Ding Ding Ding...The alarm sounds off as I shuffle to end the noise. 3 a.m. comes early, though my anxiousness has kept me awake most of the night. I stumble around the bedroom trying to find my good luck shirt and a comfy pair of shorts.

I grab a quick bite to eat, usually a boiled egg or a bowl of cereal. It"s not much, but it will keep me going for the long ride ahead. I ramble through my belongings trying to make sure I haven"t forgotten anything, and towards the truck I go. It"s Saturday morning and we"re going to the reef.

{mosgoogle right} I wonder what the day has in store for us while going down the road. The road is so empty its almost a disturbing silence as I try to gather my thoughts. Soon I pull into the drive, silently cursing the bumpy road on the way to the house. I can see the light on outside from a short distance, and I wonder to myself if they had as little sleep as I did.

I pull up beside the shed and I notice it is already unlocked, and shortly afterwards the pitter patter of Mike's feet is startling as he sneaks up behind me. I's almost comical to see him moving around in a sleepy daze, not completely sure what�'s going on yet. We begin to load up the boat, which doesn't take long. All having the same goal in mind, we work in harmony as if we had been doing it for years, all knowing what had to be done without speaking a word. By 4 a.m. we are ready to go. The boat is loaded, cooler full of drinks, and bait thawing in the front compartment. It was time to make that long haul to the place we had been waiting all week to go.

Finally we were on the road. No one says it out loud, but I know everyone is thinking it. Jim and I pass small conversation, as we are both still sleeping on the inside. Mike usually lasts a few minutes before he takes advantage of the large backseat which doubles as a bed for him.

With the help of large quantities of Pepsi, we gradually become more and more alert. The conversation turns to the fishing trip itself as we near our destination. From time to time, Mike will pop up from his slumber and ask how far we are. Silently Jim and I laugh as our response is always another hour regardless of how far or close we are.

Discouraged and irritated, he assumes his position back on the seat for another nap. As we near the inlet, we can smell the salt in the air and feel the cool breeze off the water. I begin to wonder if I remembered everything and ponder how the day will go; hoping the water isn't too rough. Before much longer, I' making that last right turn. We have arrived, what a relief.

Before we unload the boat, we make our ritualistic stop by our favorite little tackle store about a mile up the road. We usually beat him to the store, making any final adjustments to the boat while we wait. More so than anything, it's nice to be able to stretch the legs and take a quick bathroom break.

When Tom pulls in, it's a sigh of relief. We walk in behind him as he unlocks the door, and when the lights flip on we all just kind of stand there in a state of "awe". The walls and floor is packed from top to bottom with everything an angler could want. Rods, reels, hooks, line, and the occasional item we haven't seen before.

The temptation of all the great products in that little store is almost overwhelming, and I softly giggle as I look at Jim, knowing he's feeling the same way. After a minute, we get focused on the issue at hand. It's usually mud minnows and the occasional hooks or something small that we need. Now that we're all baited up and iced down, it's time to hit the water.

It's only a 2-minute ride from the tackle store to the landing, but a nerve racking one. By this time I've got my game face on. We pull into the landing, which is usually pretty quiet that time of morning. It's a sweet serenity as the wind blows softly over the marsh.

I pull the truck up to get it strait, and Jim takes the wheel. Mike and I climb aboard, scrambling to get the rods up and make any final touches to the electronics. I trim up the motor and down we go, waiting to get the boat afloat. I give the key a quick turn and VROOM...the motor cranks without a hitch.

There's something about the sound of an outboard motor that gets my blood flowing. As always, the Evinrude 150 is purring like a kitten, and I anxiously await the moment when I can put the hammer down and let loose some of those ponies.

As I back the boat around, I ask Mike "you going to catch the dock this time, or are you going to be too scared?" Down deep inside I know he won't be able to do it, but maybe one day the hard time he gets will help him to overcome some of his fears. This is a philosophy that Jim and I share alike, and we have an unspoken cooperation that maybe one day it will pay off.

