Tidelines – April 11, 2013
My 2013 attempt for the mighty giant was unsuccessful, but as is often the case, adversity can be viewed as an opportunity, and in this case it’s an opportunity for reflection.
Fighting a big bluefin tuna has been on my list for several years now, but I haven’t put together much of an effort to make it happen. The winter months are actually a busy time at Fisherman’s Post, with fishing schools and preparations for the upcoming year of tournaments and printing. It’s more challenging than it should be to get away.
Plus, bluefin tuna fishing is “hero or zero” fishing, so it can be hard to make the commitment to the travel, expense, and time away to chase a single fish that most people go after unsuccessfully. As a busy father of three, I value any time on the water, and while I’ve often wanted to pursue bluefin, I also want to actually catch fish when I get that valuable time away to go fishing.
On a windy morning in late March, though, an offer too good to refuse suddenly came up. Hot bluefin bite out of Oregon Inlet. Wind and seas were going to lay down beautifully the next day. Boat still had permit for one big bluefin, so we could potentially bring in two fish. Ryan White, of Hatteras Jack, needed one more person to fill out the charter, and he was planning on bringing a selection of high-end Century rods to test. So I found myself driving to the Outer Banks an hour or two after his phone call with visions of greatness.
There’s no suspense to this story, as I’ve already told you it was an unsuccessful attempt. When we got out to where the fleet was fishing that day, there were already three boats hooked up, so we knew the fish were there. We tried chunking in the area of two of the hook-ups. We tried trolling ballyhoo. And we even incorporated the tuna stick to splash artificial squid baits on the surface to entice a bite.
Though we ultimately didn’t bring a fish in, we did get a crazy bite: an estimated 300 lb. bluefin crushed a popper that Ryan had cast from the front of the boat. The strike was intense, the fish made a hard run, and about five seconds in the line broke. Otherwise, a mako shark was the entirety of the day’s fishing action.
The opportunity for reflection comes into the story in the early afternoon of this trip. I’ve had it happen before on other trips—it’s when, despite your best mental efforts to the contrary, the feeling of disappointment starts to creep in. Everyone can sense it, but no one dares recognize it out loud.
Everyone from the captain to the mate to the six guys on the charter started the day with nothing but confidence and hope, and I’m a firm believer in the power of confidence and hope, but after hours of patiently doing everything correct without positive results, the reality that this might not be our day can’t help but take hold.
And while no one wants to admit to disappointment, what is recognized out loud (and often repeatedly) is another reality: we should all be happy that we are fortunate enough to be with old and new friends out on the water pursuing what we love. All of the positives are true, but how can you not be disappointed when you truly believed that this was the trip to see a giant bluefin come over the rails.
The disappointment at not catching a bluefin doesn’t dominate the memory of the day, though. The seas were beautiful, the boat was comfortable, the conversations were entertaining, and we saw several small schools of bluefins working the surface.
We also saw at least a half dozen humpback whales over the course of the day, but the most amazing sight came early on the run back from the Gulf Stream to the Oregon Inlet Fishing Center. We slowed down to witness what must have been the three-foot fin of an orca whale working the water’s surface right beside a breaching humpback. Our theory is that the orca was trying to separate mother from calf, and I’ll have that memory forever.
Most of my reflections have no conclusion. There is no equivalent of the Maury Povich “Final Thoughts.” I just thought it interesting to think about the disappointment side of fishing.
My next trip? As a contrast, I want to catch a lot of fish, so I think I’ll go and try to catch and release some of those endangered black sea bass. I hear there’s a few in the 3-10 mile range.
