Part VII Concluded: I Fall On My Fat Butt...Twice!
It was late Wednesday (late for us!), I'm standing at the stern of the boat, about five feet from the Port corner where another angler is fighting what looks like a good fish.
And for the first time since noon on Tuesday, I'm bit.
It was nothing spectacular as pick ups go. My spool spun a second under my thumb, hesitated for a microsecond, then started spinning again. I put the reel in gear, but only half way to strike, and I let the line come really tight. The fish was swimming pretty fast, but I really don't know if it realized it was hooked. Then I slowly pushed the drag up to strike, as smoothly as I could---no jerk there---and lifted the rod tip. I figured either it's coming off now, or chances are I've got him well hooked at this point.
The fish didn't come off. Rodless, Choose Your Weapon... We're all obsessed with our gear. We ask each other what we like and don't like, what we prefer for one purpose and what we prefer for another.
We discuss endlessly how to rig, how to bait, how to fish...all of it.
Well, I already told you the rig I was fishing: Daiwa Saltist 40 Lever Drag 2-speed (the blue one), with the drag set at 15lbs at strike, a hair over 18lbs at full (there's not that much more on a Saltist once you go past strike...I may need to look into that).
The reel was spooled with Jerry Brown Line One Solid, 350+ yards of 65lb white.
No mono at all.
The rod is an OC Rod I got from Toeknee, who posts on this board. It is a 7HF (I think I have the model number correct), a seven foot long black stick with some pretty good lifting power and a flexible tip. The reel seat and guides are first rate, and the construction of the rod is top notch. The rod is rated 30-60lbs, Toeknee maintains that it's a solid 50lb rod, and for a lot of people it might be. I pull pretty hard, though, and I get my substantial backside into it when I do, so it feels more like a 40lb rod to me. That's why I chose it to fish 40. I wasn't disappointed!
I was rigged with about 25 feet of 40lb Blackwater Shock Leader Fluoro. I have realized since that fight that I didn't need that much fluoro...10 feet is plenty, and is just 15 feet less for the sardine to drag behind it. But in this instance, I had chosen to put 25 feet on, and that's what I had.
I connected my spectra to my fluoro with a Tony Pena knot.
Those who were on the trip probably saw me tie it a few times. I think it is the best knot for the purpose (if you have solid spectra...hollow is a completely different animal), and I was very pleased to see that the crew on Intrepid tend to agree. Jesus and Romo are certainly Pena converts! In any case, I had absolute confidence in that connection. My hook was a 1/0 Owner Gorilla. That's right, 1/0. To be honest, that hook might have been one size too small for fish of this caliber, but 2/0 would do you fine, and 3/0 was more than big enough.
I have had discussions with some people---notably Mike Lackey and Fishybuzz---about Owner hooks. The circle hooks are excellent, but some anglers (those two in particular) have a bias against Owner's J-hook models. They don't like the "cutting edge," they feel it makes too big a hole in the fish's mouth, and you risk having the fish throw the hook in the course of a long fight. That hasn't been true for me, but I haven't done anywhere near the amount of fishing these guys have. I don't dismiss their opinions, and will always look to see if there is a better option. Having said that, I like Owner hooks, circle and J, and I have a bunch of them in my tackle bag. They have never failed me, and I have never seen a compelling reason not to use them. I was looking for a J-hook, I wanted it small to be stealthy, but I wanted it sturdy to not bend. As I recall, Miles was fishing Flyliner hooks, and he straightened two in a row, on two good fish. He was pretty unhappy about it, as would I have been. So, given what I wanted, I had a choice of Gorillas or Offshores, and the smallest ones I had were 1/0 Gorillas...so that's what I chose. Again, in this case I was not disappointed.
ASIDE: Many here will probably remember me singing the praises of circle hooks in general, and Owner Mutus and Super Mutus in particular. I've caught lots of tuna using circle hooks, along with pretty much all other species, and I like them a lot. So why was I using a J-hook? Because I it's much, MUCH easier to butt hook a sardine with a J-hook. I am already pretty good at nose hooking baits with circle hooks, but I had a heck of a time trying to butt hook the baits with them. I tried a lot, too. Then I tied on a J-hook, and suddenly it was much easier. 'Nuff said. In any case, I used an Erwin knot to connect the hook to the fluoro. It is the best knot I know, and virtually the only knot I use. Again, it has never failed me, not even once...though (again) I don't fish as much as many of the people who post here. I was wearing a fighting belt and expected to use it. That was how I was armed when I set the drag and started the fight.
I had been on for all of 10 seconds, and already I realized that this was a bigger tuna than any I had ever fought before... Sometimes I Have To Learn The Hard Way...
I have had a certain conversation with harddrive many times. He says that I'm stubborn, and refuse to learn something until it bites me in the hindquarters. I respond that I am analytical, not stubborn. If someone tells me something new and it makes sense, I don't need a lot of convincing. If, in my own subjective analysis, whatever they tell me doesn't make sense, I tend to follow my own counsel. Does that qualify as stubborn? Maybe so... This whole trip was a learning experience for me. Some of the lessons came easily and painlessly...others were carved into my hide in agonizing fashion. Either way, the lessons I learned I won't soon forget! In that vein, and in retrospect, there are some things that I did during this fight that I think I did correctly and well. Other things were very definitely errors in judgment, though in some cases I couldn't have known until the error smacked me in the face.
So... Things I Did Right:
1. When the fish hit, I had a rig in my hands in which I had total confidence, especially the reel and the knots.
2. I got the reel in gear quickly, setting the hook in the corner of the fish's mouth.
3. I put just as much pressure on the fish as I could all the way through, and I made sure I gained line whenever I could, especially early in the fight.
4. I took advantage of the few opportunities I had to make the fish fight while resting myself.
5. I had the fantastic wisdom to choose to fish on Intrepid. You'll see what I mean about that in a while.
Things I Did Wrong:
1. I did not go into the fight prepared to fish the rail. I'd never done it, never even tried, and didn't know how. A big tuna on light line is not the ideal learning opportunity.
2. The rod I was using was not constructed as a rail rod. That turned out to be a bigger mistake than I could have possibly imagined beforehand.
3. My rod belt has a gimbal pin, but I took it out before the trip and never put it back. The rod has gimbal grooves too, but I fished the entire fight with the rubber gimbal cover squeaking loudly inside the plastic cup of my rod belt.
4. I wasn't in as good shape as I wanted to be for the trip.
5. I was using a 40lb outfit, in a fight that was better suited for 60lb gear. That is the only mistake that, given the same circumstances all over again, I would repeat. I would have cut off my left arm for a bite at that point...dropping down to 40lbs doesn't seem like too much of a price to pay... Game On!
The first part of the fight was easy, so much so that I might have gotten a little overconfident, at least the way things turned out. I was on the stern with the fish pretty much straight back. It cut a little to starboard at first, and took me a couple of steps towards the other corner, but then it reversed direction, and headed back towards the Port corner again...where everybody and their mother-in-law to be (yes Jan, I am talking about you) was fishing.
There were maybe five or six anglers there flylining, and two people hooked up, all in a very small space.
I thought to myself "Oh-oh!" I had an advantage, though.
I had been gaining line steadily ever since the hook up. I was lifting up and winding down, which is how I learned how to fish. I had the butt of my rod in my rod belt, and the tip of my rod pretty high...I wasn't pinned to the rail. If I had been, that would have caused problems then. Instead, I was able to step back, and fish from behind the crowd. I've done that before, but never on such a powerful fish. It was fun and exciting, and my heart was beating a mile a minute. I actually fished there for a minute or two...it seemed much longer!...and I was able to keep pressure on the fish and gain some line.
I had no illusions that this would be a short fight, of course, but I felt like I was in control, given the mess that was taking shape in front of me. To make the point, there was a tangle going on, and three deckies trying to maintain order and save hooked fish. I kept pulling, though, and soon enough my fish decided to make a move up the Port rail. At first it was a subtle move, because the fish was still pretty far out. I kept gaining, though, and as a result put more pressure on the fish. I could tell when it really felt the strain, because it took off like a bat out of Hell, heading out and up towards the bow.
The sound of my reel surrendering drag was noticeable, and led to the briefest of conversations between Kevin (who was working the deck) and Colin.
Kevin: Colin...
Colin: I've got him.
