VENICE - It had been a grueling 35 hours for Mike and Paul Ippolito, of New Orleans . Aboard the 50-foot Hatteras, Miss Cathy, the veteran big game anglers, along with Pat Fitzmorris, of New Orleans , and Ron Roland of Plano , Tex , had been scouting the deep waters of the Gulf for monster tuna and blue marlin.
The journey had been a long one. The crew had piloted the boat from the mouth of the Mississippi River to the semi-submersible oil platforms, such as Mars and Ursa, and drill ships in 5,000-foot depths nearly 70 miles out. But from 4:30 a.m. Saturday to Sunday at 3:30 p.m., they had not brought the first fish to gaff.
But when a fish finally did crash their lure, the wait was worth it all. For the next 5-½ hours four men battled a 1,152-pound giant bluefin tuna in a story that is likely to go down in angling history. It was an epic battle between man and beast, involving a fish of monstrous proportions. The experience would have even impressed the late, great Ernest Hemingway, who reportedly spent several of his gin-soaked afternoons at the legendary Big Game Fishing Club in Port Eads, ironically where the fish was weighed later that evening.
Visions of Hemingway’s classic The Old Man and the Sea come to mind when hearing the story, particularly the end. During the fight, the leviathan actually pulled an 86,000-pound boat 10 miles out into the Gulf, before it finally succumbed to exhaustion some 35 miles off the mouth of the Mississippi River . After it was determined that the fish would not fit through the transom door of the Hatteras, the crew tied its tail with a rope and slowly pulled the beast back to Port Eads.
Fortunately unlike the Hemingway novel, sharks were not a problem.
Because of its enormous size and stamina, the giant bluefin is one of the most rare species that has ever been caught off the Louisiana coast. The tuna shattered the former record of 891 pounds caught by Darlene Fischer in 1981. Just how rare is this creature? Capt. Myron Fischer, who piloted the boat when his wife caught the former record 22 years ago, estimates that fewer than 25 bluefins have been caught on rod and reel in the history of Louisiana fishing.
Fischer, a veteran charter captain, is a voting member of the Gulf of Mexico Fisheries Council (GMFC) The council makes recommendations to the National Marine Fisheries Council which sets rules and regulations in the Gulf of Mexico .
Significantly more bluefin tuna are caught by rod and reel on the East Coast because frankly, they are easier to reel in from shallow water. A large fish that has sounded deep is very difficult to retrieve from the depths because of the added weight of billions of gallons of water it must pass through.
The Miss Cathy’s catch set the new all-tackle state record, breaking the previous record - a 1,018-pound blue marlin caught by Linda Koerner of New Orleans in 1977. The current world-record, a 1,496-pound bluefin tuna, was caught in 1979 off the coast of Nova Scotia , Canada .
This highly migratory species are known to travel thousands of miles, cross entire oceans to seek out suitable spawning habitat. And each year around Memorial Day, anglers tell tales of watching these silver submarines slowly move underneath their boats, while their jumps from the water are often compared to "flying Volkswagens."
If you’ve ever seen this phenomenon it’s a sight you won’t easily forget.
The Ippolito brothers, Fitzmorris and Roland were within an inch of calling it quits when they heard on the VHF radio that there was something going on at the rip. After logging many hours and miles on their trip, they were ready for something to happen. So they headed toward this perpetually moving weed line, drawn together by the Gulf’s unpredictable loop currents. Smaller fish seek out the safety and sanctuary of the rip, while larger predators lay ready to violently ambush them.
"We were getting tired and frustrated" said Mike Ippolito, who began fishing off the coast of Venice more than 20 years with his mentor Clio Blue Sr. "I’m sitting in the chair watching baits - but thinking about going home and having a drink."
The Hatteras was now slowly clipping eastward along the well-defined grass line that had moved within 25 miles south of South Pass on Sunday. After a few more minutes, Ippolito told Fitzmorris he was ready to call it a day.
"I told Patrick ‘15 more minutes,’" Ippolito said. "At four-o-clock we going to leave - no `matter what."
But no one expected what was about to happen. First came a significant disturbance about 300 yards in front of the Hatteras.
