Breaking in the Grunden's

[Kamo Gari]

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C&P from another site I posted on, but thought to share here.

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Left the pad today at the most ungentlemanly hour of 03:45 and headed south to meet up with the young but venerable Soundking. Being that this was to be our third trip for tunoids together and thereby seen by yours truly as the proverbial charm for certain, I brought the brandy-new Grundens out of the closet. Orange is a nice color, but as I prefer red, I put them on in the parking lot ready to get after it. We'd already discussed a plan and would be going balls out today, so what the hell. It was with high hopes that we set out on our first mission: making bait. As we'd spent the better part of five hours seeking pogies with snagging hooks the last time out, it was with pleasant surprise that I learned that JJ had gone ahead and bought a gillnet. Between a few snaggies and a couple of sets with decent results, we set out due east to ye olde hunting grounds with the livewell flush with livies.

We found fog almost as soon as we made it offshore, but JJ knows these waters well and we set out to hit some of his usual haunts, almost all of which are far from the madding crowd. The names of the markers which we bounced to and then from are well known, but it's all mostly gibberish to me; NWC this BE that, SWC this, BC that. A marine alphabet soup of sorts, you could say I suppose. But then I was just playing hitman, and my navigational queries were limited to things like, "so dude, which way's land again?". You get the picture. Well, our morning did not go very well, with no fish seen on top and precious few marked. But fear not, said JJ. We'll find them, even if it takes running down the backside of the cape. We did see some life, but nothing to get terribly excited about, save for some big fun with a basking shark, but that's a story for another day.

So, true to his word, the man kept at it, and his enthusiasm was catchy. But then I too was somewhat confident, evidenced by my having toted along my traveling butcher's ensemble. We looked for sign here and plodded there and seemingly everywhere, but no joy was to be had. Frustrating, but part of the hunt. At some point I got to feeling green, and had to get horizontal for awhile, and as such, have absolutely no idea where we were (OK, so I'm lying, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it). At some point JJ killed the twins, and I got up to peek around and happened to glance at the FF. I saw a rather large mark, and pointed it out to Jay. "Bass?", asks I. "Tuna", says JJ. A hapless pogie was strung up and was being sent out back, with JJ pulling line off the 50 by hand inside 30 seconds. I turned against the wind to light a wakey-wakey butt, and just then, heard an excited voice blurt out "we're about to get bit, dude, get read..." And then it happened. I turned to see for a split second the color on a large silvery shape. Said shape turned and headed south, and the drag screamed. JJ barked, "WE'RE ON!", and handed me the rod.

I let out a war cry or three of my own (profanity laced war cries I won't repeat here), and got set to do battle. JJ said, "that's a size large, bud; all you. Now put the wood to him!" In situations like this I normally don't need to be told twice, and this was no exception. I got busy trying to rip his head off. In a nice way, of course. Not sure if JJ pushed the drags to the stops on purpose or not, but that's where they were, and I knew I could best him, so left them there. The fish was certainly incredibly powerful, but I'd spent 30 hours so far without getting bitten. This guy wasn't getting away if I had any say in the matter. As I fought the fish JJ struggled to adjust the fighting harness. We are of somewhat disparate pant sizes, let's just say, so that was interesting, but the man got 'er done... Well, longer story shorter, JJ got me locked in, and inside a few minutes I was yelling for Jay to get on the gaff. I think Jay was a bit incredulous, as before getting the steel he leaned over to have a look-see. Seeing the fish five feet down, I guess he then concurred.

We talked briefly about how the gaffing would go (a sheet show, most likely), and it was decided that I'd bring the beast up to his doom, and Jay would be putting the steel to him at the first available chance. As soon as the gaff hit home I was to drop the rod and jump on the gaff with Jay, and we'd double team getting him over the gunnel. And so it went. When the fish hit the deck, however, it was, well, in a word: bedlam. People talk about green fish? Well, once on board it became clear that this one's blue hadn't even been introduced to his yellow yet. With not much else in our collective bag of tricks, we did what seemed like a good idea at the time: we jumped on the fish like a couple of WWF flunkies. The WWF match mega-bonanza immediately turned into a tuna rodeo. With 420 + lbs. worth of the both of us on top of the fish we still got bucked and smashed and flung about by this now highly upset creature. Like Billy Bob and Tuff Jenkins, dueling rodeo clowns at the Austin nationals, we held on for dear life. Keep in mind the gaff, still stuck in his noggin, was flailing around wildly and clanging off of everything, not to mention the fact that I was still attached to the fiddy, the fish via the hook and oh yeah, the fighting harness. Man, what a scene it was. I'm yelling for Jay to get a towel for the fish's eyes, and Jay's yelling for me to get him my knife to stick him to get the blood pumping out of him.

