Fish of a lifetime...

[THE DARKHORSE]

"Three pounds of grey and white matter shape our "reality"---our knowledge, our joys, sorrows and regrets, our imagination, hopes and future plans, our sense of self---and our humanity." We're all wired a little differently, but through the bond of fishing most of us can put our differences aside. For those that can't, wake up and smell the fish! My only hope is that my story will inspire someone to stay those extra few minutes, sometimes that's what makes the difference. Make sure to pack a lunch and bring plenty to drink, load up on sunscreen and remember, the sky's the limit!

I've never seen, oh how shall I say, a more wide array of---styles?---while watching my fellow kayak fishermen. I suppose one's fishing background plays a major role in their daily approach, but I'm often surprised by the variety of styles none the less. I can appreciate the lack of monkey see monkey do mentality and being an only child I can relate. But, when twenty guys are all bendo in one spot in the middle of winter, fishing the bottom with squid, trolling a Rapala might not be the best approach. That said, I really don't know because I've never tried it---might be the hot ticket.

This past Spring I had a guy thirty feet away slapping an 8" slug on the surface for Calico Bass, making plenty of noise for both of us. On a typical day this probably wouldn't have even raised my brow, but how this guy didn't see the schools of fifty pound fish below his kayak, I'll never know. I simply chalked it up to different strokes for different folks and maybe one man's trash is another man's treasure.

I'm sure most guys think I'm nuts when I release twenty pound Halibut or Flounder as I call them, but I don't get the gaff out for any ol' Flounder. A fifteen pound Flounder would be reason to celebrate on the Gulf Coast, a state record indeed, but when you catch your first Halibut over forty pounds, you'll understand. With sore arms from the monster Yellowtail the last few weeks and plenty of White Seabass in the freezer, I set out in pursuit of a new trophy. I've caught a few Halibut over forty in my time and released a number of Flounder this year, but I wanted a monster---a fish of a lifetime.

On this particular day I set out targeting that flat monster, but decided to take advantage of the morning Yellowtail bite. The morning looked promising with a nice current, bait o' plenty and a few hook-ups. Unfortunetly, three Thresher Sharks and a big Black Seabass were on the other end of the line. Mid-day I made that move to a spot where I caught a Flounder last week, where there's one there's more, right? A couple of hours passed without so much as a raked bait and I remembered why I prefer chasing Yellowtail to pounding sand. My mind wandered and patience ran out just as the afternoon current returned. I up and moved right back to the Yellowtail grounds and everything looked perfect: Strong current, bait o' plenty, crashing birds, and quite a few appearances by Flipper and his friends. Everything you could possibly want was in place, but I just had that feeling in my gut, a feeling that apparently wasn't going away. I made that annoying treck right back from where I came---the sandy desert.


Truth is I questioned that decision with every pedal along the way, but I was reminded on my first bait to always, always, always, follow your gut.