And he did. I don't know exactly what that was about, by the way. I had caught a couple of fish, and had given a demonstration that I had some idea of what I was doing. Nevertheless, I was obviously on a good fish, and I don't think Kevin wanted me to lose it for lack of assistance. So he assigned Colin to babysit me, never guessing how long that job might take. I will tell you right now that I was very glad to have the company. Colin didn't have to do much for most of that fight, but he was definitely my security blanket, and he both kept me laughing and focused at the same time. He gave me instruction when I needed it, especially to move up or down the rail a half a second before I was going to do so. I can laugh about that now, but the truth is he had a good sense of which way the fish was going most of the time, even before I did. The thing is, I was doing a good job of keeping the fish straight out from me, and I would follow the fish as it moved, but Colin knew before the fish did which way it would go.
He had me a step ahead each time, and that helped me gain line too. For what my opinion is worth, he's already a fine deckhand. And the boy is huge Not quite the size of Cameron his brother, but that immense presence and soft, deep voice were very reassuring. I do not in any way underestimate the value of having Colin there with me.
So we moved up the rail towards the bow, with the fish headed well off to port, for all the world as if it wanted to reach the rocks standing out there in the distance. Now all the line I gained at the beginning really played in my favor, because the fish made the first of what would be many runs, pulling drag quickly and steadily and headed for the horizon.
I am pretty sure if the fish had been 175 yards out when that run started, it would have spooled me. But I had already gained some 80 yards before the run, and leaning into the rod and pulling, I stopped it out at about 300 yards, I guess.
When the fish stopped, I went ahead and pushed the drag to full.
Way early, I know, but I had a sense that if I didn't make the fish work hard for every foot, I would regret it. I also did something I have never done before in a fight: I went to low gear. Here's the thing, I've never fished two-speed reels before, not like this. I've caught fish using a two-speed, but I never once had to drop into low gear to do it. But I was in a tug-of-war...the fish pulling an inch of drag every few seconds, and me absolutely unable to make any cranks when it eased up...it was just pulling too hard.
And then, as clear as day, I remembered a conversation I'd had with harddrive some three or four weeks before the trip. It was actually a IM conversation of all things:
Me: So, I've never actually used a two-speed reel...when do I put it in low gear? harddrive: Whenever you can't turn the handle in high gear!
It was as simple as that. No sooner did I remember that conversation than I also remembered I was fishing with a two-speed reel. I pressed the button, and I started gaining line. Just like that. Of course I wasn't gaining much line with each crank, but I was able to turn the handle some 20-30 times, and in the process, "horsing" the fish towards the boat. If I thought the previous scenario was tug of war, this was far beyond that. The fish was coming, and it really didn't want to. It pulled and pulled, but in low gear the reel wouldn't give up much line at all, and every time I was dragging it closer and closer. I bet that, in all, I probably gained 40 yards that way, but it was 40 yards the fish didn't want to surrender, so it decided to change the game plan for a moment...and scared the life out of me in the process!
The fish turned towards the boat, and came fast, at least until it lost the sense of pressure. I was winding for all I was worth, but I couldn't feel the fish.
I said to Colin "Oh NO! I think he broke off!"
Colin asked me if I was sure, but I kept winding in slack line.
Then I had another "Doh!" moment: I was still in low gear!
I still thought I had lost the fish, but I clicked the lever to put it back in high and get the line back in...and suddenly the line came tight...then tighter...then tighter still. Wow, you can NOT imagine my relief!
Plus, I had gained some 50-60 more yards of line.
That gave me the energy to pull even harder, and bring the fish even closer.
Back down the rail towards the stern...half way there and the fish goes the other way. Now Colin really earned his keep, warning me as I was coming to the piled up anchor line and helping me step on it without falling. I did turn my ankle ever so slightly on that rope later in the fight, but it never toppled me.
Thank you Colin!
It was then that I told him I was worried about the anchor line...that I had lost a good fish earlier in the trip by getting wrapped. Colin replied that I had nothing to worry about. The anchor was almost straight up and down, and my fish was way out off the Port rail, still maybe some 150 yards out. Back into low gear, dragging the fish closer and closer, until it turned towards the boat again. Again I was stuck in low gear, and again the line went slack, but this time I realized what was going on, and put it back in high right away. Yup, still on. Feeling cocky, I turned to Colin and said "Look at that! I love it when I get free line!" Then, of course, the fish took off on another long run away from the boat, and even in low gear (again) it took maybe 100 yards, leaving me more or less where I'd been before.
"Damn," I thought, "this is a mean fish!"
So when it ran, I started putting my thumb on the line against the fore grip, adding "cook's drag." I was lucky that the line never cut me badly when I did that, though I did wear a groove in my thumb by the end of the fight. But the extra couple of pounds of drag seemed to do the trick.
The runs the fish made were shorter, and the turns towards the boat became more frequent. I remain convinced that the only reason I didn't lose the fish in that phase of the fight was because of the line I was able to gain at the beginning. The fish did eventually take me down to what must have been my last 50 yards or so of spectra, but in sudden terror gave me the strength to grind it back...back...almost all the way back inside 100 yards.
By then, I had been pulling on that fish for more than 45 minutes.
It could have been longer for all I know, but at least that long...and now I was getting tired.
You all should have been expecting that, of course. I was fighting with main strength, and my strength was less than it should have been.
I had been sick for days, and I hadn't eaten much. Plus, I'd been pulling with my arms and my back, fighting what was obviously a pretty big fish in low gear.
I'm guessing that if I had had a harness, I would have been in much better shape, but my mobility would have been lost, and as things worked out, using a harness would have meant losing the fish. Period. No, the thing I really needed to do was use the rail...but I didn't know how.
One very lucky thing happened then, though: the fish moved back up to the bow, taking me up onto the rope again (this is when I turned my ankle, as if I needed that at this point), but also putting me right in front of the anchor stanchion.
OK, I don't know if that's really the right word for it. What I'm talking about is that cylindrical post that rises out of the deck in the bow, about four feet from the Port rail. When the crew pulls the anchor and stows the line for traveling, the line goes down into its hold through a hole near the top of that post. I call it a stanchion. Anyway, the fish was making another run against low gear, and the stanchion was right behind me, so I leaned back and rested my wide derriere right against the post. I spread my legs for balance, and let the fish pull against my weight, rather than my arms. I kept winding down when I could of course, but I probably didn't gain quite as much line that way as I would have earlier in the fight. It didn't matter, though.
Resting against the stanchion allowed me to slowly pull the fish a lot closer, while at the same time catching my breath. If I hadn't done that, I am sure beyond sure I would have run out of gas and lost the fish.
Of course, the fish eventually pulled the same stunt, running towards the boat, but I was ready. I had caught my second wind, and with more agility than I expected to have, I bounced off the stanchion, popped the reel into high gear, and caught up with the running fish in a moment. Now it took me back towards the stern, steadily, not fast or slow, all the way to the Port corner again. Then, after a brief moment, all the way across the stern to the Starboard corner, then almost immediately, back to the Port corner, and then back up the Port rail about half way.
At that moment, I decided that I had to find a way to use the rail, or I was going to lose the fight...so I sat on the rod butt. Really. I just pushed it down between my legs (off to one side, of course!), and sat on that puppy.
For as long as the fish was pulling and not running, that worked really well too. I was able to make cranks in low gear, and use my fat butt to fight the fish. Of course, the fish didn't stay where it was...it moved back up the rail a bit, and I sat on the rod again.
Another couple of minutes, and it went back all the way up to the bow, and I got to sit against the stanchion again.
Damn, but that fish was full of fight! Now the fight changed though. The fish was much closer to the boat...I know I was inside of 100 yards, probably closer to 80, and I was winning...if I could just last long enough.
Kevin Amazes And Impresses Me...AGAIN
The fish didn't stay up by the bow too long this time. Another five minutes I guess, and then it took me down the rail to the Port corner once more. It didn't go directly there, of course.
We stopped a couple of times along the way, but the fish didn't stay in one place pulling long enough for me to sit on the rod again. I tried twice, and as soon as I did, the fish moved.
So I started trying to use the rail in the classic way (see previous picture of Silent Jim and Wahoodad).
I tucked the rod butt under my right arm pit, palmed the reel with my left hand, and made cranks when I had room to do so.
I am telling you now, I need a lot of practice with this technique!
Frankly, I stink at it!