A massive surface explosion sent hundreds of chicken dolphin, or small mahi mahi, literally flying into the air. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that a huge predator was crashing these schools of smaller fish on the khaki-colored weed line. Then came a series of other splashes, scattering forage fish in every direction imaginable.
Suddenly the mood aboard the Miss Cathy was different. The afternoon had become much more interesting.
"Get the teasers up," Ippolito bellowed, as he increased the speed of the Hatteras from six to 22 knots. "Leave the lures, but get the teasers up now."
As the Miss Cathy sped toward the area of disturbance, pandemonium had broken out on board. Ippolito knew had what probably caused the commotion ahead - a giant bluefin tuna. He had seen this kind of activity before. And he knew how valuable this species is. As one of the most desirable fish in the world, the bluefin tuna fetches big bucks on the commercial market. Foreign brokers regularly fly to a port to test the grade of the meat, and make a bid on the fish.
Professional tuna captain and sashimi fanatic Peace Marvel recalls one time in the early 1990s, when a 445-pound bluefin was auctioned off in Japan for $175,000. Imagine what a properly handled 1,152-pound bluefin may have brought under the right circumstances.
To this team the goal was not money but the thrill and challenge of fighting and landing one of the most powerful fish in the Gulf of Mexico .
Sportfishermen are not allowed to sell their catch. This chase was purely for the thrill and the glory!
The giant bluefin is a highly migratory species that seeks out the prime spawning environs of the warm waters of the mid-Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico . Biologists say bluefin are seen frequently in Gulf waters between December and March. But veteran offshore captains in south Louisiana say these monsters have been making surprise appearances around the Memorial Day weekend.
When the Miss Cathy approached the area the crew saw evidence of not one, but several big fish. Like 12-foot silver surface missiles, they locked onto their targets and blew up thick schools of dolphin and flying fish. They were on a mission and everything in their paths was marked meat.
"I really couldn’t put a number on all of them," Mike Ippolito said. "I do know that it was more than one."
Paul Ippolito and Fitzmorris began placing baits over the stern of the boat. They used some of their sturdiest and most expensive rigs, Shimano Tiagra 80-W reels seated on Stuart custom rods. Each of the reels were spooled with 900 yards of 100-pound Suffix mono, and tipped with 18 feet of 400-pound leader. The baits were Joe Yee (pink) skirted lure and a Cajun Yap (with a yellow bird teaser). Double 10/0 Mustad hooks with wire were placed under the skirts.
Particularly with bluefin tuna, hooks are critical. The crew uses double-hook rigs, Mustad 7731-D (Sea Demon series - Go to: http://www.mustad.no/latinamerica/om...erciales9b.htm ).
The hooks, a typical tandem billfish rig are placed at 180 degrees, or at different anglers so the prey will become hooked at the top and bottom of their jaws.
As soon as the baits were set back, the crew watched in awe as one of these roaming leviathans wasted no time pouncing on the starboard flat line attached to Cajun Yap. Then came the sweet sound of a screaming gold Tiagra.
For scale, Paul Ippolito, standing on the right, is over 6 feet tall.
Click this image for a larger view
"All of a sudden water is flying everywhere and I’m screaming ‘it’s a monster bluefin - clear the cockpit," Ippolito said.
Fitzmorris described the scene aboard the boat as frantic. The fish continued to dump the spool at an alarming pace - even with Ippolito backing down on the fish at 5 knots. There seemed to be no stopping this fish. Roland sat helplessly in the chair and prayed that the beast would slow down.
"It happened so fast. Before we could even get a full spread back out the fish hit," Fitzmorris said. "The tuna hit hard and just kept on going."
Roland, who had just returned to Texas to nurse sore muscles and blistered hands, recounted the first few minutes of the run he’ll never forget.
"We had five other lines in the water when the fish was running," Roland said. "There was no time to get all of them in. So they had to start cutting the lines."
Others said it would have been no problem getting a second or a third bluefin to strike. But that would have probably resulted in a tangle and losing one or both of the fish.
