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| Subject: Sharks Billfish and other stories | |
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Author: Jim Day |
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Date Posted: 967578713PDT Keith Poe Called to inform me of that Sharktagger is back online. I.E. His boats working again. We set up a Saturday night Sharking gig with a possible Dorado twist. Erica (Nix) my girlfriend had expressed a desire to go fishing: since Keith releases his sharks I figured it would be a good time to take her, She's pretty sensitive to the idea of killing things. We hooked up around ten and went out to make bait. Nix caught her share and it was good to see she was good with a rod We finally left the harbor about 1:00 am with the addition of Will a friend of Keith's. Keith decided to hit the cooler water up north. We finally set up off Pepperdine. After a slow start the Mako's turned on about four AM. We picked up five: I think my 6 ft male was the largest. All were released. Will caught his first Mako, Keith took his first DNA samples. Nix didn't fish but helped clearing the rods, and watched. I could tell she was having a great time. It was a beautiful night out there. Flat but with just enough breeze to keep us moving. I'd caught a few Mako's in my day, and to be honest I don't get all that excited by them as I used to. Still there kind of like old friends, it's always nice to bring a hundred pound fish to the boat. One weird thing: I've never seen the sharks so lethargic. We only caught Mako's but they all fought like slow dumb blues. I was fishing them with only thirty pound and it still was hard to get a good run. It must be the warm water. At gray light we started talking about DoDo's. After some debate we decided to run to Avalon pick up gas and dines then head to the 277. Keith's boats been down for a while, and a few minor problems kept showing. At this point we noticed the gas gauge was screwing up. When we left it said full now it said half. Since we had the cash for gas we decided to put some in and guestimate our way through the day. The wind came up and we crashed are way through the slop to the west end. Choppy but still a nice run. From there it was a smooth ride down to the town. Keith running his usual 30 to 40 knots. Picked up the fuel at the zoo then got some tired dines at the receiver. The boat took more gas then we thought and the gauge didn't move. (Hmmmmmm..... not good) Still we figured we were almost full and decided to troll down south. East end was crowded we're talking boats everywhere, the first paddy we saw had maybe twenty boats on it. We passed and worked outside. Keith passed out on the engine cover Nix went down below. I rigged up the lines and Will drove. About four miles out off the slide he said: " I think I see a fin or something". When I got up there my heart almost leaped through my chest. Surfing downswell were two distinctive fins: the foreword dorsal the tail following. It was a Marlin. I've never caught a Marlin. In fact I've never even baited one. We've had some jig strikes and seen some free jumpers but I've just never had a good shot. Still I live a rich fantasy life. Every trip I rig my Marlin rod. For years it was a Newell 447 on a jig stick. Forty pound Mono, Bimini, six feet of double line, six feet of 100lb leader. Finally retired it (not that it needed it) and went to a lighter set up. The new rig is a Tld 5 spooled 400 yds of 35lb spectra. Add two hundred feet thirty mono, Bimini, eight feet of double line, three feet of 80 lb mono leader, offshore snap, 18 inches of 80 lb tied to a 6/0 Mustad and you have the picture. It's rigged for small Macks or dines and I've spent a lot of time testing (standing foreword and tossing dead dines with it) The idea here is it's smaller casts better and has a better drag. I'd just rigged this rod two minutes before Will spoke. I was ready: I grabbed a Mack and climbed on the bow. I wasn't really prepared for what I saw. Physically (tackle wise) or mentally. I was bigger it was badder. The space between the Dorsal and tail was at least six feet maybe 7 feet. It was at least a 300 lb plus Broadbill swordfish. My heart was pounding and a lot of things went through my head. The rig was too light, maybe I should go back: pull in the jigs(they were still out) and re-rig on a 50sw. They say that in moments like this small decisions make all the difference. I was standing on the bow: rod in my hand, a live mackerel shaking the my line. I tossed it. To my surprise everything worked just right. The bait landed right in front of the fish, no backlash he didn't spoook, there I was my mack in front of this huge fish. I've read about these things. He just swam right by it. I reeled in and tried again. Same results. For the next fifteen minutes we followed him around. A ritual developed I'd pull in the bait: toss it in front of the fish, and he'd ignore it. I've heard about these fish, the un-cooperative sleeper: to be honest I always felt, that if I was there I could get the fish to eat. After a while my bait died. When I went back for another I was surprised to see Keith and Nix still asleep. I woke them up, grabbed a bait and climbed back on the bow. Keith broke out the video camera, and starting telling us what to do. It was cool. He was half asleep and had no idea we'd become old friends with the fish. We had it down. I'd point were to go. Will would set me up then I'd toss. We had a few more shots before he finally had enough. The last cast was almost perfect He'd just turned like he was doubling back. I threw the bait right in front of him. It landed just right, and he paused: looking it over. I was sure this was it. One problem: after dozens of perfect casts this one was backlashed. I cleared the lash thinking "No don't hit it" He didn't: he just went down. I just watched him go. My first broadbill: I was pretty