Gaffes Gone Wild (8/29/09)

I was up at 3:30 AM, as each departure is earlier than the last in an attempt to catch the morning whitey bite, which, given the fact that no East Pass Marina boat has caught a white marlin before 10 AM this entire season, may be a futile pursuit of a myth. We were on the dock at 4:30 AM for a 5:00 AM departure for the Nipple. The Tokyo Express running the Slot from Rabaul to Guadalcanal and back has nothing on the brave boys from East Pass Marina when it comes to running in the dark, except, of course, we need not fear American cruisers waiting for us at Iron Bottom Bay, PT boats (like Lieutenant Jack Kennedy's good ol' PT 109) lying in ambush along the way, or air attack if we are not out of range of the aircraft at Henderson Field by dawn. Other than that, it is pretty much the same. Today the East Pass Express sailed in the Blue Heaven, a 45 Cabo Express, captained by Drew Mitchell, with Bart Mitchell running the cockpit. The balance of the crew were myself, Steve Roddenberry, and George Alford. We put our lines in the water at 0715 near the Nipple. The weather was partly cloudy, with a light breeze and seas two feet of less. Conditions remained gorgeous all day. If the signature element of a Wayne Lewis spread is the big blue marlin lure, it is the teasers in a Bart Mitchell spread. There was a squid teaser on the left, a bowling pin chain running off the left corner, a double dredge off the right corner, and a flying fish teaser on the right . And there were six hooks in the water - a lure short left, a skirted ballyhoo long left, a skirted bonito strip down the center, a lure long right, a skirted ballyhoo short right, and a small naked ballyhoo running off the tip from the chair at the end of the white water in the wake.At 0830, the center line went off, and I took the rod. It was a decent sized bull dolphin, but no match for the 50 he hit, so he came to the boat without much ado. Bart leadered him, and Steve, who had come down from the tower, took the gaff. Bart pulled the fish ahead as pretty as you please, and Steve commenced the flail away at him. He looked more like he was hoeing taters than gaffing a fish. Three, four, five attempts. I looked at Bart. Bart looked off at the hoizon. Finally, on the sixth attempt, Steve finally hit the fish dead bang in the middle, instead of in the gills, and swung him into the boat spewing blood like a water sprinkler. After the lines were back in the water, I thought I should encourage Steve, so I said, "Look, Steve, everyone has to learn, and not everyone does things the same way. Next time, in the interest of increased efficiency and to save time, I suggest you turn the gaff around and just beat the freakin' fish to death with the handle." Mentoring is an important element offshore fishing. Between 0900 and 0930 we caught two nice wahoo near a yellow bucket. The first hit the small lure on the left short, which was still on a 50. George did a good job winding in his first wahoo, about which he was quite pleased. Bart leadered the fish, and I gave him a third ear with the gaff. As I swung him into the fish box, Steve said, " Well, hell, anybody can gaff a wahoo. They aren't as slippery as dolphin." And Drew added that he would like to see me do it twice. We had not cleared the strip on the long center line, and, when we put the boat in gear to resume trolling, a nice wahoo ate the strip and took off, but he didn't go far, as he, too, was on a 50. Steve fought this fish well, and while he was winding him in a third wahoo came slashing in and cut through the leader on the right short. Now I am not saying this was a rescue attempt, because, after all, we are talking about fish, but the timing certainly suggested purpose. While the would be rescuer probably was trying to figure out what leader needed to be cut to save his friend, Steve brought his friend to the boat, where I did Drew one better by performing gaff cataract surgery on this fish. (This was actually a gaffing gaffe on my part, as I aimed for the gills, hit him in the eye instead, and only missed gaffing the line by inches, but I did not feel compelled to admit the error to my admirers.)At 1020, we had an open water wahoo bite on the right long, that cut the bait off right behind the hook. By 1030, the initial adrenaline rush had subsided. We settled in for the long haul, and headed for the Elbow. There were several little pushes, some with weed, but they did not produce fish. Soon, however, we turned back toward the Nipple because of green water. At 1400, we stopped on a big weed patch on a good weed line, and Bart caught a big triple tail on with a spinning rod, casting from the bow. I also saw a huge leatherback turtle near this weed line, one of two I saw from the cockpit during the day. Drew said he saw a dozen from the tower, feasting on jellyfish and living large in every sense of the word. An hour later, just after 1500, there was another dust up. A fair size bull dolphin hit the lure on the short left, which is a fish killer that I intend to steal from Bart, and a small cow ate the small naked ballyhoo running short down the middle. I took the bull, and George the cow. My dolphin was not that big, but he was a hoss, pulling drag on the 50 like a big boy. He went right, and we soon had three lines crossed. The cockpit tango, or un-tango, commenced. Over, under, and over, and we were clear. I thought we would be able to take the fish on the right side, but, at the last second, he turned and dove under the double dredge, which had not been clared. I had to pass the 50 under the dredge tether. I was so worried about dropping the rod and reel in the water that I made another mistake. As I leaned down over the stern and passed the rod from my right hand to my left under the tether, the tether caught the drag, and knocked the reel out gear, creating an instant bird's nest in the line as the dolphin made a last effort to live. Fortunately, I put the reel in gear fairly quickly and the fish surged, but did not run. I brought him back to the left side of the cockpit where it had begun, and where an opportunity for redemption awaited Steve Roddenberry, who stood there with the gaff, grinning. Bart leadered the fish. This time Steve waited for his shot, and he stuck the dolphin on his first attempt - dead bang in the middle. Around 1530, big yellow fin tuna were busting all around us but we could not induce a bite despite Bart's best bait changing efforts and Captain Drew's determined pursuit of them. At 1445 we picked'em up, and ran the two hours home, where Mary was waiting with rum and a cigar for me, and Mama Melanie Mitchell had a low country boil on the dock waiting for all of us. I love fishing.