Even so, I was gaining, and this was working better for me too. The fish was deep now, so the rail made the perfect fulcrum. My timing on cranking was terrible, and even though I was trying to palm the reel, the rod kept turning on the rail. I spent as much effort---or more!---just trying to keep the reel in the correct position, and much of the time I could barely make any cranks.
Of course, like an idiot, I had the reel in high gear throughout this part. Only as I got near to the corner did remember to put it in low gear again.
When I did, I discovered that was a mixed blessing. It was definitely easier to turn the handle, but harder to hold the reel in the proper attitude.
Trust me when I tell you, I was struggling, even as I pulled the fish closer.
Right as I arrived at the Port corner someone called "deep color" on my fish, but I never saw that.
It started to circle, though, even though it was pretty deep.
At first Jesus came up, and he tried to help me with my rail technique to no avail.
Then from across the stern came Frank. He was on a fish, and he had it much closer to the surface. Kevin was with him.
Frank got right to the corner, and made his stand...right next to me!
Both of the fish were circling clockwise, and in one instant they had wrapped.
"Oh NO!" I thought, but Jesus grabbed Frank's rod, and Kevin grabbed mine, while we both stepped back a second to breathe.
Quickly Kevin discovered the direction of the wrap and undid it.
Then I saw the most amazing fish dance ever:
Frank took his rod back an continued his fight with Jesus' help as the two fish circled. Every time Frank's fish wrapped my line, Kevin ducked under and immediately unwrapped it again.
Over and over, as the fish circled. As Frank tried to finish that fight, Kevin kept dancing around the wrap, ducking under Frank's line with my rod.
Finally Frank's fish was so close to the surface that the fish didn't wrap each other.
Kevin handed me my rod, and immediately my fish took off across the stern.
I was closer now. Maybe not deep color, but very close to that.
Once again, Colin was my babysitter as I fought the fish in the Starboard corner, when down the Starboard rail comes Ken The Bushman on a fish. His was a relatively fresh one though, and far out.
We crossed with any trouble.
As my fish started up the Starboard rail, Kevin called out to Colin: "go up to the galley door, and make your stand there!"
Colin just said "OK," as we worked our way up the rail.
For those who haven't been on Intrepid, there's a door on the Starboard side, just a hair forward of midship, that leads directly into the galley from outside. It's purpose is to make it easier to bring supplies into the galley, and trash out. It's a good spot for a door, obviously, and makes a good landmark too. It is also just a bit forward of Intrepid's stabilizers, which can apparently cut off a circling fish if things go perfectly wrong.
So there we were, and as I understood it, I needed to really try to finish that fish then and there. I did pretty well at first.
I had the fish first at deep color, and then pretty much at close color, but then it tried very hard to go under the boat, managing to rub the line against the hull.
I was terrified, and pulled with all I had left, and out the fish came, but it was done circling for the moment.
It took off pulling drag back to the stern, and then all the way across the that damned Port corner again.
I did a good job following the fish and saved a lot of line, but now the fish was 100 feet down again... And I was whipped.
An hour and a half, probably more, and suddenly I didn't think I was going to make it.
I tried to use the rail, but the reel was slipping in my hand, and I couldn't make any headway. I was puffing like a steam engine, fighting for all I was worth, but the rail wasn't doing me any good. The rod wasn't built for it---I had bare pole against the rail---and I just didn't have the technique.
So with all I had left, I put the butt back in my rod belt, and started the lift up, wind down, short strokes, willing the fish to come up at last.
Thank You Jesus...And Everyone Else!!!! I got the fish halfway up, and it just wouldn't come any closer.
I would lift up, but all I did was pull line off the reel, even with my thumb in the line against the fore grip.
I would crank that line right back in, but the fish was just not moving.
I have never felt that helpless on a fish before.
Jesus took my rod for me for a second, and showed me how to use the rail and the rocking of the boat. He made like two cranks, but enough for me to see how it was supposed to go. I took the rod back, and made another 30-40 feet.
Man. at that point the fish was PISSED.
I should say that one thing I've heard about fishing straight fluoro is definitely true...you feel the head shakes down to your toes. I had been feeling the fish's anger and frustration all through the fight, and it was an amazing feeling. I never felt head shakes like that before! But now it was far more intense.
The fish was jerking its head in absolute fury. I was 50, maybe 60 feet from a gaff, and I swear I felt I was tethered to a tornado.
It was amazing, but also exhausting. Now the fish crossed the stern once more.
I didn't let it take any line that time, but now we were all by ourselves in the Starboard corner...and I was beat.
I said to Jesus :
"just hold the rod for a second, OK? I need to breathe!"
He took the rod, and asked me "Are you in the jackpot?"
"No," I told him, "I'm not."
"The fish is about 50 feet down...is it OK if I get you some line?" he asked me then. "Go for it!" I told him.
Jesus made about ten cranks then---in low gear---and that's all. Now the fish was circling in everyone;s vision, and we saw that I had a ball, gnarly ball of tangled spectra on my line, but it was loose and not interfering. Colin and Romo were standing by with gaffs...all I needed was to gain another 10 feet, and I would have the fish.
Jesus handed me the rod, and then something weird happened...
The fish took it's circle wide, trying to go up the Starboard rail one more time, and that brought it right to the surface, right next to the boat.
I don't know if either Colin or Romo thought that might happen, but they were ready!
Romo got a gaff in the back towards the tail, and a moment later, Colin got one in the collar.
Then they tried to pull the fish over the rail. Let me tell you, they were struggling! It took three tries, but the fish finally slid defiantly over the rail, and flopped on the deck.
Someone told me later that Jesus had finished the fish for me.
In a way that's true...we were both holding the rod when the fish was gaffed, though I was the one holding it when the fish hit the deck. More importantly, it was Jesus who made the last crucial 25 feet.
If I had been in the jackpot, the fish wouldn't have counted, and I'm OK with that. On the other hand, I fought that fish for well over an hour and a half, the old fashioned way, and I brought it to the boat...four times...all by myself.
Did Colin help me all the way? Yes he did.
Did Kevin save me from being wrapped and cut off? Oh he definitely did!
When I ran out of steam, with 50 feet left to fight, did Jesus help me out? Damned straight he did!
If that makes you all think I didn't catch the fish, you're welcome to think and say so.
As for me, I consider that I caught that fish, and I count it as my personal best ever tuna. I will say this, when my fish came over the rail, I heard a couple of soft "Whoas" from the people watching. I don't think they thought my fish was that big until it came over.
During the fight, some people had given me some good-natured ribbing (Drop your purse and PULL Rodless!)
There wasn't any more of that after the fish hit the deck. I Don't Mind Looking Ridiculous!
The aftermath of a big fish like that is predictable in a way, though it was my first ever over 100lbs (122.5 at the scales, after four days in the RSW). Kevin took a couple of photos, and a lot of people congratulated me.
Fishybuzz (who had promised me a chance at my personal best on this trip) was giving me the old "I Told You So!!!!)
Brad and JWFogg had kind words too.
Even Wahoodad came over to tell me "nice fish."
Willy said the same later.
Kona Mike suggested that I keep the hook as a souvenir (I did),
and Kevin asked me if I wanted it to have the RSW treatment (of course!).
People started speculating then how big the fish really was. Estimates were conservative, of course, but the consensus was between 105 and 112. I was also told that a couple of the other fish that had come over the rail were probably bigger.
I didn't care even a little bit! I was ecstatic with that fish, and I was pretty sure it would go over 100lbs.
That was more than good enough for me... Romo was going to gut the fish then, but I asked him to let me get a couple more photos first, this time with the fish lying on its belly.
Colin helped me try to pose the fish, and it was a struggle on the slippery deck, but we finally got it how we wanted it.
Brad_G was going to do the honors, first with his camera, and then with mine. I knelt behind the fish, holding the dorsal fin the way Colin showed me I should, and Brad took a couple of photos. Then I tried to get my camera out of my pocket, and I couldn't...not kneeling like that.
So I tried to stand up, and just as I did, the boat rocked, I lost my balance... ...and fell on my butt in front of the whole boat.
I started laughing as much as anyone, and I tried to stand up again.
The boat rocked again, I felt dizzy, and...yep. I fell over on my butt a second time, this time all the way onto my back, too.
Suddenly the rocking of the boat was more like spinning, and I decided to stay right where I was a for a minute.
