Dream Report!

[HOLWACHAGOT]

A little story for you guys...
The stranger on the dock was full speed ahead blabbering about how he used to commercial fish for this and that. He was obviously full of stuffing like a Christmas turkey. Questions like "what’s dat hook stick fo?" made this quite clear. I was in no mood to listen to this clown as I was trying to concentrate on my gear. His eyes widened when I pulled the Browning out of its scabbard. I was just making triple sure it was unloaded before I lashed it up under the port side gunwale. My sour mood was lightened by his silence now. Silence soon interrupted with more questions. "What’s dat rubba suit fo? Why’s dem gas cans strapped across the back a boat? Sumfin wrong wit cha tank?" I responded, "Something’s wrong with my brain, tanks fine, just not big enough for where I’m going." He asked me where in the world I could possibly be going in that little boat to need all that gas. East, a long ways East.
My sour mood early on was the result of a cancellation by my fishing partner. A trip I had been planning for months, waiting on the right weather window, had nearly been cancelled four hours before departure time. He changed his mind and was courteous enough to leave me a voice mail from the concert the night before anticipating a hangover. He wanted to know if we could leave a little later. HAH! I was floored. This was no ordinary trip. It really would be unsafe to run for the canyons and stay overnight solo. It was crazy enough from an 18’ center console with help. I was determined to go anyway. I convinced myself 40 gallons of gas would be weight I wouldn’t have to haul back and would allow me to hunt longer. I would need it.
There I was at the dock. My sour mood was replaced by a tingling feeling in the stomach. So much can go wrong, so many things can happen, the combination of excitement, anticipation, fear of the unknown, creates a funny feeling in ones stomach. One I suspect many never feel. Many are not stupid enough to even consider a small boat run to the canyons. My entire life I have fantasized about big fish and small boats. I have revised my materials list a thousand times. Certain items are brought just to help comfort myself enough to take the leap. Life raft, Epirb, wetsuit, first aid kit, flares, shotgun, flying gaff, fixed gaff, huge cooler packed with ice, 15 gallons fresh water. The boat is riding a little heavy, but I can ditch the ice and cans if need be. The ventless cans are a pain when pouring into the tank but they will not leak in the boat and they will float if tossed overboard. Going solo has added a new element of fear that I have decided to face. Sanity is not in question, I have clearly lost my mind.
I waved goodbye to the bum on the dock and putted down the creek and out the inlet. I constantly questioned what I was doing but drove on, scared shitless. Picked up the pace at the end of the jetty and brought her to a slow cruise. The weather radio was still calling the dreaded light and variable, and it was still oil slick calm and I felt a little better. The tingling feeling escalated as the hotel lights disappeared behind me. False dawn is starting to show itself to the East. 20 miles into the trip found fear replaced by sheer elation. I was excited beyond belief. There is no feeling like being on the ocean alone. Grey light was being replaced with a little color and I was making steady progress on a slick calm ocean. I was approaching an inshore spot called the Hot Dog and the water was beginning to come to life. Huge schools of sand eels were surfacing all around and I decided it was time to start trolling. Instead of cruising at twenty knots I brought the boat down to 9 knots and put out the plastic. Zucchini Machine down the middle, Cedar plug chain on the left flat and a purple zuker feather on the right side a little further back than the chain. The zucchini machine was a good ways back. Two minutes and the long one bent over, nothing serious but taking drag a little. The fish ended up being a bluefish about fifteen pounds. While fighting the bluefish I ended up hooking up with the other rods. The bluefish were dealt with and my trolling speed was increased to 14 knots so I can cover some ground and maybe keep the blues off.
The faster speed kept the bluefish away and about an hour later I was beginning to wonder if fish really could be caught at these speeds. I debated pulling the lines out and running the fifteen miles I had left. No sooner than I had decided to do so and stopped the boat to crank in the lines KABLOOM! The purple feather was replaced with whitewater and a whirlpool. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ… KABLOOM! Cedar chain also crushed. The strike on the Cedar chain was immediately followed by a loud thump and a sound similar to the report of a 308 rifle. When the second fish hit the chain it was coming from behind the boat. The momentum brought the chain across the transom and when this happened the cedar plug in front of the hooked one wedged itself between the swim platform and the boat immediately snapping the line. This was a blessing I would soon realize because the first fish was still sizzling towards the horizon. I started cranking the long rod in and turned the boat towards the hooked fish. Setting the rod in the holder on the console and chasing the fish was my only option. About the time line stopped leaving the reel I pulled back the throttles and started cranking like mad. The line had changed angles and had a big bag in it. The fish was coming straight back at me…Fast. When things came completely tight again the reel was still low, and I was not ready for the tighter drag caused by little line on the spool. The rod was snatched from my hand. The trajectory carried the rod and reel out of the boat outside of another rod in the gunwale holder. The rod and reel was hanging in the water and the line was wrapped over the other rod in the gunwale holder, then on out to the torpedo on the end of the line. Somehow I got my hands on the rod before everything came unglued. The line running across the other rod heated up quick and the line parted. My fish was gone. At least the rod was saved. These fish caught me so off guard it was ridiculous. I made it a priority to get the gas cans out of the way as soon as the tank was down enough. Back out went the spread and back towards my original heading I proceeded at the same speed. I had not marked any bait before the last explosions which happened in what I always considered a dead area. Little topography and only 30 fathoms or so deep. I continued and after two or three circles over the mark. Nothing…Pulled back the throttles…nothing…continued on at 14 knots with the plastics skipping and smoking along. No more takers though. I will always wonder if they were Bluefin or Bigeyes. I’ll never know.
