Giant Blue fin Tuna fishing can kick your ass, and drive your sense
good judgment into a weakened state. Not so much for the fear of economic
loss if the tuna gets away, but because when you fight big tuna.......it
becomes personal!....mano y mano....a primitive vein of ancient ancestors
comes out. The will to win.
     While on a three day tear for giants, we had caught one small 325
LB...returned it to the dock ..were compensated, grabbed some sleep and headed
back out to where trolling was the key.
     If you ever witness a 500+ LB bluefin crashing a squidder bar, you will
be in the same boat as me......blessed! It happens as if things were really
smaller than they are. Maybe more like trolling a rapala for trout.....but
this is not any trout. I was in the tuna tower when I saw it. I know some
appropriate medical tests for heart failure would prove out that mine stopped
for a bit, that very moment. Our reactions were quick and purposeful. The
fish was locked...rod manned...boat in gear. I fought the fish. I realize
as the process continued, just how weak we really are compared to this
incredible swimming behemoth. Without the gearing of these fluid reels and
powerful rods. Without the big, twin screws 36' vessel. Without the
harpoons and gaffs and ropes and on and on. Without all those things, if
left to bare fist it with this creature that we DARE to challenge, we would
be cast aside like a piece of seaweed and left to swirl in the current of its
tail.
     The diesel smell brought me back to the reality of all those devices
here for our benefit ...and so we used them. I fell into the flow of the
fight as quick as I ever had and I can say that I used that 130 as
efficiently as I ever did...rarely did that fish gain an inch on me without
me taking it back on its first pause. Twenty minutes had it boat side. We
made it look easy.........until the miss.
     As the Capt. maneuvered the boat the mate went back to stick the fish
with the harpoon, followed by the traditional gaffs and tailropes. I was
completely composed. Unfortunately that came out to mean the same as relaxed!
When the fish was in perfect range after doing the "circle of death dance"
..he tossed the harpoon and MISSED. The blade scored the monsters back and
the fish rocketed from the side of the boat to an instantaneous 50 mph
dash....with me still connected to it, relaxed. The straps held. Because he
reared me in the seat like a jockey on a horse. Without the belts I would
have easily soared 50 ft out into the sea. The fight was renewed and the
additional 30 minutes put a good hurting on me. The final attempt at freedom
was a blue fin sounding and the gear whined like a violin at the back of the
boat ......straight down. I had the drag up as high as I felt comfortable
but raising the fish seemed impossible. Little by little. Half Cranks.
Finally... Color. At this point the assignments changed. The still furious
Capt. told the mate to take the helm and he manned the harpoon. At this
junction we enter that phase of giant fishing that I had spoke about... Mano
Y Mano....The will to win. My quad muscles showed the power I put behind
raising this fish into harpoon range. But the fish knew what would happen if
it got closer. Its determination to stay down was mind boggling and back
breaking.
     The Capt. was becoming anxious but he knew how sincere my effort was
and was willing to let me make the moves. Suddenly........it just
overwhelmed him. The fish was approximately 5 feet under the water. The
Capt. leaped off the back of the boat, with the harpoon in both hands over
his head and as I saw him begin to enter the water, he thrust
the harpoon downward with all his might and from my view in the fighting
chair...he was gone! The harpoon line whistled off the deck and amidst all
this incredible fury, I heard a line I will never forget.........Head above
water, the Capt. said...Now We Got Him....and we did....560lb. Believe it
.....or not!

Striper Mike