Roland took his seat in the chair and the fight began. The crew described the first run as unlike anything they had ever seen or imagined. The big blue ran hard, stripping an estimated 700 yards of line off Tiagra in about three minutes.
"At that point we were just trying to figure out how to stop the fish before he took out all the line," said Fitzmorris. "But Mike did a great job at the helm. I think he should be nominated as Captain of the Year."
Ippolito had rushed back on the bridge and threw the Hatteras into reverse. He instructed Roland to reel back in as much line as he could. Forty-five minutes into the battle and he probably got back half of the line that had been initially taken. But he had no idea that the heat of the battle was still hours away. He briefly entertained thoughts of a brief fight when the leader became visible at the end of the first hour. But the others knew better - they didn’t even consider getting the gaff.
"The fish was green," said Ippolito. "There was no way I was going to gaff him. I don’t think he knew he was hooked at that point."
"When the fish saw the boat, he took off," said Fitzmorris, nephew of former Louisiana Gov. Jimmy Fitzmorris. "We were backing down on the fish the whole time."
Roland, meanwhile, was furiously cranking as the crew worked non-stop, clearing rods and the deck, watching the movement of the fish, and checking the extremely critical angle of the line."
The crew of the Miss Cathy set the state abuzz with the news of her record catch.
Click this image for a larger view.
They knew that regardless of their fine vessel and tackle, the giant bluefin always has the edge. This is why so few have ever been caught in Louisiana on rod and reel.
The team worked feverishly on the deck. While not pouring Gatorade in Roland’s mouth, they would grease up the "slider bucket," with liquid detergent. On this style of fighting chair, the angler uses his legs to pump their legs and torso (and the rod) back and forth. While this is happening, the angler cranks the handle of the reel.
Occasionally the non-stop movement of the spool and line roller builds up considerable friction. The crew would then douse the rod and reel with water to keep it from smoking and locking up.
The crew came together and worked feverishly as a team. They knew that one mistake and it would all be over. As the pandemonium continued, there was more bluefin madness reported a few miles west of them on the rip.
Nary Cannon and Barry Viosca on the 33-foot Gulf Stream Not Too Much were cruising along the rip and watching and the thousands of colorful chicken dolphin, darting in and out of the line of Sargasso weeds. The visibility of the pristine blue water must have been at least 15 feet down and the view was spectacular.
But Cannon’s eyes lit up and he shouted a string of choice words as he watched possibly a dozen silver submarines passed directly under their boat. The fins, the heads and the baseball-sized eyes were a dead giveaway - these were monster bluefins.
"I called Barry over to see, and they were big bluefins," Cannon said. "They were like stacked up, each was probably 10 to 12 feet long."
Unfortunately, Viosca’s boat was not equipped with a fighting chair or rods and reels capable of reeling in a half-ton fish. But there was a boat approaching them on the rip, the White Marlin that probably did.
"I got on the radio and told them what we were seeing," said Cannon. "They moved into position, dropped their baits, and had an immediate hookup."
Cannon and Viosca watched the crew of the White Marlin battle the blue for a couple of hours before decided to target some smaller species. And while they didn’t catch many fish, he described it as the best fishing trip of his life.
"I was so excited to be a part of it," he said. "It was the best."
They watched the crew come together as a team and battle. And there were jubilation on the radio - big bluefin on - BIG BLUEFIN ON."
Now there were two boats, the Miss Cathy and the White Marlin fighting fish.
By 6 p.m. Roland had retrieved the fish once again to the leader. But it saw the boat and made a move that everyone feared. It sounded, going straight down in the 1,000-foot depths.
The planing technique
About four hours into the fight and Roland’s muscles ached, his fingers were blistered, and his arms began to cramp up. When the word made it up to the helm, Mike came down to the cockpit to give Roland some words of encouragement.
"You’ve gotta understand, Mike’s a big guy," Roland said. "By this time my knees and elbows had locked and I guess I started complaining and bitching. The reel is in full lock, so there’s no more drag."
And the big tuna continued to swim straight down.
"If we don’t stop this fish now we’re going to be here all night," said Mike Ippolito. "You’re going to fight this fish now, or I’m going to cut the line."
