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Looks like i've finally found one of the best offshore sites on the web...
Thanks for the invites guys i'm glad i came over here...lots of friends on here already and looking forward to making a lot more...there's very few sites i post on...i'll include this as one of them from now on...
Since i haven't been fishing since tuesday and most of you have already seen the reports from the epic tuna bite this week on other sites i won't bore you with reiteration...instead i'll give you a sneak peak of an article i just finished for one of the mags...and as i'm going fishing again on Sunday before i head to Fred Hall in Long Beach i'll have a fresh report for you then...keep your fingers crossed...and hopefully it'll be a good one...
THE GREAT CANEXICAN STRIPED MARLIN OF 1959
Phil and Verne first met in the spring of 1959 at a
logging camp on the banks of the Copper River near
Terrace, British Columbia. Although the two had been
logging for the better part of thier equal 23 years
their paths had never crossed...but this wasn't
surprising. The logging industry was booming in
Canada during these times and countless young men just
like them took to the woods in search of
adventures...and healthy paychecks with which to fund
them.
As luck would have it Phil and Verne were assigned to
the same falling crew and struck up a friendship
during the first few weeks together chopping and
sawing the giant western red cedars and towering old
growth spruce that lined the Copper river valley. It
was tough work, but as the two soon discovered...talk
of thier mutual love of fishing helped to pass the
time and ease the pains of such manual burdens.
While the trees fell and the summer wore on the two
friends began to formulate a plan for a great post
season adventure. And as the first snows began to
fall and the men were chased from the woods, Phil and
Verne cashed their final paychecks and headed south
for the bustling city of Vancouver and the promise of
something spectacular.
Over the summer logging season, Verne shared with Phil
the stories his uncle Hadley, a bush pilot in
Ketchikan, Alaska, brought back with him each spring
from the wayward pilot's adventures to a far off land
called Mexico. Where the sun shone bright and strong
all year long and the fish were quite literally larger
than the boat.
While Phil had heard of Mexico he certainly knew of no
one who had actually been there...and Verne's
acecdotes about his uncles travels...and the fishing
he enjoyed there, had begun to take hold of Phil's
imiganition.
The two friends held common bonds between their love
of fishing for salmon, trout, and steelhead
across their native province of British Columbia, but
none of their adventures could compare with those as
told by uncle Hadley. The heartstopping tales of
giant fish that attacked boats and threatened life and
limb were like nothing the two had heard or, for that
matter, dreamed of before.
So the seeds were indeed planted firmly thanks to the
tales from uncle Hadley and it was with all this in
mind that Phil and Verne set off from Vancouver in the
fall of 1959 to discover for themselves just what kind
of madness lay ahead.
As far as adventurers go, Phil and Verne, as simple
hard working Canadians must have looked quite peculiar
indeed to those particular border guards working the
San Diego/Tijuana border between the USA and Mexico
that day. While there were no international incidents
to speak of i'm certain the pair were overwhelmed to
finally meet uncle Hadley the next day in the small
coastal fishing village of Ensenada, along the Baja
penninsula of Mexico where the great travelling uncle
was apt to pass his time.
Uncle Hadley was overjoyed to see the duo...knowing
all to well that half of the adventure of travelling
to Mexico...particularly in those days... was the
accomplishment of even getting there. And as Phil and
Verne shrugged off their dusty travelling packs
against the porch of uncle Hadley's rented bungalow
and accepted the two cold beers pushed their way...as
they often do...the trials and tribulations of
travelling adventures seemed to fade away.
As the beers were drained uncle Hadley ventured into some
electric accounts of the yellowtial fishing he had
been enjoying with his mexican compadre Eduardo...who
as uncle Hadley relayed...could fix just about
anything on an airplane and fish the heck out of those
yellowtail.
Uncle Hadley explained the ins and outs of fishing
yellowtail and warned the two to keep a sharp eye out
for what he called a tailing striped marlin. The
information was coming in such rapid succession that
niether Phil nor Verne were completely sure of whether
or not they were fishing for stiped yellows or tailing
dorado...but uncle Hadley's enthusiasm was contagious
and by the time the sun set and they had safely eaten
their first taco's the two struggled to find sleep as
scenes from thier own living adventure flashed through
their heads.
In the morning Eduardo and uncle Hadley rousted the
boys from their bunks and after a brief mexican
breakfast of fresh turtle eggs and coffee the
ramshackle team of Canexicans loaded into Eduardo's
panga and set off from shore.
