joel
09-20-2005, 12:14 PM
seeing as how everyone withing earshot of me has heard this story already, i though i'd let the rest of the world in on how the first few hours of my birthday went....
The morning started off…a mixed bag. I was OTW at 6 am. It was very foggy and slightly breezy. I tried to find birds\blitzes, but no luck. Switched around lures for a while and settled on a white zara spook. Was drifting between a mainland point and an island, casting over a shallow 3’ shoal surrounded by rocks. Plurp, plurp, BAM! Fish on. Thought it was a bass at first, turned out to be a #5 blue. Carefully managed to get it into the kayak, get the trebles out, and then stow the fish behind my seat. I continued to work towards the island, and spooked some fish along the way that were feeding or lazing on the surface. It was low tide, and there wasn’t much water or current along the rocky face of the island. 30 minutes later I got a nice strike from a small bass..maybe 16”, and a little later, missed another one…both were tight up against the rocks in the foam of the breaking surf. Checked my watch and saw it was getting late, so I tossed a 6” fin-S behind the yak and began to work my way around the island and back to the car. I must have been trolling for about 20 minutes when the rod slumped over in about 5’ of water. The way it was bowed over, with no drag slipping from the reel, had me fairly convinced that I had hooked the bottom, but I pulled the rod from the holder, I felt life at the other end of the line. Slowly, the kayak turned counterclockwise as the fish bore down and slowly swam off. There were no headshakes or panicked runs of a small fish: just a heavy, heavy weight that would bolt 5'-15’ every now and then, which had me continuously checking my drag to make sure my line wouldn't pop from a fiercer run. This felt like the best fish i had hooked all season long. A few minutes ticked by and I slowly began to close the distance between the kayak and the fish. I was starting to get worried…the kind of sick feeling that comes with the fear that the fish would break off before I got a chance to boat it…or even see it. I calmed down and focused on tiring the fish, switching the angle of the line so I was pulling its head sideways and making it work hard against my pressure at all times. Looking up, I saw that the fish had dragged me about 100 yards, and uncomfortably close to a line of lobster pot buoys. The buoys worried me but I’d been keeping heavy pressure on the fish since i'd hooked it and was afraid to push harder: the rod had been swept into an exaggerated “U” since I’d hooked up and the line was near that point where it would hum from the tremendous pressure it was under. Slowly, the gap between us began to close. 30’…25’…20’…15’…I was getting close to the fish and strained to see through the dark water for a glimpse of it. And then the line went slack. That was it: the line had broken..severed clean, with no signs of chaffing, or the tell-tale pig-tail of a bad knot. I screamed something blue…I don’t think I’ve been as upset about losing a fish since I lost a big rainbow at my feet when I was 15. Several nights earlier, i had asked 2 seasoned anglers about their most memerable lost fish. At the time, i didn't have much of an answer to that same question. I got one this morning...
The morning started off…a mixed bag. I was OTW at 6 am. It was very foggy and slightly breezy. I tried to find birds\blitzes, but no luck. Switched around lures for a while and settled on a white zara spook. Was drifting between a mainland point and an island, casting over a shallow 3’ shoal surrounded by rocks. Plurp, plurp, BAM! Fish on. Thought it was a bass at first, turned out to be a #5 blue. Carefully managed to get it into the kayak, get the trebles out, and then stow the fish behind my seat. I continued to work towards the island, and spooked some fish along the way that were feeding or lazing on the surface. It was low tide, and there wasn’t much water or current along the rocky face of the island. 30 minutes later I got a nice strike from a small bass..maybe 16”, and a little later, missed another one…both were tight up against the rocks in the foam of the breaking surf. Checked my watch and saw it was getting late, so I tossed a 6” fin-S behind the yak and began to work my way around the island and back to the car. I must have been trolling for about 20 minutes when the rod slumped over in about 5’ of water. The way it was bowed over, with no drag slipping from the reel, had me fairly convinced that I had hooked the bottom, but I pulled the rod from the holder, I felt life at the other end of the line. Slowly, the kayak turned counterclockwise as the fish bore down and slowly swam off. There were no headshakes or panicked runs of a small fish: just a heavy, heavy weight that would bolt 5'-15’ every now and then, which had me continuously checking my drag to make sure my line wouldn't pop from a fiercer run. This felt like the best fish i had hooked all season long. A few minutes ticked by and I slowly began to close the distance between the kayak and the fish. I was starting to get worried…the kind of sick feeling that comes with the fear that the fish would break off before I got a chance to boat it…or even see it. I calmed down and focused on tiring the fish, switching the angle of the line so I was pulling its head sideways and making it work hard against my pressure at all times. Looking up, I saw that the fish had dragged me about 100 yards, and uncomfortably close to a line of lobster pot buoys. The buoys worried me but I’d been keeping heavy pressure on the fish since i'd hooked it and was afraid to push harder: the rod had been swept into an exaggerated “U” since I’d hooked up and the line was near that point where it would hum from the tremendous pressure it was under. Slowly, the gap between us began to close. 30’…25’…20’…15’…I was getting close to the fish and strained to see through the dark water for a glimpse of it. And then the line went slack. That was it: the line had broken..severed clean, with no signs of chaffing, or the tell-tale pig-tail of a bad knot. I screamed something blue…I don’t think I’ve been as upset about losing a fish since I lost a big rainbow at my feet when I was 15. Several nights earlier, i had asked 2 seasoned anglers about their most memerable lost fish. At the time, i didn't have much of an answer to that same question. I got one this morning...