One thing I did know was that despite losing two fish, the ocean was slick like glass. The weather predictions were still calling for light and slight through evening and into the next day. I would troll all day and decide around 6 if I was brave enough to ride the night out alone. Feeling good about things and getting very close to the Canyon tip, I slowed the boat to neutral and half expected a bite this time…it did not come. The three lines were cleared without a hitch and rigged with naked split-bills. Two additional rods were set up with bird chains followed by Islander/horse hoo combo. The heat was quicker to come than another bite. I refused to wish for a breeze. I would be fine with the dead calm conditions as long as I was out here alone. It was close to noon when I saw the birds. The water was 600 fathoms and crystal clear. There were about fifteen of the little black ones I call marlin birds. They were clustered up and picking at the water. I trolled by them and circled when I heard the splash. Behind the port bird chain was a zig zagging broomstick. To say he was smacking at the islander would be an understatement. He was molesting the thing when I dumped it down his throat. I waited a second and slid the lever up and the line came tight. At the same time the split bill rod closest to it started singing too. Then she jumped. It was then I realized the Marlin had two baits in his mouth and even the combination of two rods was not slowing him down. The fish was no grander but every bit of 600 #. The friggin luck of two hooks getting one fish that usually doesn’t get hooked at all. The second rod was no advantage. It created a mess. As I scrambled to clear the third line luckily it came lose. I quickly cleared it as well and proceeded with my fight. It felt like a dream when the big Blue Marlin sailed from the sea. He commenced to tail walking all over the ocean. I felt like Hemmingway’s Old Man with a few added benefits. Outboard motor and two-speed reels were the first differences to come to mind. The fish kept between 500-600 yards of my line most of the next two hours. I would gain a little at a time for a long time. Then he would rip it back out in about ten seconds. The power of these fish is absolutely amazing. It was as if I was being taunted. Three hours into the fight I realized the fish was in control. Boat maneuvering and fighting the fish at the same time is a chore not for the weak willed. I think pure stubbornness kept me at the task. I refused to quit. Simple things like getting a drink of water would cost me a 100 yards of line minimum. The ocean was still as I have ever seen. God set the stage for me to stand a chance against this beast. Any chop most likely would have kept me from chasing the fish so aggressively. I would have been spooled had there been any seas at all. Five hours into the fight found the rod in the holder and every muscle in my body burning and cramping. I huddled between the console and gunwale turning the crank with one hand and steering with the other. The Marlin was tiring as well. I feared she would be too tired to survive the fight. We were attracting visitors as well of the Hammerhead variety. I was finally getting very near the Marlin. My wind on leader was on the reel and the fish was about 30 yards away. Twenty yards till I can get my hands on the bird chain which is 400# mono. The hook bait is on 200# leader. I decided if I could get my hands on the bird chain I would just break off the 200 # leader and not even worry about the islander lure. That is exactly what I did. I was able to grab the bird chain and immediately I wrapped it around a cleat. POP. That is a release in my book. Almost a six hour fight solo. I was whipped and it was time to scramble west if I wasn’t going to stay the night. Decisions, decisions…
I decided the first thing I had to do was pour the gas from the cans into the main tank. The ventless cans were taking forever to pour, but finally I had 40 gallons more back in the main tank. This brought me back to very near full. I lashed two clusters of four cans together with cable ties and tied them to the bow rail outside the boat. I was tidying up the boat when I noticed some small baitfish scurrying around under the boat. They were literally bouncing into the boat nervously. I have never seen these little fishes before but they were beginning to accumulate. I felt like a piece of floatsam.
I dug around the tackle bag to find my sabiki rigs. The smallest one went on a piece of string with no weight. I tossed it over and twitched it a couple of times by hand. They fought over it and all six hooks brought candy to the well. They pulled pretty hard on the hand line. I was able to catch them fast and furious until the trigger fish showed up. Son of a gun come swimming in like he owned the place. Swam right up to the boat and stared at me. He would not eat a minnow though. I tossed that sabiki over by him and he almost jerked my hand off breaking the lead line from the hook he was stung by. Then he swam back over and looked at me again with that little piece of string sticking out is lips. MF’er. I took out my small gaff and stuck his little ass like a heron picks a mud minnow. I sat back and laughed out loud. This was the first meatfish I had caught all day. It was nearing 7:00pm and I was astonished at how full of ice the cooler still was. That was the first time all day I had opened the fish box and the trigger barely fit on top the ice still. The live well was full of bait minnows, at least 80 of them. The serene calm was weird. The sun was low in the sky. Not often have I watched it set from the deep. I decided to troll the last hour of daylight to try for a yellowfin or two and also make way back to where I would drift.
Two rods were set in the long position with Squidwitch over medium ballyhoo and two split bills were set to swim 3’ off the transom. That’s right, I set them three feet back before the turbulence started and they were swimming sweet in the clear water. I was trying to decide if a teaser should go out when I saw splashes about a mile away. I threw the binoculars up and could see tunas airing out like bait raining. I flipped the flat lines over into the boat, never unclipped the clips. Then I cranked in the other two to the rod tips and motored over within 200 yards of the jumping tunas. In one motion I flipped the two flat line baits over and reached for the lever to drop the third bait back into the long position. Before the bait was where I wanted it…While my thumb was on the spool…the first strike came and the largest backlash ever formed in the blink of an eye. the line broke immediately. I cursed myself audibly. These were the first words I have spoken in 17 hours. I crossed the boat, dumped the other squidwitch with a little more