tuesdays group was from Hudson, ma. Being just a few towns away from me, we had made arrangements to meet at my place at 4:30 am and all ride down to the marina together. 5:15 and they fnally show up(seems like this is becoming a trend). Their crew had dwindled from 4 to 2 men, which is a little more comfortable on the carolina, and not normally a big deal, but little did we know how this day was going to unfold.
6:30, after borowing a fighting harness and harpoon from a good friend(mine were kindly stolen while my boat was getting the motor pulled) we headed right into the easterly slop known as october fishing. On the boat were PJ, who has had one tuna under his belt on a previous trip this year, and Marcus, who will from here on be refered to as "the puker". PJ has very minimal fishing experience, and Marcus has NONE. As I found out on the ride out aparently marcus thought we were going bass fishing and had no idea what we were in for.
Two hours into the troll through tight 3 ft slop I had seen a few boats hook up, and the radio chatter had suggested that most hookups were coming from live bait and jigs. My livewell was full of eager baits, but I pressed on doing what I do. I hadn't seen or marked a fish all day, and were were getting knocked around pretty good in the seas, the puker was doing what pukers do best.....not looking so good.
But if you put your time in, you shal be rewarded, left corner goes tight. Clear the rods!! I knew that with this less than experienced crew, no mate and sloppy conditions this would be a challenge. Pj is on the fish, me and the puker begin clearing the spread. As the pukers bar gets 20 feet from the boat tuna #2 crashes the party in were doubled up. FAAACK!! I clear two more lines and try to shout directions to the boys on the rods. The puker is down on one knee trying to hold on to the rod and what was left of his breakfast. The two long rigger lines remained out as we tried to manage these fish. The puker was short lived on the rod, and insisted that I take over- Now im on the rod, fish not too far from the boat, the puker was at the helm, and pj was just hanging on to his fish while I delt with the one that was close. I get my fish to color, and wouldnt you know it... The long rigger that was left out goes tight. 20 minutes after the first hook up! FAAACK NO, NOOO FAAAAcK!!!! Tripled up!! 3 GUYS ON THE BOAT, FAAACK!!
Im literally screaming nooooo! Now were screwed, Im the only one on the boat that can leader, gaff, and drive the boat. I throw my rod into a holder and run for the radio. "DOM!, DOM!, get your ass over here! Im trippled up! I need one of your anglers!!" In between trying to catch my breath I give him my coordinates. Back on the rod, I muscle the fish up the last few feet and bury the gaff in his back. Not a nice shot, but #1 is in the boat, in the 45" range. At this piont the third fish was 200 yards of my bow, line running strait under the boat. I see Doms Dusky roaring to the scene, and with a little hairy boat work one of his crew gets dropped off on my deck. Mike gets strapped into fish #3. In hindsight, after replaying the clusterf*ck of a situation over ond over in my head, I wish I had handed one of the rods off to Dom, on his boat and let them fight it. Woulda shoulda whatever, theres always next time.
Pj starts working his fish to the boat, what stubborn damn fish these were, fighting as if they had 50 more lbs on them than they did. Pj's fish gets close, but he just cant get him up the last ten feet. With Dom and crew as an audience they watch and video me take multiple deep poon shots with no results- the dart had fallen off the iron. F******ck! I grab the line and horse him up the last few feet- tuna number two gets an Aftco facial, and in the boat- 60" fish.
Now there are two bleeding angry tuna, one 160 qt cooler, and 3 people trying to stay on their feet in building seas. Mike is doing his best to break the will of fish #3 ..... bigger fish- we have him up and down for ten minutes- drag locked down, not making much progress. Pj is holding onto Mike, the puker was sitting on the cooler (in sheer horror at what he was witnessing on this "bass" trip) and I was at the wheel trying to keep the fish at bay. Everybody was exhausted, I was ready for this be over with. I had Mike put the reel in low gear, thumb the spool and winch that stubborn mother up. I tempted fate asking Pj to leader the fish, hoping that he would man up and bring this melee to an end, he gets hold of the line, starts to pull- and as the fish gets into range and surges downward, pj lets go of the leader, I see my shot dematerializing and launch the poon downward in despiration, the rod tip snaps up and its over faster than it began. Big fish- looked to be 75+ swimming away with $90 of jewelry trailing from his face. I really dont even like telling the story.
That would have been some shit... getting the over, the under, and the giant.
Dom motored back over and picked up his angler, threw his hands up and said "hey two for three aint bad"... Dom I guess your right... but little did he know what I had just made eye contact with a few minutes prior. Ya, two for three aint all that bad I suppose, but im still kicking myself in the ass.
I sent Mike and his crew off with the smaller fish, as a thank you gift, and spent the next ten minutes catching my breath and washing blood off every god damn inch of the boat. I called it a day, pointed the boat west and throttled down. That Carolina is one fishy boat......



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