Funny Marlin story, "Black Knight Takes Skip Jack" by Psycho Tours

[mike hennessy]

Black Knight Takes Skip Jack

The guy just just likes to fish. Plain and simple.

So when the 0600 wake up call on our VHF radio (conveniently located next to the commode) crackled through the receiver, “Get outta bed bitchy, you can sleep when you’re dead!” I was able to quickly respond, “Not this time Mike, I’m two coffees and half a Tico Times ahead of you. The caller, Mike Hennessy, is captain of the Jodari. A 30’ Carolina Classic privately owned by overworked, wealthy German billfishing enthusiasts. Mike and his coveted mate, Luis, consistently outfish the 40-50 boat fleet that’s comprised of a half dozen fishing lodges operating in the Golfo Dulce region of SW Costa Rica. So, whenever I get the call to go fishing, I wipe the slate clean- so to speak- and head over to Mikes.

Gathered in his beachfront home were the cast of characters for todays adventure: Morty, the paying client, (thank God someone was) was quietly drinking a cup of the finest coffee brewed by Katie, Mike’s wife. His excitement increasing as he flipped through Jodari’s impressive photo album. Kevin and Rob, a pair of artists visiting from Southern California with completely opposing styles- Kevin’s inspiration comes from the street, visceral and shocking while Rob expresses a softer portrait of graceful curves and warm hues. Rounding it out were Mikes Dad, Jim, and myself. Jim, having raised his son along streambeds of the western US casting flies for wild trout. And me? Well Mike likes me around for my penchant for telling a good joke, keeping a good mix of music and enthusiasm for jumping in after the oceans bounty of pelagic creatures… turtles, sea snakes, whatever.

Dry bags containing iPods, cameras, clothes and cigars were sealed and waiting above the high tide line. “It’s about time he showed up,” bellowed Mike as Luis and the Jodari eased into Backwash Bay after leaving the mooring in Puerto Jimenez about 20 minutes earlier. “In the water ladies” said Mike as he grabbed a dry bag and dived into the ocean, “and don’t forget the blue bag, Pruter.” Five minutes and 50 meters later, we were all on board. “Man, last nights rain really turned the water ugly,” Mike remarked to no one in particular. “We’re going to get our asses kicked motoring to La Chancha” he said, referring to the deep drop off about 1 ½ hours NW of Cabo Matapalo. Sure enough, by the time we reached La Chancha, Morty and Rob were as green as the verdant hillsides of the Osa Peninsula.

Eager to appease his revenue for the day, Mike made it clear that the first fish was Morty’s. And being a man of numbers as well as words, he explained that while the marlin were thick here yesterday, his clients couldn’t catch their own ass with two hands so Luis was to set the hook for all the fish today. “Fine by me,” I thought, as any excuse to give me an earful of grief would result from the slightest of infractions. “Fish on the right teaser! Reel it in! Where are my baits? WHAT ARE YOU CLOWNS DOING?! AHHHH!!!” Mike was screaming instructions to clear the lines and strap Morty into the fighting chair as Luis expertly baited and hooked a 350 lb. blue marlin exploding like a surface-to-air missle being fired by a Trident submarine. Morty fought valiantly and shook off his sea sickness to bring the illuminated beast to the boat in less than 45 minutes. Stoked to be 1:1 for marlin, everyone cracked a beer, slapped high fives and returned to their posts of mixing music, rigging baits or selling Buicks.

Marlin #2 was another typical big fish workout with Rob cranking on the Fin-Nor 50 like a Capuchin monkey grinding on a music box while Mike deftly backed down the fish facing aft, throttling and steering with his back to the controls. I’ve always thought of marlin fishing like a dance. The skipper in lead with the power and control; the angler quick and agile in response to taut or slack line; and the marlin assumes the personality of the other dancers… sometimes moving in sync on the dance floor and often jumping and flailing like a drunken reveler at a Warp Tour show. For this dance, no one stepped on any toes and we were still batting a thousand.

