11/13 Oh, the heartbreak......and then...

[madscientist]

Long day but I'll cut to the chase. Launched 6:30 into fog, made lizards and macs off the pier, thank goodness for GPS, dragged for nada, trolled for nada, got spooked in the fog, actually wore my lifejacket (for the whistle), out to the half, nothing doing, thought about heading in to catch the late games.

Figured I wanted some rockfish to at least avoid the complete skunk. Hit a few spots on the way in but all I was getting were sand dabs. Had one good thunk on the sabiki that convinced me to move up to a real rockfish rig, but it was dab dab dab.

Head over to the canyon edge for the last hurrah. Drop down and immediately feel the dab nibble. Tap, tap, tap, WHAMMO! A little drag goes out so I'm think big red...

Then the drag starts screaming!

Mind you, I have been dragging macs all day on my heavy gear, but of course, I'm using my saltist 30 on a light jig stick for the rocks. Down well below half a spool and still peeling out, I figure I have to do something quick, so I button down and get my feet in. Yak picks up speed but at least I'm not losing anymore line.

Start gaining ground as I try to think what the hell this could be. Doesn't feel like a yellow because there are no distinct tail thumps, but it was on the rockfish rig so it might be wrapped. I see the fish on the sonar running to the bottom: now I think it might be a BSB. We dance around for 20 minutes and I slowly get it up. A glimpse at first color looks YT. but might be shark, then it runs again. Pump back to color and, holy shit, its a big freakin yellow, well over 30. First pass by the boat I take an ill advised gaff swing, the fish bolts, the line gets caught up in another rod, and the 2/0 octopus hook breaks. I watch the tail swim away. :cry: :cry: :cry:

After a moment of shock the anguish sets in. Sobs and rending of garments. As some of you may know, I indulge in some colorful language on occassion. Well, I unleashed a tirade, directed at myself, that must have caused Satan himself to think "Dude, tone it down". Beside my self with frustration, a little piece of the brain keeps fishing, calling to mind the quote from Jaws my friend Joe recently reminded me of..."You lose one, you rig one".

Attached a new hook and and follow my trail back to the spot, swearing up a storm the whole way. Rebait (cut mac) and drop down, still cussing up a storm. Get down, feel the tap, tap, tap of dab, then........





.....Whammo.....




.....Are you kidding me, are you F-ing kidding me......




I'm on, exactly as before. This time the fish doesn't have a hard initial run, but it is still a 20 minute up and down battle. At color I see the exact same image I saw before, big freaking yellow. This time, I take my time, back off, let it do it's thing, and make sure the gaff sticks. It does...



I am convinced this is the same fish. How many could there in that exact spot? I also am not sure whether he ate the bait, or the sand dab that ate the bait. I think I should go sacrifice a goat or a virgin or something to Poseidon, because he really gave me a break on this one.



Turns out to be my biggest one yet, 37lbs. And I got to fight him twice. As my father used to say, "I'd rather be lucky than good any day". Blew off bugging for tonight in favor of beer, football, and hamachi.