awareness. The lever was in strike position two seconds and the clip popped…I freespooled it…jerked it once… jerk it again… BAM! I circled down and put a lot of pressure on the fish. Short work was made of the tuna. To my delight it was not a yellowfin but a longfin instead. The fish would go 60 pounds easy. I put the boat back to trolling speed and let the two naked flatlines back about 50 feet until I could re-bait the squidwitch. The tuna still lay on deck and blood was flowing nicely out of his slit throat. Halfway through rigging the bait both nakeds went off screaming. I calmly finished wrapping the monel and turned towards the fish. I fought the rod with the most line on it first taking no precaution going after the fish. I fought him at very tight drag setting very aggressively. The gaff was sunk in the fish within ten minutes. I cut his throat latch, tossed him to the bow, and commenced to killing number three. The third fish was bigger and apparently did not like me tightening the drag more and pulling back. This caused another run which surprised me. I eventually got him the better of him as well.
Watching the sunset, three Allison tunas on the deck, the ocean was still calm, I have felt no better feeling at this point in my life. Despite the fumbles through the day I have released a blue marlin and boated three longfins. The live well is full and tuna were airing around me as it grew dark. I was unsure I had enough energy to fight another fish. The fear of where I was in this little boat with nine hours of darkness ahead was curbed by the day’s events and sheer exhaustion. I turned on the flood light and turned the battery switch to the backup battery. Two rods were rigged with free hooks and live baits to swim around by the boat. I did not put out a deep bait on purpose. I was too tired. If a fish came into the light and grabbed a live one then he would earn every inch of line he got. I actually hoped to be left alone and sat back eating a piece of cantelope under the stars. I fell dead asleep and was awakened by splashing beside the boat. A little dolphin had hooked itself and could take no line from the tightly set drag. It was airing out on a taught line giving his all. He may have saved my life so I let him go. I was upset that I had fallen asleep. I slept four hours adrift with no watch. Careless at best! Luck was on my side as it had been the whole trip. Not only did I wake to no freighters running me over but squid were all under the lights. I even had one on the other rod that had eaten the other minnow. I threw some minnows over and watched the squid attack them. The squid were simple to catch on a squid jig and I filled up a five gallon bucket of them. I sat back and drank some cold water and ate some vienna sausages. I put a deep rigged squid down around 100’ and also freelined two more live baits into the lights. The live baits were a waste as the squids kept eating them. I relaxed a while longer when the clicker started going slowly on the squid rig. Nothing ever happened and I reeled up nothing. The hook had been chewed off the line. I was thankful to have spent little energy on the shark.
The squid were beginning to do a dance of some sort. The whole school appeared to be pulsating in the light. This pattern of behavior increased in frequency and I finally realized what was happening. The squid were being attacked from below by tuna. The tuna were streaking by on the edge of the light. I watched them cause the squid school to thin and eventually disappear. Left in the light were a few squid and several big tunas cruising by. I tossed a dozen minnows over and created a frenzy. The tuna devoured the live baits. Over went one with a hook in it and the fight was on instantly. Being greedy I set the rod in a holder while the fish made his first run and dropped another bait in the water with a hook. The rod was set in the holder to wait and I went back to work on my hooked fish. It was very little time before rod two bowed over. I chuckled aloud. I ended up catching four yellowfin before I was out of bait. Maybe I shouldn’t have fed the squid, although, I do not think reeling in another tuna was in me at the time. It was near five A.M and I was ready to troll home.
The abundance of ice had been emptied out of the cooler and into my fish bag so the tuna could be packed well into the cooler. The heads and entrails were removed. The body cavity of each fish was packed tight with salted ice and the fish were packed into the cooler and buried in ice. I still had 100# of ice in the fish bag that would not fit back in the cooler. By quarter after five I was ready to start trolling. I turned the key to start the engine and it wouldn’t turn over. My heart skipped a second before I remembered the battery switch. I switched to the resting battery and she fired right up. Not a cool feeling at all. It was still dark but grey light was showing in the sky. I began the troll to the west and home. My drift overnight had carried me way off the edge.
I was indecisive as to whether or not I really wanted another fish. I did. Hopefully some grass or buoys could be found. Bailer dolphin would be nice and would not kill my aching body trying to fight them. I had been trolling a few miles watching the sky fill with color when the tunas started airing out again near the same place I was at sunset. All three of my rods were ambushed simultaneously and mayhem ensued. These fish were making things difficult quick. They went three directions. The reels were screaming bloody murder and heating up. All three were at almost full drag and down to a quarter spool before I could decide which way to turn the boat. Any three of these fish would test my energy level alone. It took two hours and plenty of rod alternating to land two of the three Allison tuna. The third pulled the hook 50 feet from the boat two hours into the fight. I did put two hundred pounds more Allison tuna in the fish bag though.
After packing the last two Allison’s I realized more tuna would likely kill me. I did have a bunch of whole squid however and I decided to drop deep a few times. I was only two miles outside of the tile grounds. Trolling gear was put away and I motored over to the tile ledge. The first drop brought a spine dog. The second drop brought a spine dog. I swore I would quit if I caught another spine dog and thats when the first tilefish Sea bass combo came to the surface. That broke the ice and I continued to catch tilefish until the fish bag would not zip around another fish. Mixed among the tiles were several ocean perch and some Vermillion Snappers. My boat would probably sink if I kept fishing. It really was time to head home and a little breeze was starting to blow from the East. Time had slipped me by and it was three o’clock. With luck I would be home by dark at 15 knots.


