Osprey - 12-20-2008 at 08:31 PM
A new story for the story forum
The Teaser
You know how coincidences seem to line up sometimes, one after another? Well Fred Hettinger, my regular fishing partner was at my gate very early to
tell me he was iffy on our day’s outing. Said he was up half the night with his colitis – so he brought his own truck down to the beach. Sure enough,
he held the painter for me, pushed me off and headed home. That’s how come I ended up fishing alone for a change. First of October in a lot of other
places is pretty cool weather but at East Cape in Baja California the October sun can fry your brain. I have a toldo now, a bimini I guess they call
them but the shade hardly ever gets to me cause this old panga just has an outboard with a tiller, no side or center console. So, what the hell, I’ll
just come back in a little early.
I motored out to the two mile, put out some good dorado lures and turned into the sun for a run out to about eight or nine miles and then I planned to
turn, start my run back southeast. Got two run-outs that didn’t stick and when I checked the lures, put them out again I spotted some spinner dolphin
on the horizon a little further out and west. I changed course, trolled over that way while I found my tuna stuff and hooked a couple onto the
appropriate sticks.
As it happened I hooked up a nice dorado on the way to what I hoped would be tuna feeding with the spinners. By now the sun was high in the eastern
sky and handling the tiller, the rod and gaff on the dorado in that broiling heat had me sweating puddles onto the rear deck. I iced down the fish in
the box – the spinners were close now so I put out the tuna lures and motored east of the front of the herd. It must have been several thousand
animals because I trolled back and forth through them for the longest time. I was so intent on my purpose and so captivated by the spectacle of so
many wondrous marine acrobats I didn’t think to drink or take a bite of breakfast burrito I had prepared the night before.
No tuna. I turned away from the herd and headed northeast for awhile. Then I started seeing billfish – marlin; leaping, splashing, greyhounding. They
were everywhere; at every compass point they jumped and splashed and played. I put more ice on the dorado, popped a beer and sat there at the tiller
just enjoying the show. Suddenly one of the beasts jumped so close to the boat I could see his huge eye and flashing stripes. The splash he made
actually sent a little water over the gunnels and into the boat. Another leap and he was in the boat – he was flailing about, a flashing, slapping
blur of blue-white power. His famous weapon whipped across my ankle, shredding my jeans and ripping a gouge in my skin.
My gloves were forward in my big box of lures and emergency equipment. I know quite well the billfish wound their prey with that wicked sword. They
cripple and maim darting bait fish with precision jabs and chops and sweeps of that death-dealing pick. The bill is not bone. Teeth, denticles, which,
in sharks, become rough and ready skin, build up in marlins and sails to form the perfect death-rasp. Before I could make a move, another sweep of the
lethal bill left a bloody gash on my thigh. Now in a panic and without a real plan I moved away from the slashing bill to make my way forward where I
might get clear, find a weapon of some kind. In the wink of an eye, two powerful flips of the fish’s tail sent him over the side.
For a few moments while I caught my breath I felt light-headed and disoriented. I was weary and confused. I was still on guard, I kept my eyes open. I
saw several more leapers close to the boat as I quickly brought in the lures, turned the boat around, throttled up to plane and headed for home. At
twenty knots the breeze gave me relief from the killing sun. I shook off my stupor and revisited with a clearer head what had just happened. One thing
for sure, I have never seen so many leaping marlin, anywhere, anytime. They must have been schooled up, maybe feeding.
An accident. It was an accident. The big fish, while in the boat, must have been flailing about trying desperately to get back in the water. What of
the all the others splashing the boat? What about my wounds? I’ll check myself once I’m on the beach.
And I did. I found a scrape on my ankle, bleeding stopped. No sign of a wound on my thigh. There was some blood on the rear deck but it belonged to my
catch. What should I tell my wife? What should I tell Fred? Was there a huge fish in my boat? Were all those leapers real? Maybe the sun got to me. If
it did happen, that monster might have killed me. Perhaps his intent was only to wound, tease or torture.
Accidents do happen. All my trolling lures are small and specialized; designed to catch food fish. I’m always prepared to carefully release an
accidental billfish but, from now on, they won’t get off so easy.
Maybe I’ll never really know what actually happened out there – too much sun or a fleeting attack of what I call Nomadness.
[Edited on 12-21-2008 by Osprey]
[Edited on 12-21-2008 by Osprey]
mike odell - 12-20-2008 at 08:41 PM
Osprey;
For sure for the story forum!
I am reading it at the beer joint, watering hole, roadhouse,etc. here in
RB. Good Read.
Mike
Pescador - 12-20-2008 at 08:42 PM
I kept hoping to hear that you subdued the Marlin and got even by taking him home for dinner. As usual a great story, and I think I even got a little
nick on the arm from being there with you.
woody with a view - 12-21-2008 at 08:21 AM
Wow! first, biting dolphins and now ninja billfish??? i'm praying you NEVER encounter a whale in your travels!!!
Iflyfish - 12-21-2008 at 01:09 PM
Great story.
I have had kamloops trout suicide in my boat so can relate on a small scale. Well written as usual, I felt like I was there.
Iflyfish
Sharksbaja - 12-21-2008 at 03:15 PM
Ahhhhh, the master of fish stories does it again! Thanks George.