Lying on my back, I told Brad "never mind with my camera!" To which he replied "I'll email them to you!" I told Romo to go ahead and prep the fish for the RSW...no more photos for me! Then I went and sat down and drank some water...like three glasses full.
Of course, after that I had to run to the head again, but after another 20 minutes or so, I felt better.
I thought I could fish then, but then I thought better of it. I would wait another half an hour, drink some more water, and if we were still fishing, I would soak a bait.
Of course, right about when I was ready to think about fishing again, Kevin pulled in the anglers.
It was time to head out and leave the Rocks behind.
It is a magical place, Alijos.
First it threatened to break my spirit, then it totally kicked my ever-loving butt. But in the end, I got my wish too. Lets be honest...could a hard story end any better than that?
Next: Part VIII: We Have Places To Go And Fish To Catch...
Photos: 1. Rodless has an OC Rod too...
2. ...and he thinks he knows how to use it!
3. My best ever tuna, at the gaff
4. The boat took this photo...dashing angler, don't you think?
5. Yes, an moment later I was sitting on my behind
Part VII Addendum: After Action Report
Now that I have some space between me and catching that fish, now that I have written it up, and in so doing forced myself to remember every detail, some last thoughts on my equipment, my fishing, and the Alijos Rocks.
Equipment: I was under gunned...but it was my own fault!
When I was recovering from that fight, and on into the next day, one thought that kept going through my head was that I had nearly been burned because I had, in a sense, brought a knife to a gun fight. In a way, that's true too. The rig I was using was only barely up to the task of catching that fish. But that wasn't the rig's fault, and for two reasons:
1. It was a 120lb fish, and I was using a 40lb rig. People have written here many times before that this is something that can be done, and now I have evidence to prove it. But come on...how much drag do you really want to put on your 40lb rig? 20lbs at the most? A fish that big and that angry, 19-20lbs of drag still equals a long fight, and a long fight means that a lot of things can go wrong. The truth is, it says an awful lot about my gear and my knots that nothing did go wrong. I may have brought a knife to a gun fight, but in the end, it turned out to be a damned fine knife!
2. How well any rig works is more about how the angler uses that gear than the gear itself. The most accurate expression of how I fought that fish has to be "operator error." All I really had going for me was a whole raft of stubborn determination...and the worst technique imaginable. I'm going to learn how to fish the rail properly for my next trip. When I do, I know that very same setup will be all I need to whip a fish of the same size in half the time.
In the final analysis, the whole setup is really a 40lb rig. What I needed was a 50 or 60lb rig, set up to fish 40. Why? Because I really don't expect---most of the time!---to be catching fish larger than 80lbs on a 40lb setup. If I need to use 40 to catch a 120lb fish, I need a rig that is made to catch fish that big, even if I use lighter line on it.
I don't know if that makes sense to anyone else here, but it's clear to me.
Saltist Lever Drag reels...
I have no complaints, just a single, small quibble. The reel worked like a champ for me. The drag was strong and smooth and held up well the entire fight. It may be lightweight, but it fights fish like a much heavier reel.
Before I fish again, I want to make sure the drag washers are properly greased, because the reel really took (and stood up to!) some abuse. But I have no worries about that either. The one tiny little thing is that the drag ramps up steeply, and "strike" is pretty darned close to "full." I mentioned that in my description of the fight, I know, but it bears repeating. As we were heading out Sunday, I set the drag to 15lbs at strike. I then pushed it to full and only got about 18.2 lbs. The reel is supposed to have a wider range than that (17 at strike, 23 at full), but for fishing 40lb line, I didn't want strike to be heavier than 15. During the fight, though, I really wished I had 22lbs at strike!
Again, though, that is more a function of the fish than the reel. Even on an 80 or 90lb fish, that reel would have owned it. It put out a lot of drag, given that it was set up to fish 40lbs. It's just that catching a fish that size on 40lb line is pushing that reel to its limit...pushing the inside of the envelope, if you will.
Again, it says a lot about the reel that I did catch the fish, had no failures of any kind, and the reel was in perfect shape at the end of the fight, even if I wasn't.
I'm Telling You, An OC Rod is a GOOD Rod!
Just like the Saltist reel, the rod I was using was up to the task and then some. There are two reasons why it was the wrong rod for that fight:
1. It is probably just a hair light for a fish of that size.
2. Mine is not wrapped as a rail rod.
But having said that, I am very, VERY happy with that rod. I believe that model is a fantastic 40lb rod. It's just that very few 40lb rods (again, like the reel) are honestly designed to catch 120lb tuna. Period.
There were a lot of Seeker enthusiasts on the boat, of course. I used one (borrowed from Fishybuzz) for the very first time, and I came away truly impressed. They are fantastically strong rods...so much so that a rod Fishy uses for 50lbs (the one he loaned me) could easily be used by other anglers to fish 60. So yes, the Super Seeker I used to fish 50lbs had more lifting power than the OC Rod I used to fish 40lbs.
I would have been astonished it that wasn't the case!
But you know what? That OC rod is a damned fine rod, and the best deal I can imagine for the money. It is light and strong and forgiving, and it performed like a champ. Remember, I had to drag that fish back in from about 300 yards out, kicking and screaming, if you will, four different times. I put one HELL of a lot of pressure on that rod---especially early in the fight while I was fresh---and it gave me all I could have asked for and more. Really! I'm keeping that rod, and I'm going to fish it...a lot. It is a fantastic 40lb rod for me, and I am going to use it at Guadalupe and at Cedros and offshore too. Anytime I want to fish 40lbs, and think think I might run into fish 40-80lbs, even up to 90 or 100lbs, I know I can count on that stick.
Shameless Plug: Tony Hale (Toeknee on the message boards) is the proprietor of OC rods, and a great guy. His rods are quality products from top to bottom, well-conceived, well-designed, and well constructed, using top of the line components and materials. For anyone who is in the same boat I was...lots of enthusiasm, no gear...OC Rods are a fantastic place to start, especially for fishing 50lbs and under. His prices are more than fair, and his rods will catch you fish. If you are like me, and you need to begin assembling an arsenal of rigs as you expand your fishing, you really can't do better than OC, especially in this economy.
Evidence? Hey, I used an OC rod to catch my biggest ever tuna. It was the wrong rod (a little too light, not configured to fish the rail), and I pushed it as hard as I possibly could. The rod did me proud, and that's good enough for me.
Yes, I will buy other makes of rods. I really liked the Super Seeker I got to use this trip, and I like Calstar Grafighters as well. But you know what? I will buy more OC rods too.
I Need More Gear!!!
The gear I have is good! I like it, and will continue to use it. To fish the Rocks the way I want to, though, I think I need a 60lb rig, and maybe one more 50lb rig. If I go longer, I will need more and heavier gear. More importantly, I need my heavier rods to be wrapped as rail rods.
Let me put it this way...
- 'Lupe is a step up in fighting class from offshore (and a wonderful place to fish...hope they open it soon!).
- Alijos is a step up in fighting class from 'Lupe.
Each time I have taken a step up, I have discovered that my gear needed to be better. Catching small albacore on an overnight boat (my first San Diego trip in 2001) really only needed 20lb line. Catching yellowtail and yellowfin on a 3-day trip (2003, 2004) called for 30lb line and a somewhat better caliber of rod.
Then I went to Guadalupe (2006). That was a different ballgame, even though I used 30lb gear. The good news is that the gear I used I borrowed from harddrive, and it was up to the task. By 2009, I started assembling my own gear (one paltry rig), but it was pretty stout, and served me well at Cedros. It turned out I was less well-prepared for the Rocks.
That's the truth of it too: I am well-prepared to fish offshore, or to go to 'Lupe, Benitos, or Cedros. I have what I need to catch fish up to about 90 or 100 lbs, and I am well-armed for the 50-70lb class. What I need now is gear that is designed to fish lighter line (40, 50, 60lbs) for bigger fish. I don't have those setups yet, but I hope to add at least some of that for next year (assuming I get to fish next year!).
The Rail Is My Friend!
More than anything else, much more important than any of the other items on this list, I must learn to fish the rail effectively and well. There's just no other way. I plan to return to Alijos, and more than once. When I do, sooner or later I will find myself in the same position again, too big a fish on too light a rig. Or even any big fish on pretty much any rig. I no longer have the physical strength to manhandle a fish of that size to the boat. Well, I showed that I can get it to the boat, but I didn't have enough left to bring it to gaff. Knowing how to fish the rail changes everything.
