You know what they say, everyone complains about peanuts until the donkeys show up.
We had a great day with Chance and Grady on Saturday. Doug @dbaken , Ann, Dave @SteelHeadDave , and I met at the top of the walkway at 5:30, swapping stories in the lightening dark and waiting for the word to head down to the boat. Dave’s Thursday trip had been scrubbed because of the wind and wave forecast, so all of us were more than ready to get offshore.
After the safety briefing, a big scoop of anchovies, and a run southwest with whale spouts on one side and rainbows on the other, Chance gave us the report: the numbers hadn’t been great, but the fish were making up for it in size. Two hours later, we finally had lines in the water, and it didn’t take long before shouts of “fish on”. I think it was a double—maybe even a triple—but I couldn’t pay too much attention because I had a serious fight on my hands. After several hard runs and a long tug-of-war under the boat, Grady finally gaffed the biggest albacore I’ve ever seen.
Then it was back to trolling, and before long we had another multiple hookup. Somewhere in the middle of that fish, I started thinking I really need to do more curls before my next tuna trip. This one absolutely wore me out. On the next troll I had to park myself in one of the seats, trying to catch my breath while feeling equally torn between wanting another and hoping someone else got the privilege.
After we put those first six fish in the box, the ocean went quiet for a couple of hours. Lunch was eaten, birds and porpoises were admired, and sometimes drifted into that half-nap, head-bobbing state where you jolt awake relieved you didn’t drop your rod over the side. Then, just as Chance said we’d need to start breaking things down in a few minutes, my rod went off again. Another tough fight. Chance and Grady started running live bait rods, and Dave and Ann jumped in too. At one point we had four fish on, lost one, picked up another, and still managed to put four more on deck.
The end came all as it always does: a two-hour run back in, settling up, splitting fish, and loading coolers. The three bags I took home totaled about 45 pounds of loins and bellies, which means we’ll be eating very well this year.
We had a great day with Chance and Grady on Saturday. Doug @dbaken , Ann, Dave @SteelHeadDave , and I met at the top of the walkway at 5:30, swapping stories in the lightening dark and waiting for the word to head down to the boat. Dave’s Thursday trip had been scrubbed because of the wind and wave forecast, so all of us were more than ready to get offshore.
After the safety briefing, a big scoop of anchovies, and a run southwest with whale spouts on one side and rainbows on the other, Chance gave us the report: the numbers hadn’t been great, but the fish were making up for it in size. Two hours later, we finally had lines in the water, and it didn’t take long before shouts of “fish on”. I think it was a double—maybe even a triple—but I couldn’t pay too much attention because I had a serious fight on my hands. After several hard runs and a long tug-of-war under the boat, Grady finally gaffed the biggest albacore I’ve ever seen.
Then it was back to trolling, and before long we had another multiple hookup. Somewhere in the middle of that fish, I started thinking I really need to do more curls before my next tuna trip. This one absolutely wore me out. On the next troll I had to park myself in one of the seats, trying to catch my breath while feeling equally torn between wanting another and hoping someone else got the privilege.
After we put those first six fish in the box, the ocean went quiet for a couple of hours. Lunch was eaten, birds and porpoises were admired, and sometimes drifted into that half-nap, head-bobbing state where you jolt awake relieved you didn’t drop your rod over the side. Then, just as Chance said we’d need to start breaking things down in a few minutes, my rod went off again. Another tough fight. Chance and Grady started running live bait rods, and Dave and Ann jumped in too. At one point we had four fish on, lost one, picked up another, and still managed to put four more on deck.
The end came all as it always does: a two-hour run back in, settling up, splitting fish, and loading coolers. The three bags I took home totaled about 45 pounds of loins and bellies, which means we’ll be eating very well this year.