shook up. About this time someone saw a paddie. We were almost right on it. Will climbed down threw a bait and it instantly go nailed, when he set the hook the fish cut off. I told him to reel into the fish and set the hook a little lighter, they were Dorado. Sure enough: I threw some chum they boiled up. I tossed out a dine and it instantly swam right into the tangle of lines at the Stern. AAAAaaaaaahhhmmmm... No-one had cleared the trolling lines. I started to clear them but the rods on the port side (next to the paddy) were hopelessly snarled. To add insult to injury: my dine had managed to swim right into the mess. There he was swimming in circles right off the back of the boat. While I worked on the web: Dorado after Dorado made passes at my dine four feet off the stern. I finally gave up on the tangle: tossed a bait on another rod but by then they were gone. Will managed a lot of strikes but no blood on the boat. We hit the Paddy again for Nada. They'd moved or something. We tried a second drift: still no fish. About ten minutes later we saw a huge set of boils about two hundred yards off. They were not Dorado: bigger fish I’d say good yellowfin or bigeye. They were headed right at us: huge boils like mackerel on steroids. Since they never free jumped I have no idea what they were. Just about the time they were at casting distance they just disappeared. We soaked or baits (nothing), tried some power drifting but nothing wanted the slow trolled dines. Finally we decided to troll the area with jigs. Once I got the pattern back out: I noticed the fleet. About half a dozen large sportfisshers were milling around trying to figure out why this little skippy was milling around. After a few circles we decided to work out and avoid the rest of the boats. We set a coarse for just outside the 209. The fish were there: we knew it but figured if it was hot here it’d be hot everywhere. Since we hadn’t turned on the radio we had no idea guys were skunked all up and down the line. Four hours and many miles later I realized our mistake. We fished the 277, 209 and went all the way in to the 14 mile bank. Though we found some nice paddies no fish. Not a single fish came into the pattern: no jig strikes. It was a beautiful day though. Keith and Will slept, which gave me a lot of time with Nix. I taught her to drive. Explained the compass to her. Showed her how to hold a course. The water was surreal blue not much wind. Except for the lack of fish it was a great day. After a while she told me I should buy a boat. That fishing would be more fun with just the two of us. Who am I to argue with that. About three Keith woke up. He assessed the situation. Up to then the plan was to work back to Cat fuel at Avolon then head home. He broke out this Nav computer. We were 18 from Avolon 40 from Home. The gas gauge read half so he decided on the straight course. 5 miles later the gauge dropped from half to one eighth. Weird but then again the gauge was off all day. A few minutes later we saw a vessel assist boat towing a Striper. We pulled along side and managed to negotiate ten gallons at two bucks a gallon. We headed on with renewed confidence. Just short of the Long Beach breakwater we ran out of gas. It’s funny how things work. We really thought it must be something else. Hey: this is no Parker and Keith and I do know his boat. After checking everything else we found the dry plugs and fuel filters. No doubt no fuel. We called vessel assist in earnest. 20 gallons 40 bucks on Keith's credit card. Back underway up the inside of the breakwater. By now it was dark. The lights of LA Harbor shone across the calm water inside. Nix was asleep: I almost woke her to show her the lights. At the north end we passed back out to sea. I was pointing out the Fermin buoy when a flare went up. Keith went into commando mode. “GET A ROPE READY” “SOMEONE'S IN TROUBLE” “WHERE”S THE FLASHLIGHT” “BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES”. Errrrr sir there are no hatches to batton. We roared up the breakwater at full speed. We almost missed them. A small 18ft skiboat in total darkness, maybe fifty feet from the rocks. On board was a Mexican family: three generations fishing together. Four kids maybe six adults. The grand father on the bow threw me a line. While we towed them into the breakwater Keith arranged for a tow. Sea Tow would gladly take them off our hands and assured us they’d bring some extra gas. Inside the wall I sat on the stern and talked to the family. Their bait pump had killed their battery. They had no lights, no radio, no anchor. As it turned out they only had one flare which they a had saved for the last minute. Seventy five feet from the rocks they had fired their only flare. It was only by luck that Keith and I were looking right at the Point Fermin at that moment. No-one else saw them. They would of been on the rocks in minutes. Like I said it’s funny how things work. The day up till then had it’s pro’s and cons. The sharks were fun, the swordfish amazing. Running out of gas just plain sucked. A little while before, I’d felt like hell. Tired: no sleep, waiting for Vessel Assist to bring us gas. Now it all fit together: an elaborate puzzle that got us in the right place at the right time and saved this family and their boat. After we dropped them: Keith powered around PV on to Redondo. The sea was sloppy but he flew through the chop like it was nothing. Nix and I sat on the engine cover: holding each other kissing, looking at the lights. We were hero’s: we’d made it through the day saved the family and now were almost home. I felt like singing: my heart at least sang. Nix Gave me a big hug. We were probably doing thirty knots in total darkness. “Can he go faster” she said. “Oh he probably will” I said: and of course he did. Tight lines Jim [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |
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