Next: On To Part VIII!
It was late Wednesday (late for us!), I'm standing at the stern of the boat, about five feet from the Port corner where another angler is fighting what looks like a good fish.
And for the first time since noon on Tuesday, I'm bit.
It was nothing spectacular as pick ups go. My spool spun a second under my thumb, hesitated for a microsecond, then started spinning again. I put the reel in gear, but only half way to strike, and I let the line come really tight. The fish was swimming pretty fast, but I really don't know if it realized it was hooked. Then I slowly pushed the drag up to strike, as smoothly as I could---no jerk there---and lifted the rod tip. I figured either it's coming off now, or chances are I've got him well hooked at this point.
The fish didn't come off. Rodless, Choose Your Weapon... We're all obsessed with our gear. We ask each other what we like and don't like, what we prefer for one purpose and what we prefer for another.
We discuss endlessly how to rig, how to bait, how to fish...all of it.
Well, I already told you the rig I was fishing: Daiwa Saltist 40 Lever Drag 2-speed (the blue one), with the drag set at 15lbs at strike, a hair over 18lbs at full (there's not that much more on a Saltist once you go past strike...I may need to look into that).
The reel was spooled with Jerry Brown Line One Solid, 350+ yards of 65lb white.
No mono at all.
The rod is an OC Rod I got from Toeknee, who posts on this board. It is a 7HF (I think I have the model number correct), a seven foot long black stick with some pretty good lifting power and a flexible tip. The reel seat and guides are first rate, and the construction of the rod is top notch. The rod is rated 30-60lbs, Toeknee maintains that it's a solid 50lb rod, and for a lot of people it might be. I pull pretty hard, though, and I get my substantial backside into it when I do, so it feels more like a 40lb rod to me. That's why I chose it to fish 40. I wasn't disappointed!
I was rigged with about 25 feet of 40lb Blackwater Shock Leader Fluoro. I have realized since that fight that I didn't need that much fluoro...10 feet is plenty, and is just 15 feet less for the sardine to drag behind it. But in this instance, I had chosen to put 25 feet on, and that's what I had.
I connected my spectra to my fluoro with a Tony Pena knot.
Those who were on the trip probably saw me tie it a few times. I think it is the best knot for the purpose (if you have solid spectra...hollow is a completely different animal), and I was very pleased to see that the crew on Intrepid tend to agree. Jesus and Romo are certainly Pena converts! In any case, I had absolute confidence in that connection. My hook was a 1/0 Owner Gorilla. That's right, 1/0. To be honest, that hook might have been one size too small for fish of this caliber, but 2/0 would do you fine, and 3/0 was more than big enough.
I have had discussions with some people---notably Mike Lackey and Fishybuzz---about Owner hooks. The circle hooks are excellent, but some anglers (those two in particular) have a bias against Owner's J-hook models. They don't like the "cutting edge," they feel it makes too big a hole in the fish's mouth, and you risk having the fish throw the hook in the course of a long fight. That hasn't been true for me, but I haven't done anywhere near the amount of fishing these guys have. I don't dismiss their opinions, and will always look to see if there is a better option. Having said that, I like Owner hooks, circle and J, and I have a bunch of them in my tackle bag. They have never failed me, and I have never seen a compelling reason not to use them. I was looking for a J-hook, I wanted it small to be stealthy, but I wanted it sturdy to not bend. As I recall, Miles was fishing Flyliner hooks, and he straightened two in a row, on two good fish. He was pretty unhappy about it, as would I have been. So, given what I wanted, I had a choice of Gorillas or Offshores, and the smallest ones I had were 1/0 Gorillas...so that's what I chose. Again, in this case I was not disappointed.
ASIDE: Many here will probably remember me singing the praises of circle hooks in general, and Owner Mutus and Super Mutus in particular. I've caught lots of tuna using circle hooks, along with pretty much all other species, and I like them a lot. So why was I using a J-hook? Because I it's much, MUCH easier to butt hook a sardine with a J-hook. I am already pretty good at nose hooking baits with circle hooks, but I had a heck of a time trying to butt hook the baits with them. I tried a lot, too. Then I tied on a J-hook, and suddenly it was much easier. 'Nuff said. In any case, I used an Erwin knot to connect the hook to the fluoro. It is the best knot I know, and virtually the only knot I use. Again, it has never failed me, not even once...though (again) I don't fish as much as many of the people who post here. I was wearing a fighting belt and expected to use it. That was how I was armed when I set the drag and started the fight.
I had been on for all of 10 seconds, and already I realized that this was a bigger tuna than any I had ever fought before... Sometimes I Have To Learn The Hard Way...
I have had a certain conversation with harddrive many times. He says that I'm stubborn, and refuse to learn something until it bites me in the hindquarters. I respond that I am analytical, not stubborn. If someone tells me something new and it makes sense, I don't need a lot of convincing. If, in my own subjective analysis, whatever they tell me doesn't make sense, I tend to follow my own counsel. Does that qualify as stubborn? Maybe so... This whole trip was a learning experience for me. Some of the lessons came easily and painlessly...others were carved into my hide in agonizing fashion. Either way, the lessons I learned I won't soon forget! In that vein, and in retrospect, there are some things that I did during this fight that I think I did correctly and well. Other things were very definitely errors in judgment, though in some cases I couldn't have known until the error smacked me in the face.
So... Things I Did Right:
1. When the fish hit, I had a rig in my hands in which I had total confidence, especially the reel and the knots.
2. I got the reel in gear quickly, setting the hook in the corner of the fish's mouth.
3. I put just as much pressure on the fish as I could all the way through, and I made sure I gained line whenever I could, especially early in the fight.
4. I took advantage of the few opportunities I had to make the fish fight while resting myself.
5. I had the fantastic wisdom to choose to fish on Intrepid. You'll see what I mean about that in a while.
Things I Did Wrong:
1. I did not go into the fight prepared to fish the rail. I'd never done it, never even tried, and didn't know how. A big tuna on light line is not the ideal learning opportunity.
2. The rod I was using was not constructed as a rail rod. That turned out to be a bigger mistake than I could have possibly imagined beforehand.
3. My rod belt has a gimbal pin, but I took it out before the trip and never put it back. The rod has gimbal grooves too, but I fished the entire fight with the rubber gimbal cover squeaking loudly inside the plastic cup of my rod belt.
4. I wasn't in as good shape as I wanted to be for the trip.
5. I was using a 40lb outfit, in a fight that was better suited for 60lb gear. That is the only mistake that, given the same circumstances all over again, I would repeat. I would have cut off my left arm for a bite at that point...dropping down to 40lbs doesn't seem like too much of a price to pay... Game On!
The first part of the fight was easy, so much so that I might have gotten a little overconfident, at least the way things turned out. I was on the stern with the fish pretty much straight back. It cut a little to starboard at first, and took me a couple of steps towards the other corner, but then it reversed direction, and headed back towards the Port corner again...where everybody and their mother-in-law to be (yes Jan, I am talking about you) was fishing.
There were maybe five or six anglers there flylining, and two people hooked up, all in a very small space.
I thought to myself "Oh-oh!" I had an advantage, though.
I had been gaining line steadily ever since the hook up. I was lifting up and winding down, which is how I learned how to fish. I had the butt of my rod in my rod belt, and the tip of my rod pretty high...I wasn't pinned to the rail. If I had been, that would have caused problems then. Instead, I was able to step back, and fish from behind the crowd. I've done that before, but never on such a powerful fish. It was fun and exciting, and my heart was beating a mile a minute. I actually fished there for a minute or two...it seemed much longer!...and I was able to keep pressure on the fish and gain some line.
I had no illusions that this would be a short fight, of course, but I felt like I was in control, given the mess that was taking shape in front of me. To make the point, there was a tangle going on, and three deckies trying to maintain order and save hooked fish. I kept pulling, though, and soon enough my fish decided to make a move up the Port rail. At first it was a subtle move, because the fish was still pretty far out. I kept gaining, though, and as a result put more pressure on the fish. I could tell when it really felt the strain, because it took off like a bat out of Hell, heading out and up towards the bow.
The sound of my reel surrendering drag was noticeable, and led to the briefest of conversations between Kevin (who was working the deck) and Colin.
Kevin: Colin...
Colin: I've got him.