For a few moments I don't think either of us thought it was a wise idea to let go, and we just held on and got beat up for awhile. I said something to JJ about introducing a calming voice to the fish, much like that SS soldier in Saving Private Ryan as he drives the bayonet through the American GI's chest, but I don't think the fish spoke German, as it did not work very well. In hindsight, it was a comical sight to behold, I'm sure. At the time, however, it sure felt like we were locked in a life or death struggle. But then I guess we were. Not our lives, of course, but I digress... Soon after, JJ slid the blade of my rather large knife in behind the fish's pec, and hit what he was after, a main artery. We were rewarded by a torrent of hot blood that gushed several inches out of the fish's chest, and did not stop for a full ten minutes. The whole time JJ and I were giggling and squealing like a pair of Catholic school girls who just found out the head nun just called school for the week on account of a measles outbreak. Man, a couple posterboys for PETA we're not...

Some time shortly after, as the magnificent critter's lifeblood drained onto the deck, the beatings of his tail and body slowed, and eventually stopped. The rest was pretty much academic. He and I hauled the beast forward for the obligatory hero shots, and then I set about taking care of the fish, which I did. We didn't have a tape handy--and who cares anyway--but we figure it was pushing 70", and maybe went 180 lbs.+, but whatever; I'm not a numbers guy. I do know that we had to cut the tail and fold it to get it into the box. Those chores taken care of, I proceeded to then yak for a few minutes (my signature move after battling large sea creatures, apparently), while Jay went about getting the copious blood and miscellany that had been thrown about back into some sort of cohesive order.

Ice was added, and we had a few minutes of reflection. Such magnificent creatures they are, we agreed, and said that there are few, if any fish that swim that bring such joy to men, both at sea and at the table. It was a touching moment. A blood-soaked, Pringle's chip puke-filled moment, but touching nonetheless. After we got ready to get back underway to look for another for Jay to fight, JJ insisted that I got that fish in the boat inside five minutes. I maintained it was more like seven, and that the fish knew he was up against a half Japanese who will slit a man's throat for a nice platter of sashimi, and the fish thus figured why prolong the inevitable... But no matter; it was a team effort and a damned fine day on the mighty and mysterious Atlantic. We didn't end up crossing paths with any other tuna, but that's probably a good thing. By the time the butchering was done and I got busy dragging my arse north headed home, we'd been at it some 15 hours. Anyway, good times.

JJ, big thanks, brother. Chalk up another adventure on the board.

Cheers,

L

[Team Boat Show Direct]

Nice Tubie!!! Congrats sounds like you enjoyed!!

[SoBoSlow]

Hey L, nice fish and nice writing.

[backman]

a piece of advice on these 65"+ fish. Its a lot easier, less stressful and a hell of a lot less blood if after harpooning or gaffing one of these fish to tailrope then, lance the gills on both sides; put out the long riggers and start trolling again.

They sit a lot nicer on the deck after a nice 20 minute boatside

Regardless, congratulations.

[Kamo Gari]

Originally Posted by backman

a piece of advice on these 65"+ fish. Its a lot easier, less stressful and a hell of a lot less blood if after harpooning or gaffing one of these fish to tailrope then, lance the gills on both sides; put out the long riggers and start trolling again.

They sit a lot nicer on the deck after a nice 20 minute boatside

Regardless, congratulations.

Now why didn't I think of that?

Thanks, Larry. Actually, in the 'Onboard handling of sashimi Grade Tuna' (it can be Googled and found in PDF; good stuff), it recommends immediately braining them with a heavy priest (like a short blunt steel or leadfilled wood club) to subdue them. Above and beyond saving anglers the potential sh&tshow such as ours, its main goal is to hopefully prevent them damaging their own valuable meat on deck. I like your method, but the thought of losing a tied off fish troubles me.

[albin35]

Nice Fish

Did you get to eat the Heart? I had my first fish last month took A large bite of the heart and finished it. Regret not no eating the rest.

[tunakiller21]

thats why when you get a gaint you dont bring it in right away. your supposed to swim it to enhance the quality of the meat