As often happens during trips of this nature to remote
and perhaps long forgotten locations...the boys were
slaying them by noon. Eduardo was "En fuego" as he
was fond of saying...each and every time he hooked a
fish.
"En fuego amigos! Eduardo he get anoder wun!"
Uncle Hadley was too busy helping Phil and Verne to
give a proper account of himself but he did manage a
few solid fish which he in turn made a point of
demonstrating to Eduardo.
It was all very new and devestatingly exciting to Phil
and Verne who by this time were just trying very hard
to soak it all in. As the sun grew in the sky and the
fish continued to bite the boys actually got the hang
of it to the point where they could manage on thier
own and as Eduardo and uncle Hadley sat back and
opened a fresh can of beer Phil and Verne both pinned
on a new bait and pitched it out into the deep blue
depths.
As had been happening...almost immediately the two
suffered a vicious strike. Phil set first followed by
Verne and both of thier rods wholloped into a deep
bend. Uncle Hadley giggled as Eduardo screamed "En
fuego!!!" saluting the boys with his beer.
Unfortunatley in his excitement Eduardo spilled a good
swig into his face and came up from the back of the
panga sputtering and trying desperately to clear his
eyes.
He nearly stumbled over, and had uncle Hadley and the
two boys all looking over their shoulders laughing at
him as he came to and joined them all in a good
chuckle.
Apparently it was a real good one because Eduardo suddenly
choked violently as his eyes made a good effort to
jump completely out of his head. How he managed in
his violent contorsions to remove a hand from his neck
and point it past the two boys in the directions of
thier lines we will never know. But as uncle Hadley
and the two anglers twisted around to follow Eduardo's
maddenning gestures it became quite clear why the
panicked Mexican was currently choking on his tongue.
Under the radar a massive striped marlin had appeared
on the scene and was at that very moment chasing not
only one but both of the boys' hooked yellowtails
around on the surface not 20 feet from the boat.
"SONOFA!" screamed uncle Hadley as he made dive for
Verne's rod...
"ESTRIPER!!! ESTRIPER!!! EEEEESTRIPER!!!!" adds
Eduardo who had almost successfully regained his
tongue. With a massive pull on the rip cord the
sputtering outboard motor roared to life as though
Eduardo knew what would come.
In a flash the marlin crashed Phil's yellowtail. An
explosion showered the boys on the bow of the panga but
before anyone could react the fish turned on Verne's fish too and
devoured that one in another massive boil.
The boys...certainly shell shocked from what has just
transpired...were left to their own devices as uncle
Hadley was thrown through the air towards Eduardo as the
captain gunned the boat in hot pursuit of the striper
that was high tailing it for the horizon at a rate of
unimaginable speed.
Although the two boys knew little spanish...they were
quite sure whatever was coming from Eduardo's lips had
nothing to do with angling instructions.
For their own good, instinct took over and the boys
managed to recover line as Eduardo regained his
composure and not only straightened up uncle Hadley
but managed to keep from running over the lines as
well.
It took a full thirty minutes to get close enough to
the marlin...which likely weighed something in the
neighborhood of 200 pounds...but which, to the
boys...must have seemed closer to 2,000.
As they watched the fish swim just below the surface
of the water they were awestruck by the glowing colors
that seemed to come from some kind of hidden circutry
within the fish. Nothing in the waters of British
Columbia looked like this...and certainly nothing in
the deep forests either.
But there it was...the very adventure and realism they
had set out to discover...a beast so complety foreign
it teetered on magical...and it scared those grizzled
loggers right to the timbers.
Eduardo made a move for the gaff but uncle Hadley
stopped him. He asked the boys what they wanted to do
with the fish and in unison they cried...
"You don't mean to bring that thing in here with us do
you?"
And although i'm not sure billfish conservation was
high on thier considerations that day, uncle Hadley
nevertheless reached over and cut the leaders and freed
that marlin. And the two, right then and there, became
the first Canadians to ever release a billfish.
Since that day the two former loggers have traveled
far and wide across our globe in search of the same
adventure. And they have found it...time and time
again.
It's been years now since Phil and Verne hung up their saws and axes for good but the passion for fishing...and more
importantly billfishing...that they kindled deep in
the woods of British Columbia still burns strong.
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Watch out guys & girls this guy stays on Fire!!!
Originally Posted by Squidnation