And he did. I don't know exactly what that was about, by the way. I had caught a couple of fish, and had given a demonstration that I had some idea of what I was doing. Nevertheless, I was obviously on a good fish, and I don't think Kevin wanted me to lose it for lack of assistance. So he assigned Colin to babysit me, never guessing how long that job might take. I will tell you right now that I was very glad to have the company. Colin didn't have to do much for most of that fight, but he was definitely my security blanket, and he both kept me laughing and focused at the same time. He gave me instruction when I needed it, especially to move up or down the rail a half a second before I was going to do so. I can laugh about that now, but the truth is he had a good sense of which way the fish was going most of the time, even before I did. The thing is, I was doing a good job of keeping the fish straight out from me, and I would follow the fish as it moved, but Colin knew before the fish did which way it would go.
He had me a step ahead each time, and that helped me gain line too. For what my opinion is worth, he's already a fine deckhand. And the boy is huge Not quite the size of Cameron his brother, but that immense presence and soft, deep voice were very reassuring. I do not in any way underestimate the value of having Colin there with me.
So we moved up the rail towards the bow, with the fish headed well off to port, for all the world as if it wanted to reach the rocks standing out there in the distance. Now all the line I gained at the beginning really played in my favor, because the fish made the first of what would be many runs, pulling drag quickly and steadily and headed for the horizon.
I am pretty sure if the fish had been 175 yards out when that run started, it would have spooled me. But I had already gained some 80 yards before the run, and leaning into the rod and pulling, I stopped it out at about 300 yards, I guess.
When the fish stopped, I went ahead and pushed the drag to full.
Way early, I know, but I had a sense that if I didn't make the fish work hard for every foot, I would regret it. I also did something I have never done before in a fight: I went to low gear. Here's the thing, I've never fished two-speed reels before, not like this. I've caught fish using a two-speed, but I never once had to drop into low gear to do it. But I was in a tug-of-war...the fish pulling an inch of drag every few seconds, and me absolutely unable to make any cranks when it eased up...it was just pulling too hard.
And then, as clear as day, I remembered a conversation I'd had with harddrive some three or four weeks before the trip. It was actually a IM conversation of all things:
Me: So, I've never actually used a two-speed reel...when do I put it in low gear? harddrive: Whenever you can't turn the handle in high gear!
It was as simple as that. No sooner did I remember that conversation than I also remembered I was fishing with a two-speed reel. I pressed the button, and I started gaining line. Just like that. Of course I wasn't gaining much line with each crank, but I was able to turn the handle some 20-30 times, and in the process, "horsing" the fish towards the boat. If I thought the previous scenario was tug of war, this was far beyond that. The fish was coming, and it really didn't want to. It pulled and pulled, but in low gear the reel wouldn't give up much line at all, and every time I was dragging it closer and closer. I bet that, in all, I probably gained 40 yards that way, but it was 40 yards the fish didn't want to surrender, so it decided to change the game plan for a moment...and scared the life out of me in the process!
The fish turned towards the boat, and came fast, at least until it lost the sense of pressure. I was winding for all I was worth, but I couldn't feel the fish.
I said to Colin "Oh NO! I think he broke off!"
Colin asked me if I was sure, but I kept winding in slack line.
Then I had another "Doh!" moment: I was still in low gear!
I still thought I had lost the fish, but I clicked the lever to put it back in high and get the line back in...and suddenly the line came tight...then tighter...then tighter still. Wow, you can NOT imagine my relief!
Plus, I had gained some 50-60 more yards of line.
That gave me the energy to pull even harder, and bring the fish even closer.
Back down the rail towards the stern...half way there and the fish goes the other way. Now Colin really earned his keep, warning me as I was coming to the piled up anchor line and helping me step on it without falling. I did turn my ankle ever so slightly on that rope later in the fight, but it never toppled me.
Thank you Colin!
It was then that I told him I was worried about the anchor line...that I had lost a good fish earlier in the trip by getting wrapped. Colin replied that I had nothing to worry about. The anchor was almost straight up and down, and my fish was way out off the Port rail, still maybe some 150 yards out. Back into low gear, dragging the fish closer and closer, until it turned towards the boat again. Again I was stuck in low gear, and again the line went slack, but this time I realized what was going on, and put it back in high right away. Yup, still on. Feeling cocky, I turned to Colin and said "Look at that! I love it when I get free line!" Then, of course, the fish took off on another long run away from the boat, and even in low gear (again) it took maybe 100 yards, leaving me more or less where I'd been before.
"Damn," I thought, "this is a mean fish!"
So when it ran, I started putting my thumb on the line against the fore grip, adding "cook's drag." I was lucky that the line never cut me badly when I did that, though I did wear a groove in my thumb by the end of the fight. But the extra couple of pounds of drag seemed to do the trick.
The runs the fish made were shorter, and the turns towards the boat became more frequent. I remain convinced that the only reason I didn't lose the fish in that phase of the fight was because of the line I was able to gain at the beginning. The fish did eventually take me down to what must have been my last 50 yards or so of spectra, but in sudden terror gave me the strength to grind it back...back...almost all the way back inside 100 yards.
By then, I had been pulling on that fish for more than 45 minutes.
It could have been longer for all I know, but at least that long...and now I was getting tired.
You all should have been expecting that, of course. I was fighting with main strength, and my strength was less than it should have been.
I had been sick for days, and I hadn't eaten much. Plus, I'd been pulling with my arms and my back, fighting what was obviously a pretty big fish in low gear.
I'm guessing that if I had had a harness, I would have been in much better shape, but my mobility would have been lost, and as things worked out, using a harness would have meant losing the fish. Period. No, the thing I really needed to do was use the rail...but I didn't know how.
One very lucky thing happened then, though: the fish moved back up to the bow, taking me up onto the rope again (this is when I turned my ankle, as if I needed that at this point), but also putting me right in front of the anchor stanchion.
OK, I don't know if that's really the right word for it. What I'm talking about is that cylindrical post that rises out of the deck in the bow, about four feet from the Port rail. When the crew pulls the anchor and stows the line for traveling, the line goes down into its hold through a hole near the top of that post. I call it a stanchion. Anyway, the fish was making another run against low gear, and the stanchion was right behind me, so I leaned back and rested my wide derriere right against the post. I spread my legs for balance, and let the fish pull against my weight, rather than my arms. I kept winding down when I could of course, but I probably didn't gain quite as much line that way as I would have earlier in the fight. It didn't matter, though.
Resting against the stanchion allowed me to slowly pull the fish a lot closer, while at the same time catching my breath. If I hadn't done that, I am sure beyond sure I would have run out of gas and lost the fish.
Of course, the fish eventually pulled the same stunt, running towards the boat, but I was ready. I had caught my second wind, and with more agility than I expected to have, I bounced off the stanchion, popped the reel into high gear, and caught up with the running fish in a moment. Now it took me back towards the stern, steadily, not fast or slow, all the way to the Port corner again. Then, after a brief moment, all the way across the stern to the Starboard corner, then almost immediately, back to the Port corner, and then back up the Port rail about half way.
At that moment, I decided that I had to find a way to use the rail, or I was going to lose the fight...so I sat on the rod butt. Really. I just pushed it down between my legs (off to one side, of course!), and sat on that puppy.
For as long as the fish was pulling and not running, that worked really well too. I was able to make cranks in low gear, and use my fat butt to fight the fish. Of course, the fish didn't stay where it was...it moved back up the rail a bit, and I sat on the rod again.
Another couple of minutes, and it went back all the way up to the bow, and I got to sit against the stanchion again.
Damn, but that fish was full of fight! Now the fight changed though. The fish was much closer to the boat...I know I was inside of 100 yards, probably closer to 80, and I was winning...if I could just last long enough.
Kevin Amazes And Impresses Me...AGAIN
The fish didn't stay up by the bow too long this time. Another five minutes I guess, and then it took me down the rail to the Port corner once more. It didn't go directly there, of course.
We stopped a couple of times along the way, but the fish didn't stay in one place pulling long enough for me to sit on the rod again. I tried twice, and as soon as I did, the fish moved.
So I started trying to use the rail in the classic way (see previous picture of Silent Jim and Wahoodad).
I tucked the rod butt under my right arm pit, palmed the reel with my left hand, and made cranks when I had room to do so.
I am telling you now, I need a lot of practice with this technique!
Frankly, I stink at it!
