Once again we were halibut fishing. I had the clients in
deep water, over 500 feet.
We had a couple nice keepers on board but were still looking
for one more to finish off the day's limit.
One of the rods
snapped down and bowed under the weight of a heavy fish. My youngest client was
manning the rod and leapt into action reeling as hard as he could to set the
hook.
After the hook set
he began the battle of inches to gain line back on the reel. He would crank a
little and the fish would take a lot.
You can tell a big fish almost as soon as it is hooked. The
throb on the rod tip is enormous. A little halibut bounces the rod tip in small
dips. A big halibut will telegraph a couple feet pull down each time the big
fish throbs his tail. I knew this was a big fish.
The young client
would reel the fish twenty feet or so off the bottom, only to have the monster
burn line off the drag and race right back down.
The battle had begun.
Quite some time
later the big fish was nearly half way to the surface and things were going
well. The young client was pacing himself so he did not burn his arms out
reeling in the fish.
I still had the
other clients lines out, as most big halibut are not in our slot limit and must
be released once we determine they are not quite over the 68 inches required to
be a legal keeper halibut.
At last the big fish
was nearing the surface. I had the line in my hands and was slowly hand over
hand bringing it up for our first look. I felt a big throb on the line and knew
it was going to make a run.
"Hang on, it's
going to run," I shouted to the client. He braced himself on the rail of
the boat and just held on to the rod for dear life.
Line was burning off the reel as the big fish made a run.
Pow! The 90 pound braid line parted. The client fell back as
the strain snapped off the rod.
"No!" I
shouted, "It broke the line!"
Very rarely do I
ever have a fish break the line. I have the drags set so that does not happen.
I was consoling the
young man when the clients on the other side of the boat said they had fish on
their lines. I went over to assist. Sure enough both rods were throbbing in the usual big fish pattern. Something did not look right.
Both of their lines went toward the bow of the boat and merged together. There
should be about nine feet between lines, not a triangle look of the lines
coming together.
I raced to the bow
of the boat to see where the anchor line was. It was right under the boat where
the two lines seemed to be heading.
"Oh no," I
moaned. "That fish ran around all the other lines, around the anchor line,
and then snapped off." I grabbed the anchor line and could feel the big
fish throbbing on it.
I raced back to the
clients to inform them.
"We have one
option here," I told them. "We are going to have to pull the anchor
by hand until we get to the tangle. I'm sure the big fish will break the line
before we get to it, but
we have to
try."
I took the young man
and one other client to the bow with me and we began heaving the heavy anchor
line by hand. We would, all three in unison, "heave" and I would
cleat off the line gained.
The next heave and cleat.
At last I looked
down and saw the tangle of lines around the anchor line, and a huge halibut
still hanging as well!
I raced back to the
deck and retrieved a shark hook tied to a long line, and my trusty gaff hook.
Back up front I
informed the two guys that once we tried to lift the big fish out of the water
to try and shark hook it, it would go crazy and probably break the line, but
that was our only option.
We slowly heaved the
anchor line until the big fish's head broke surface. Sure enough, he went
crazy. The line held. I grabbed the line with the gaff and the big fish lunged
ripping the gaff out of my hand.
"Quick, get the net and catch my gaff," I shouted
to the young man. He retrieved the net and made a great snag on the gaff.
"Now I need a knife from the bait bucket," I
pleaded.
I was lying on my belly reaching over the bow pulpit as far
down off the bow of the boat as I could. When the knife arrived I lifted the
big fish up and got the shark hook into its jaw. "Now the knife!"
I cut all the tangled
line and finally had the fish free of the anchor line.
We battled the fish
all the way to the back of the boat and then brought it on board. What a giant.
Stretching a tape on it, it measured 72.5 inches, booking out at about 200
pounds.
I had to go back and
free the other three lines from the anchor line by cutting and splicing, but
knowing we had saved the big fish for the young man was well worth it.
With our final fish
on board we high-fived and headed for town.
