So Close, Yet...
THE FINAL MINUTES OF FIGHTING A FISH ARE WHEN THE ACTION REALLY COMES ALIVE.
One of the inane, cruel hoaxes about fishing is that it can take a long time to finally hook the one you want, yet it only takes an instant to have it vanish. The line may break, a knot or splice might fail, the hook can bend or fall out, or countless other things can go wrong. Pre-planning is critical, of course, but every adventure ends with a release, a tagged fish, something for the dinner table, or none of the above.
When you’re going solo, say, casting from the surf for a striped bass or combing the flats for a bonefish or permit, the eyes are on you. But on a boat, it’s a different story, and everyone aboard has a part in the final result. The groups I generally fish with employ a singular plan for success, and it’s based on each person knowing the job they have to do. This not only allows us to increase our chances for catching the fish we want, but also provides additional opportunities for taking advantage of the situation to maximize results, a very important aspect of tournament fishing.
When trolling for school tuna, for example, multiple bites are common, and the best way to fill all the lines with fish is to keep the boat moving so the lures or baits remain in motion to draw more strikes. In the excitement of crashing fish in the wake, some anglers mistakenly cut the throttle to focus on the first hookup. This can prove costly, though, because it’s important to keep tension on the hooked fish and encourage others in the school to follow in pursuit of their kin. Teamwork from the crew helps keep the lines from tangling, work the other rods, fire out fresh baits, and boat the fish as they come within gaffing range.
Tuna are adept at hooking themselves while the rods are secure in the rod holders, but white marlin are more peculiar in their striking mode, with an uncanny eagerness to focus on multiple baits in one fell swoop. Rather than ride around looking for these billfish with the rods stuck in place, better results can often be achieved by holding the rod and keeping your eyes on the baits. White marlin can be fussy, but the one swimming right next to it may have different ideas. If you’re waiting for a call from the bridge that there’s a fish near your bait, you may not get to the rod in time before it changes its mind. Holding the rod all day takes more effort, but an unattended rod is an inefficient way to spend those hours. More importantly, if a pod of curious and hungry fish comes into your trolling pattern, you have a better chance of multiplying the score in a hurry.
The final moments can be a major source of lost fish, among other possible endings. Often an inexperienced crew member will grab the leader on a green fish and attempt to manhandle it toward the boat, only to have it spooked or reenergized by the increased pressure on the line. This adds to the angler’s stress level, and everyone has to refocus. Losing a fish is one thing, but it gets worse in an instant when someone is injured or even pulled overboard if the leader gets wrapped too tight around the mate’s hands, or the line manages to snarl back over the rod tip, endangering both the angler and the deck man if he loses control of the leader. Rushing a fish can make everyone aboard anxious, and when that happens, a badly prepared team can lose its place and make mistakes. A confidently run cockpit is a machine, and each member stays true to their position. This is particularly important when a large tuna or marlin is in sight to be boated, and room is made for the leader man and the gaff man, while everyone else stands clear until the fish is under control.
Caution is well deserved when landing any large fish, and onlookers take a chance if they get too close to the action. Even a boated fish deserves respect. I once watched a 20-pound cobia flip the lid of the transom box with its tail, sending it to the deck with a crash. We were fortunate that no one was hurt.
Sometimes you catch a break. I landed a nice tuna one trip, only to find out after it was in the boat that the snap swivel had opened during the fight. In hindsight, I also reasoned that perhaps I had forgotten to check that it was closed when I tossed the lure overboard. If it were not for the steady pressure on the fish during the fight, dinner that night would have been a sandwich instead of a yellowfin tuna steak. We all get lucky at one time or another, but at the end of the battle, skill will prevail over luck.