After missing the next two strikes and thoroughly pissing off Mike for dropping to .500, marlin #3 dished up a surprise. Kevin was in the chair fighting another refrigerator sized WWI pith helmet and doing well, though Mike wondered when he was going to “quit fishing like he was painting and boat the sumbitch!” Now if fish could hear, this one worked with Homeland Security because it abruptly turned from 200 meters away and began greyhounding toward the Jodari after Mikes comment. The first jump had our attention and Mikes as he throttled forward. The second jump was 80 meters away and scattered everyone from the fishing area, except for Kevin and Luis, as it became apparent this fish wanted to joust. Breaking water the third time, the marlin was even with the transom, but 15 meters off starboard. “Holy shit Kevin, he came after you,” screamed Rob, as Kevin back the drag off to account for the huge loop in the line. Everyone was flipping out imagining the consequences had the marlin been more accurate in its aim while Kevin and Mike got back in step, and rhythm was restored. Thirty minutes later, Luis leadered the fish alongside the boat and grabbed the bill to retrieve the circle hook. That didn’t sit well with our black knight and the thrashing it delivered to Luis caused him to swear and laugh in delight like only a maniacal icthyophile would.

“Get in the chair Pruter,” yelled Mike with a devilish grin on his wind and sunburned face. “And somebody open the blue drybag,” he added. As a bottle of Chivas and Mikes favorite cigars- Cuban grown but Tico rolled Don Beningno’s- were passed around, Hennessy explained how many trips I had been on but never had a marlin. Luis chirrped in that I was a “gato negro” and could screw up a wet dream. My feeble attempts of defence were met with more ridicule so nothing was left to do but take a slash of fine malt liquor, chomp on the wet end of my blunt and flip off the crowd. No sooner had the insults abated when a monster hit the live skipjack we had been trolling. Luis handed me the rod and slapped me hard on the back laughing darkly as he predicted a long, drawn out fight with me on the losing end. An eruption of water and marlin 100 meters away revealed a huge animal at over 450 lbs. moving toward us. I furiously reeled in slack line and Mike slowly motored forward conspicuously quiet. The whole ordeal was over in less time than the song, Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads. This giant of a fish swam to the side of Jodari like a labrador looking for a belly rub. “He’s hooked in the nuts,” screamed Mike. “Aww, he just knows who he’s dealing with,” I replied, smirking. “I’ve caught garter belts at weddings that put up more of a fight than marlin. What’s the big draw to this sport anyway,” I chided. And to really give it some emphasis, in I jumped in and grabbed the *(%&*(%’ers nuts to look for hook marks. Remembering the gutted remains of our skipjack baits after their marlin assaults quickly had me swimming back to the Jodari for fear of reprisal by my nutless wonder.
Two more blues were released after textbook performances. I’m not sure who fought them as I was in the buzz of good smoke, booze and commraderie. I know it wasn’t Jim as he prefers the battle to take place at the end of a 2 ounce tippet. And it sure as heck wasn’t Morty as he went prone after his marlin fight and never recovered. So, with eight raised and six released, Mike felt redeemed from his previous frustrating charter. We all caught our own asses and then some. Still, on the way back in, when Mike spotted a large log in a current, he cut the engines and tied up a small tackle rig like he had seconds remaining on a timed bomb. “What’s the urgency,” we asked. He replied, “Tripletail… great eating and hard to catch. You only get a coupla casts.” I’m telling you, the man is chronic.

[HOLWACHAGOT]

Fintastic read. Loved the story.
Holwachagot

[gradywhite273]

good stuff mike.

[mike hennessy]

of the marlin is doing a cartoon of this day, should be hilarious cant wait to post it, maybe by the beginning of next week

this crew was so damn funny i had a hard time driving the boat.

mike

[sjogren]

Thanks for the great story!!

[mike hennessy]

thought you were a *#%^#*%^*#^% there for awhile, and you probably are, but sometimes your meds kick in and wammo a nice word comes out.

JK happy turkey day my belly still hurts!!!!!

ps what do you fish for in marthas vineyard, isnt that stripe bass land??

never been to the east coast of anywhere so have no idea

mike

[SeaBiscuit]

Nice story, thanks captain Mike. No wonder you take this fella with you. He can really "see" what's going on out there and recreate it for us with great flair!
Awesome day fishing!
Did you get the tripletail?
SeaBiscuit