June 06 ... Bloodlust season Begins

[Deep C]

This is a two day report...
I could no longer stand the waiting... I slid to the edge and beat on some neeters whail waiting for the day to unfold. As i knew the flight would be a later one and traffic would further slow my groups arrival, In order to maximize fishing time I would pick them up at the Dump as opposed to the palace where I normally store the death yacht Deep C.
I could tell he had the eagle eyes of a fisherman as I answered the phone. "Paul I see two gorgeous bikinis at the activity center." No gps numbers were necssary. I spotted the same range and slid to the parking lot to meet my people...
Sea Biscuit and his friend Rod boarded the Deep whos grumbly thing wee grumbling and the sticks with string prepared for combat. I was taken back as the I saw a six pack of "Evian" french fag designer water deposited in my manly man drink cooler. Nick vouched for the integrity of his friend, Rod, despite lousy taste in beverages.
Ten minutes later I laid the floppy things (riggers) out and deployed a mixed spread of death. I had the speed jacked up by 150 rpm over my usual to avoid neeter contact and to ensure I could get deep into sword country later in the eve.
The flat was first to go. A dinky bait class dolphin had commited a fatal error and was dropped in the box. A plain ol jap feather had drawn first blood.
Next the right rigger naked got doinked next. This was a larger specimen of mahi vaiety. Rod battled the fish and the elements oof south Florida afternoon heat... I had to slow the boat don to "Evian drinker" speed in order to get string back on the TLD. Nick coached and provided refreshement to his buddy.

The right naked continued to produce a steady stream of action. Nick sure seemed to relish every moment. Savoring every crank. Cause for a big guy he sure does reel slow.

Weeds were issues and the mahi pick steady. We were in the process of doing a reset and getting back on course. I had my back turned when I heard "Paul, marlin!". I turned to see nick with the big stick in hand trying to drop back. I saw a blur of purple and nail the flat then turn aft, stopping for a split second to wreck a rigger bait then vanish... Without positive species ID it woukld be tough to say with certainty but my guess is that the blue water antichrist had just paid us a visit.
We continued to pick mahi while one was diced and presented as "Greco Mexican Sashimi" which we devoured with glee...
I neared the numbers of what I hoped would be the consumate drift. Light stick attached. Trolling gear brought in and throttles pulled back. First go at setting a bait was a bust. Weeds were thick. A quarter mile move set me up for clear water andthe squidlies sank.
The drift was as perfect as we could have asked for. 2.9 knots just a shade west of due north would take us across a mountain of "X"s as marked on my sword chart...
The fish however had other plans. Other than a lone squid and a few mahi and some kind of mystery fish the light drew nothing. The squids were worked and checked. I saw one bump but inspection showed the fish had hit the lightstic and pulled it down... That was it for the night.
We had had a good day, just no sword. After dropping them at the dump,I rode in the tower enjoying the night air and reliving the day with great company.

Yesterday was hot, steamy and I could feel that wind at the bck of my neck. South West. Tough in the winter on fishing. In summer it means something worse.
We had trolled through hellish weeds to roughly half way to the sword grounds when the friendly skies loaded up and grew ugly to our south. I could see the writing on the wall. A line of ball busting bags of wind and lightning would make the swordin impossible. Sadly I informed my crew that swordin was off the menu and we'd have to settle for some variety before the heavens opend up on us.
I slid back to the edge near the safety of the inlet. We could watch as the offshore closed out under the weather. A fairly good bull piled on a tear drop to break the ice. Though I hammered the area, no more wanted to play. We slipped up the edge and One rod started to bend then I saw a sail on the other side and it started to bend. Before Nick or I could get thre to drop back it was already done. We looked at each other and the feather rod even got a pull. 0-3 on spindle beaks
A final oversized summer hummer neeter piled on the reset rigger and we had to make tracks for the dock to avoid the hell that the sky was about to unload.
Back at the dock. The rain cleared. The temerature soared to 96. With no motors growling in my ears the silence let me just take a moment and thank the good lord for great people like Nick and Rod...and all the great people I have met here on SFC.
I sat at home looking to the east wondering if I had done right by dodging the storm. Would it clear and get nice? Alas... I wtached the ssky above the sword grounds blinking with a severe unloading of excess voltage til deep into the night.
I'm bound and determined to get Nick that dream sword and mark my words net time I will!

[Deep C]

Some of you have seen this in person and you know what it means...


For those who havn't seen it, I'll spell it out. It means that ol Deep C here is on a mission. The rolling tackle box is loaded with enough stuff to kill the north Atlantic and is headed to a town near you!
Loook out to sea... Go on... Do it... See those ripples out there about 40 mile off? Thats the makos quakin in their boots...
About 30 outfits , 50 shark rigs, a couple hundred lures, a couple gaffs, rod belts, hardware, line, a few hundred extra hooks, leaders, secret blend chum additives, fishing clothes, several pairs of suunglases to protect the baby blue lazers, cameras, videos, electronics, etc...have been loaded into the rolling tackle box. The instant coffe and water stowed where I can get to it near the trunk. PBJ at the ready by the side door. The bait box waits to be loaded with secret goodies in the morn. Game face on. Almost ready to take names and whop on the demonic ones...