said of course he'd stay.

"I'm 54 years old," he explains. "There's not much to go to from here."

I'm not usually one to broadcast personal pleas, but when we talk of boycotting BP (please realize those little BP-labeled gas stops are mom-and-pop owned) or debate whether we should clean or just euthanize the wildlife — know that there is something you can do. Take your vacation to the coast and spend some money.

I can promise from nearly a decade of personal experience that you can't spend a more perfect day than with Allen Duke. Most afternoons your rod plummets as soon as it hits the water — when I was 10, he dubbed me "the fish whisperer," but I know it was all him. He doesn't rely on any fancy sonar, just the lifetime of experience and instinct contained in his tiny, disturbingly tan body.

And if the fish aren't leaping onto the boat, he's liable to take you out to hunt for sand dollars or scallops. He taught me how to clean a fish, I've never seen him wear shoes, and he deserves some more visitors.

If you can't make it to Port St. Joe, the next best thing is Houston Chowhound's Ceviche Throwdown at Soma July 19. All proceeds benefit Gulf Coast fishermen relief. Tickets can be bought here.