As Roland pumped, retrieved and cranked, a call came over the radio at 7 p.m. that the crew of the White Marlin had lost their bluefin. And the four men on the Miss Cathy had no intention of losing a fish they had invested 40 hours into.
If a 1,000-pound fish sounds to a depth of 700 feet, the weight of the fish and the millions of gallons of water above it creates an almost impossible situation for the angler. This becomes an even stickier situation if the fish overheats and dies below.
Fisheries biologist, Jerald Horst said that these giant muscle machines can reach internal temperatures of 150 degrees Fahrenheit in the heat of battle.
However, if the captain of the boat knows how to "plane" the fish up, an angler’s chances improve dramatically.
"Roland described to me that there was a slight tapping on the rod," Ippolito said. "I knew the fish was getting ready to die of exhaustion. I told him to hang in there for just a little while and we’d get this fish to surface."
By 8:30 it became dark and it was even harder for the anglers to determine the direction of the line. Even dead, the fish was taking off line as it sank into the mighty currents below. Meanwhile, Ippolito bumped the throttle in and out of gear to get the fish to assume a position where it could be slowly glided up.
"(Mike) would bump it into gear, then back into reverse," Roland said. "Every time I’d get about three cranks. We must have done this hundreds of times."
Veteran offshore Capt. Mike Frenette has hooked nine bluefins in his career, but has never landed one. He said landing the 1,152-pound bluefin tuna was nothing short of remarkable.
"Planing is a common technique used in big game fishing," Frenette said. "It happens. Some fish exhaust themselves and go down to the thermocline to cool off. The currents move them around and it feels like their still alive."
Retrieving a big fish from these depths straight up can take hours. But planing can save time as well as heavy pressure on the line.
"You put the boat in forward slowly and bump the throttle, slowly bringing the boat in and out of gear," Frenette explained. Slowly go forward and the fish will begin to rise up in the water column."
Capt. Peace Marvel said this planing technique is often the difference in boating a big tuna or marlin, or breaking one off.
"It’s not unusual for a fish of that size to fight till the death," Marvel said. "And there’s no way to get it up without planing."
Bluefin tuna have the ability to dive extremely deep, Marvel said. They have been recorded to going down beyond 3,200 depths.
"You’ve got to give it to those guys," Marvel said. "The fact that they landed that fish is remarkable."
"I’ve never landed one," said Frenette. "Haven’t even come close. Everything has to go right. And there’s quite a bit of luck involved. Big game fishing is an ultimate display of teamwork. All the efforts of everyone on board have to be perfectly coordinated."
Capt. Myron Fischer has no regrets to see his wife’s 22-year record beaten.
"I think it’s phenomenal," Fisher said. "I can’t believe the record stood for as long as it did.
Darlene Fischer set her record exactly 22 years ago - on Memorial Day weekend.
The journey home
It was dark when the fish finally broke the surface of the water. The crew stood in awe, amazed at the size of this tuna. It was 130- ½ inches long, and 118 inches long from the fork. The bluefin had a 98-inch girth.
The crew of the Miss Cathy attempted many different methods of trying to get the fish into the 50-foot boat. Ippolito even called his old friend and mentor Cleo Blue for his assistance. Blue told him to pull the fish in by a rope while running the boat in reverse. However, Blue had no idea how big the fish was. It soon became obvious that this tuna was not going to make it through the transom door.
At that point the crew tied a rope to the tail and began to drag it back to Port Eads, a 7-hour journey.
When they arrived at the Big Game Fish Club at 5 a.m. they were greeted by about 10 men (armed with ice chests and filet knives). The men helped them hoist the beast onto the scale.
Even Ippolito was surprised when the weigh master gave the news.
"I’m going to call it at 1,125 pounds," he said.
"****," said Mike. "I figured it would have gone about 800 pounds. You never really know."
After a celebratory cocktail they had waited almost three days for, the butchering ritual began. It took nine people nearly three hours to clean the new state record bluefintuna. And nothing, NOTHING about this fish, Ippolito said, came easy.
Nothing good ever does!
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Now thats a fish story!!!