As I ease the boat toward the dock, and I wait patiently to see if maybe Mike'll catch the dock this time; however, I grin as the boat gives the side a gentle bump and continues along the dock. Maybe next time I think to myself.

Finally, with the boat tied off, Mike is quick to get his cast net out. He always asks if he can throw it. Though I knew he wouldn't catch much during the high tide, I still encouraged him to practice while the dock wasn't busy. He still hasn't quite got the hang of it yet.

While Mike plays catch with the local forage, I wander my way to the truck to relieve Jim of his position behind the wheel. I quickly stomp on the gas as the excitement has set in now. I pull in, hop out, and lock the truck; we're almost on the way!

My walk back to the boat soon turns into a run, but that doesn't last long. My run turns into a stumble, as my flip-flops don't agree with my speed. Finally back to the boat, it's time to head out.

Now we're ready. Mike unties the boat from the dock, I give a turn of the key, a quick shove and off we go into the wild blue yonder. I turn the VHF to channel 71 to see if my buddy is on the water, but more so to check the radio to make sure it is functioning properly.

I keep a close eye on the fish finder as I glance around the boat to make sure there is nothing loose that can flop around and injure someone. The job of a skipper is never done. I think to myself from time to time, wondering if Mike understands the immense responsibility when skippering a boat. I know that one day he will be old enough to go out on his own, and I hope he is watching me closely.

It's almost nerve racking for me at times, knowing that the safety of the people on board is my responsibility. Aside from my thoughts, I notice Jim sticking hooks on his rod already. He always says he likes to be the first in the water, and he always did succeed at that. I'm always the last in the water, go figure.

By this time, we are nearing the mouth of the jetties. Like clockwork, and with out being asked, Mike is digging the life jackets out of the front of the boat. We all have a certain respect for the ocean, as we all found out how quickly her mood can change on a previous fishing trip. Calm water can become the finder of God with no notice, and it takes no prisoners. We all agree it's best to respect that often-overlooked fact of nature.

Now that we're all set, the boat has been looked over, and everyone is in place, I lay the hammer down and put the ponies to the prop. I had already picked a structure to navigate to and pre-programmed it in on the way through the jetties. It was just a matter of time now, and we'd be fishing.

The water was calm and the ride was peaceful for a change. The sun peeking over the water painted a majestic portrait for the short ride out. We dodged a light, salty spray as I zig-zagged through the swells on our way to Paradise Reef. A quick glance at Mike and I noticed the same cheesy smile he always has when he knows we're almost there. We all look on with anticipation as we near our famed destination.

In the horizon, I can see the reef markers; and soon afterwards the GPS gives me a beep letting me know we are there. I kick the boat down to an idle as we all peel off the life jackets and jump to our feet. The hardest part of the trip is finding the structure and finding the fish; consequently, both of which are my responsibility.

Once in the general area, I made a few passes and finally noticed the reef on the fish finder. I swung the boat around for one more pass, marked the structure on the GPS, and dropped the anchor on my first try. With the anchor down, it was time to get some hooks wet.

Of course Jim already had his rod ready, and was the first to get his hook baited up and in the water. I always laugh at him because the majority of the time he doesn't wait for the boat to spin around, and ends up reeling his line right back in. Once the boat was in it's final resting place, I began to rig up my small bottom fishing pole.

Before I could get my line in the water, Jim had reeled up a pin fish. I quickly made a decision to stick a hook in his back (the fish) and send him out on a balloon.

Throughout the morning, we caught a few pin fish from time to time, but nothing extraordinary to speak of. That pin fish had been on the balloon for nearly 2 hours, without so much as a sniff from a larger fish. With the bottom fish not biting very well, I think we were all getting a little discouraged.

Before long, Jim suggested we move to another spot, and I graciously humored his thoughts and pulled up anchor. Around and around we went and again I found the structure and anchored us off. If nothing else, I was impressed with the performance of our new anchor. It was at this new spot we would be in for a big surprise though.