Do you guys want to know how my ride home went? I haven't even got to use the Browning yet. 15 replies gets the rest of the story...

Disclaimer...all lies. Honey I swear I was anchored under the lesner bridge fishin for croakers.

[matey8941]

wow dude your a nut...haha must have been fun

[SeaBiscuit]

Best piece of writing I've read in a long while Geoff! Catching big fish from a small boat is the stuff of dreams.
SeaBiscuit

[Capt. Brian Daley]

Sweet story would like to hear the rest

[matey8941]

i wna hear the rest of the stroy

[Tenacious]

Howly Cow!!!! This is a Masterpiece!!!! Please tell us more!!!!!

Will we get a FACIAL?

[wild1]

WAITING FOR THE REST OF THE STORY.

[jbhockeyfan]

Geoff I hope you took a camera along. What a day on the water. Please fill us in on the rest of the day. I have a feeling there is much more to be told.Congratzs so far on a great trip

[Miles Offshore]

man, great writing!!!! i was right with you clearing the jetties. pretty work on the marlin too- you made my friggin back ache with all the tuna,lol. Cant wait to read the rest of the story and thanx for taking the time to write up what you did-

BTW- I usually tell mama that i am up at dunkards hole or if i am really brazen i will say the 1st island if i am by myself , and i still get a lot of lip service-

[Miles Offshore]

what kind/size boat are you running?