Even so, I was gaining, and this was working better for me too. The fish was deep now, so the rail made the perfect fulcrum. My timing on cranking was terrible, and even though I was trying to palm the reel, the rod kept turning on the rail. I spent as much effort---or more!---just trying to keep the reel in the correct position, and much of the time I could barely make any cranks.
Of course, like an idiot, I had the reel in high gear throughout this part. Only as I got near to the corner did remember to put it in low gear again.
When I did, I discovered that was a mixed blessing. It was definitely easier to turn the handle, but harder to hold the reel in the proper attitude.
Trust me when I tell you, I was struggling, even as I pulled the fish closer.
Right as I arrived at the Port corner someone called "deep color" on my fish, but I never saw that.
It started to circle, though, even though it was pretty deep.
At first Jesus came up, and he tried to help me with my rail technique to no avail.
Then from across the stern came Frank. He was on a fish, and he had it much closer to the surface. Kevin was with him.
Frank got right to the corner, and made his stand...right next to me!
Both of the fish were circling clockwise, and in one instant they had wrapped.
"Oh NO!" I thought, but Jesus grabbed Frank's rod, and Kevin grabbed mine, while we both stepped back a second to breathe.
Quickly Kevin discovered the direction of the wrap and undid it.
Then I saw the most amazing fish dance ever:
Frank took his rod back an continued his fight with Jesus' help as the two fish circled. Every time Frank's fish wrapped my line, Kevin ducked under and immediately unwrapped it again.
Over and over, as the fish circled. As Frank tried to finish that fight, Kevin kept dancing around the wrap, ducking under Frank's line with my rod.
Finally Frank's fish was so close to the surface that the fish didn't wrap each other.
Kevin handed me my rod, and immediately my fish took off across the stern.
I was closer now. Maybe not deep color, but very close to that.
Once again, Colin was my babysitter as I fought the fish in the Starboard corner, when down the Starboard rail comes Ken The Bushman on a fish. His was a relatively fresh one though, and far out.
We crossed with any trouble.
As my fish started up the Starboard rail, Kevin called out to Colin: "go up to the galley door, and make your stand there!"
Colin just said "OK," as we worked our way up the rail.
For those who haven't been on Intrepid, there's a door on the Starboard side, just a hair forward of midship, that leads directly into the galley from outside. It's purpose is to make it easier to bring supplies into the galley, and trash out. It's a good spot for a door, obviously, and makes a good landmark too. It is also just a bit forward of Intrepid's stabilizers, which can apparently cut off a circling fish if things go perfectly wrong.
So there we were, and as I understood it, I needed to really try to finish that fish then and there. I did pretty well at first.
I had the fish first at deep color, and then pretty much at close color, but then it tried very hard to go under the boat, managing to rub the line against the hull.
I was terrified, and pulled with all I had left, and out the fish came, but it was done circling for the moment.
It took off pulling drag back to the stern, and then all the way across the that damned Port corner again.
I did a good job following the fish and saved a lot of line, but now the fish was 100 feet down again... And I was whipped.
An hour and a half, probably more, and suddenly I didn't think I was going to make it.
I tried to use the rail, but the reel was slipping in my hand, and I couldn't make any headway. I was puffing like a steam engine, fighting for all I was worth, but the rail wasn't doing me any good. The rod wasn't built for it---I had bare pole against the rail---and I just didn't have the technique.
So with all I had left, I put the butt back in my rod belt, and started the lift up, wind down, short strokes, willing the fish to come up at last.
Thank You Jesus...And Everyone Else!!!! I got the fish halfway up, and it just wouldn't come any closer.
I would lift up, but all I did was pull line off the reel, even with my thumb in the line against the fore grip.
I would crank that line right back in, but the fish was just not moving.
I have never felt that helpless on a fish before.
Jesus took my rod for me for a second, and showed me how to use the rail and the rocking of the boat. He made like two cranks, but enough for me to see how it was supposed to go. I took the rod back, and made another 30-40 feet.
Man. at that point the fish was PISSED.
I should say that one thing I've heard about fishing straight fluoro is definitely true...you feel the head shakes down to your toes. I had been feeling the fish's anger and frustration all through the fight, and it was an amazing feeling. I never felt head shakes like that before! But now it was far more intense.
The fish was jerking its head in absolute fury. I was 50, maybe 60 feet from a gaff, and I swear I felt I was tethered to a tornado.
It was amazing, but also exhausting. Now the fish crossed the stern once more.
I didn't let it take any line that time, but now we were all by ourselves in the Starboard corner...and I was beat.
I said to Jesus :
"just hold the rod for a second, OK? I need to breathe!"
He took the rod, and asked me "Are you in the jackpot?"
"No," I told him, "I'm not."
"The fish is about 50 feet down...is it OK if I get you some line?" he asked me then. "Go for it!" I told him.
Jesus made about ten cranks then---in low gear---and that's all. Now the fish was circling in everyone;s vision, and we saw that I had a ball, gnarly ball of tangled spectra on my line, but it was loose and not interfering. Colin and Romo were standing by with gaffs...all I needed was to gain another 10 feet, and I would have the fish.
Jesus handed me the rod, and then something weird happened...
The fish took it's circle wide, trying to go up the Starboard rail one more time, and that brought it right to the surface, right next to the boat.
I don't know if either Colin or Romo thought that might happen, but they were ready!
Romo got a gaff in the back towards the tail, and a moment later, Colin got one in the collar.
Then they tried to pull the fish over the rail. Let me tell you, they were struggling! It took three tries, but the fish finally slid defiantly over the rail, and flopped on the deck.
Someone told me later that Jesus had finished the fish for me.
In a way that's true...we were both holding the rod when the fish was gaffed, though I was the one holding it when the fish hit the deck. More importantly, it was Jesus who made the last crucial 25 feet.
If I had been in the jackpot, the fish wouldn't have counted, and I'm OK with that. On the other hand, I fought that fish for well over an hour and a half, the old fashioned way, and I brought it to the boat...four times...all by myself.
Did Colin help me all the way? Yes he did.
Did Kevin save me from being wrapped and cut off? Oh he definitely did!
When I ran out of steam, with 50 feet left to fight, did Jesus help me out? Damned straight he did!
If that makes you all think I didn't catch the fish, you're welcome to think and say so.
As for me, I consider that I caught that fish, and I count it as my personal best ever tuna. I will say this, when my fish came over the rail, I heard a couple of soft "Whoas" from the people watching. I don't think they thought my fish was that big until it came over.
During the fight, some people had given me some good-natured ribbing (Drop your purse and PULL Rodless!)
There wasn't any more of that after the fish hit the deck. I Don't Mind Looking Ridiculous!
The aftermath of a big fish like that is predictable in a way, though it was my first ever over 100lbs (122.5 at the scales, after four days in the RSW). Kevin took a couple of photos, and a lot of people congratulated me.
Fishybuzz (who had promised me a chance at my personal best on this trip) was giving me the old "I Told You So!!!!)
Brad and JWFogg had kind words too.
Even Wahoodad came over to tell me "nice fish."
Willy said the same later.
Kona Mike suggested that I keep the hook as a souvenir (I did),
and Kevin asked me if I wanted it to have the RSW treatment (of course!).
People started speculating then how big the fish really was. Estimates were conservative, of course, but the consensus was between 105 and 112. I was also told that a couple of the other fish that had come over the rail were probably bigger.
I didn't care even a little bit! I was ecstatic with that fish, and I was pretty sure it would go over 100lbs.
That was more than good enough for me... Romo was going to gut the fish then, but I asked him to let me get a couple more photos first, this time with the fish lying on its belly.
Colin helped me try to pose the fish, and it was a struggle on the slippery deck, but we finally got it how we wanted it.
Brad_G was going to do the honors, first with his camera, and then with mine. I knelt behind the fish, holding the dorsal fin the way Colin showed me I should, and Brad took a couple of photos. Then I tried to get my camera out of my pocket, and I couldn't...not kneeling like that.
So I tried to stand up, and just as I did, the boat rocked, I lost my balance... ...and fell on my butt in front of the whole boat.
I started laughing as much as anyone, and I tried to stand up again.
The boat rocked again, I felt dizzy, and...yep. I fell over on my butt a second time, this time all the way onto my back, too.
Suddenly the rocking of the boat was more like spinning, and I decided to stay right where I was a for a minute.
Lying on my back, I told Brad "never mind with my camera!" To which he replied "I'll email them to you!" I told Romo to go ahead and prep the fish for the RSW...no more photos for me! Then I went and sat down and drank some water...like three glasses full.