Once we were anchored off, I decided to check the balloon rig that had been following us behind the boat while we moved. To my surprise, I reeled it in only to find a dead pin fish with the tail bitten off. "Go figure," I thought to myself.

Shortly after pulling up that rig, Jim caught the first Black Sea Bass of the day and suggested we try it on a balloon. I thought, "What the hell, it might just be what the doctor ordered".

I unhooked the bass from his rod and stuck two treble hooks in his back; and then gave him a mighty toss into the water. My mighty toss wasn't so mighty as the bait landed only feet from the boat. But seconds later, I saw a dark, mysterious shadow in the water that looked to be 5 feet long!

It was long and slender, with a pointy head. Next thing I knew, I saw a huge mouth open wide and suck down that poor, helpless sea bass. After watching him gorge on the bait, I gave the rod a hefty jerk hoping to lodge the 2/0 treble hooks into his bony jaw.

"It's a huge King!!!!!" I belted loudly with excitement. The second those hooks pierced his frail skin, it made a quick, short run. I handed the rod to Mike and the unexpected happened.

Before I could say a word, I saw a huge flash come out of the water. I watched speechless as the monster fish hurled over the boat. He missed Mike's head by no more than a foot and Jim's head by no less when it landed on the other side of the boat.

I was laughing with excitement as Mike thought the fish was still on the other side of the boat, not realizing that he had just jumped over us. Jim didn't realize what had happened either, as he exclaimed "I heard the splash, was that his fish!"

I quickly grabbed the rod and darted to the other side of the boat, frantically reeling up the slack as I went. I was worried that the fish had thrown the hooks as there was much slack in the line. To my surprise, the slack disappeared and the fish was still on.

I quickly handed the rod back to Mike and he battled the fish tooth and nail. On two separate occasions the fish ran under the boat and I had to weave the rod under the anchor line. It was such a thrill to see the light in Mike's eyes as the large, torpedo-like fish stripped line off the reel in a sports-car fashion.

I watched as Mike was shaking with excitement and fear. After about 10 minutes, he had battled the fish to the side of the boat. I stood ready with gaff in hand, hoping to make an easy pick of the large fish. None of us had really seen the fish up close, other than when it had jumped the boat earlier in the flight; but that happened so fast it was hard to make anything out.

I heard Jim shout "I see color!"

I did as well, but I was silent in awe as the moment progressed. Soon the fish rolled up on it's side in plain view. "It's a Great Barracuda!!!!!" I shrieked.

I was lost in amazement, the whole time I thought it was a huge king. I knew in my mind that Barracuda shouldn't be in this close, and it was at that moment I realized that I had never seen a King get air borne like this did. No matter, I wasn't going to let his first barracuda get away.

The fish slowly made passes on his side, and at my first opportunity, I stuck him in his broad side and watched as the deadly accuracy of the sharp tipped gaff pierced his fleshy shoulder. At this point I knew I had him, or he had me, however you wanted to look at it.

I took a breath and huffed as I attempted to drag the 5-foot beast over the high rails onto the boat. During this process, a rouge wave struck and I stumbled as the heavy carcass of the fish slid over the rail. I still carry the a small scar on my right leg where the incisor of the Great Barracuda grazed me on the way down. I suppose we were even now.

All three of us stood in awe as the monster lay still in the bow of the boat. I noticed Mike's hands trembling with disbelief. We stuffed him into the front console until we knew the fish was lifeless and unable to do us any harm.

While we all captured the moment, I thought of how lucky we were during the fight. A fish that size and that powerful can do a lot of damage to an unlucky onlooker.

If there was ever a question of the massive size of this fish, it's picture is worth a thousand words. Nothing could take the glory away from us that day. For us, for a single moment in time, we were the kings of the sea.

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Joey   |2008-06-06 12:44:02 Killer Story, sounds like a blast Reply 0   0

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3.25 Copyright (C) 2007 Alain Georgette / Copyright (C) 2006 Frantisek Hliva. All rights reserved."