Of course, after that I had to run to the head again, but after another 20 minutes or so, I felt better.
I thought I could fish then, but then I thought better of it. I would wait another half an hour, drink some more water, and if we were still fishing, I would soak a bait.
Of course, right about when I was ready to think about fishing again, Kevin pulled in the anglers.
It was time to head out and leave the Rocks behind.
It is a magical place, Alijos.
First it threatened to break my spirit, then it totally kicked my ever-loving butt. But in the end, I got my wish too. Lets be honest...could a hard story end any better than that?
Next: Part VIII: We Have Places To Go And Fish To Catch...
Photos: 1. Rodless has an OC Rod too...
2. ...and he thinks he knows how to use it!
3. My best ever tuna, at the gaff
4. The boat took this photo...dashing angler, don't you think?
5. Yes, an moment later I was sitting on my behind
Part VII Addendum: After Action Report
Now that I have some space between me and catching that fish, now that I have written it up, and in so doing forced myself to remember every detail, some last thoughts on my equipment, my fishing, and the Alijos Rocks.
Equipment: I was under gunned...but it was my own fault!
When I was recovering from that fight, and on into the next day, one thought that kept going through my head was that I had nearly been burned because I had, in a sense, brought a knife to a gun fight. In a way, that's true too. The rig I was using was only barely up to the task of catching that fish. But that wasn't the rig's fault, and for two reasons:
1. It was a 120lb fish, and I was using a 40lb rig. People have written here many times before that this is something that can be done, and now I have evidence to prove it. But come on...how much drag do you really want to put on your 40lb rig? 20lbs at the most? A fish that big and that angry, 19-20lbs of drag still equals a long fight, and a long fight means that a lot of things can go wrong. The truth is, it says an awful lot about my gear and my knots that nothing did go wrong. I may have brought a knife to a gun fight, but in the end, it turned out to be a damned fine knife!
2. How well any rig works is more about how the angler uses that gear than the gear itself. The most accurate expression of how I fought that fish has to be "operator error." All I really had going for me was a whole raft of stubborn determination...and the worst technique imaginable. I'm going to learn how to fish the rail properly for my next trip. When I do, I know that very same setup will be all I need to whip a fish of the same size in half the time.
In the final analysis, the whole setup is really a 40lb rig. What I needed was a 50 or 60lb rig, set up to fish 40. Why? Because I really don't expect---most of the time!---to be catching fish larger than 80lbs on a 40lb setup. If I need to use 40 to catch a 120lb fish, I need a rig that is made to catch fish that big, even if I use lighter line on it.
I don't know if that makes sense to anyone else here, but it's clear to me.
Saltist Lever Drag reels...
I have no complaints, just a single, small quibble. The reel worked like a champ for me. The drag was strong and smooth and held up well the entire fight. It may be lightweight, but it fights fish like a much heavier reel.
Before I fish again, I want to make sure the drag washers are properly greased, because the reel really took (and stood up to!) some abuse. But I have no worries about that either. The one tiny little thing is that the drag ramps up steeply, and "strike" is pretty darned close to "full." I mentioned that in my description of the fight, I know, but it bears repeating. As we were heading out Sunday, I set the drag to 15lbs at strike. I then pushed it to full and only got about 18.2 lbs. The reel is supposed to have a wider range than that (17 at strike, 23 at full), but for fishing 40lb line, I didn't want strike to be heavier than 15. During the fight, though, I really wished I had 22lbs at strike!
Again, though, that is more a function of the fish than the reel. Even on an 80 or 90lb fish, that reel would have owned it. It put out a lot of drag, given that it was set up to fish 40lbs. It's just that catching a fish that size on 40lb line is pushing that reel to its limit...pushing the inside of the envelope, if you will.
Again, it says a lot about the reel that I did catch the fish, had no failures of any kind, and the reel was in perfect shape at the end of the fight, even if I wasn't.
I'm Telling You, An OC Rod is a GOOD Rod!
Just like the Saltist reel, the rod I was using was up to the task and then some. There are two reasons why it was the wrong rod for that fight:
1. It is probably just a hair light for a fish of that size.
2. Mine is not wrapped as a rail rod.
But having said that, I am very, VERY happy with that rod. I believe that model is a fantastic 40lb rod. It's just that very few 40lb rods (again, like the reel) are honestly designed to catch 120lb tuna. Period.
There were a lot of Seeker enthusiasts on the boat, of course. I used one (borrowed from Fishybuzz) for the very first time, and I came away truly impressed. They are fantastically strong rods...so much so that a rod Fishy uses for 50lbs (the one he loaned me) could easily be used by other anglers to fish 60. So yes, the Super Seeker I used to fish 50lbs had more lifting power than the OC Rod I used to fish 40lbs.
I would have been astonished it that wasn't the case!
But you know what? That OC rod is a damned fine rod, and the best deal I can imagine for the money. It is light and strong and forgiving, and it performed like a champ. Remember, I had to drag that fish back in from about 300 yards out, kicking and screaming, if you will, four different times. I put one HELL of a lot of pressure on that rod---especially early in the fight while I was fresh---and it gave me all I could have asked for and more. Really! I'm keeping that rod, and I'm going to fish it...a lot. It is a fantastic 40lb rod for me, and I am going to use it at Guadalupe and at Cedros and offshore too. Anytime I want to fish 40lbs, and think think I might run into fish 40-80lbs, even up to 90 or 100lbs, I know I can count on that stick.
Shameless Plug: Tony Hale (Toeknee on the message boards) is the proprietor of OC rods, and a great guy. His rods are quality products from top to bottom, well-conceived, well-designed, and well constructed, using top of the line components and materials. For anyone who is in the same boat I was...lots of enthusiasm, no gear...OC Rods are a fantastic place to start, especially for fishing 50lbs and under. His prices are more than fair, and his rods will catch you fish. If you are like me, and you need to begin assembling an arsenal of rigs as you expand your fishing, you really can't do better than OC, especially in this economy.
Evidence? Hey, I used an OC rod to catch my biggest ever tuna. It was the wrong rod (a little too light, not configured to fish the rail), and I pushed it as hard as I possibly could. The rod did me proud, and that's good enough for me.
Yes, I will buy other makes of rods. I really liked the Super Seeker I got to use this trip, and I like Calstar Grafighters as well. But you know what? I will buy more OC rods too.
I Need More Gear!!!
The gear I have is good! I like it, and will continue to use it. To fish the Rocks the way I want to, though, I think I need a 60lb rig, and maybe one more 50lb rig. If I go longer, I will need more and heavier gear. More importantly, I need my heavier rods to be wrapped as rail rods.
Let me put it this way...
- 'Lupe is a step up in fighting class from offshore (and a wonderful place to fish...hope they open it soon!).
- Alijos is a step up in fighting class from 'Lupe.
Each time I have taken a step up, I have discovered that my gear needed to be better. Catching small albacore on an overnight boat (my first San Diego trip in 2001) really only needed 20lb line. Catching yellowtail and yellowfin on a 3-day trip (2003, 2004) called for 30lb line and a somewhat better caliber of rod.
Then I went to Guadalupe (2006). That was a different ballgame, even though I used 30lb gear. The good news is that the gear I used I borrowed from harddrive, and it was up to the task. By 2009, I started assembling my own gear (one paltry rig), but it was pretty stout, and served me well at Cedros. It turned out I was less well-prepared for the Rocks.
That's the truth of it too: I am well-prepared to fish offshore, or to go to 'Lupe, Benitos, or Cedros. I have what I need to catch fish up to about 90 or 100 lbs, and I am well-armed for the 50-70lb class. What I need now is gear that is designed to fish lighter line (40, 50, 60lbs) for bigger fish. I don't have those setups yet, but I hope to add at least some of that for next year (assuming I get to fish next year!).
The Rail Is My Friend!
More than anything else, much more important than any of the other items on this list, I must learn to fish the rail effectively and well. There's just no other way. I plan to return to Alijos, and more than once. When I do, sooner or later I will find myself in the same position again, too big a fish on too light a rig. Or even any big fish on pretty much any rig. I no longer have the physical strength to manhandle a fish of that size to the boat. Well, I showed that I can get it to the boat, but I didn't have enough left to bring it to gaff. Knowing how to fish the rail changes everything.
Next: On To Part VIII!
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