It takes More than Just Mojo...

Went to LJ yesterday, where my heart was
torn apart, three times. The weather was perfect,
the water was glassy, and the swell from the other
day was definitely dying.

The water was so clear on the launch, I saw Corbina
flashing along the surf line. Once I got to the pier,
with lots of bonito carcass, I ran into a friend.

After we both collected over 10 macs apiece, we were off
to fish off the condo, between 50-120 ft. We had the whole
place to ourselves. I kinda like fishing LJ midday, I'm not so
tried when I get home.

My first strike came around 2pm. It was a solid run, and since I was
using a circle hook, I intended to let it run for a few seconds.
But, that was all it took for the yellow to let it go, a few seconds.
After retrivel, I inspected my mac. No evidence of anything other
than a yellow strike. In other words, no teeth marks on the whole, intact,
mac. There's my first lose.

The second strike happened just before the birds showed up and
went wild about 2 miles off the launch. Also, the dophin just set up
anchor as I got bit. I got hit, set the hook, and the fight was on.
I kept thinking, this is probably a bonito. But once it made a mad run
and started wrapping kelp, I knew it was for real.

Now, two dogs bear down on me. And, someone from the dolphin starts calling out my name while cheering me on. The dogs had me spooked, so I tightened my drag in an effort to end the battle and feed my family instead of some fatten up sealion. Ping goes my knot at my swivel. The malign I have for those dogs is growing.

A sling shot is next for me. Plus, this is the
second yellow I've lost to my poor knots. I guess I'm a knot head.
Here's a pic of confusion with the birds, dogs, bonito, yellows, sportsboats, Josh, and some guy in a little dingy who tired giving us shit for fishing on his home turf. Imagine that?

After the frantic fishing was over with, the sportsboats clear, and all that was left, were the dogs staring at me and Josh. Josh made the first move while cleverly dragging a surface iron. Before the dogs figured out what was going on, I hooked up again.

Holy crap, after I put my Penn Senator in gear, my heavy duty pole bent over so far it looked like it was ready to snap. I thought, this has got to be a stupid dog which inhaled my hook. And, now I'm fighting a hooked dog. But I was wrong. After a 10min fight, the yellow came to color and sounded again while accelerating on the Senator's full on, buttoned down drag. It was a beast.

Just as I was thinking, please don't lose this one, I did. My line went "ping" and I just cussed up a storm. I thought my line broke, or knot gave, or something. But it was nothing. I got back everything, including the hook. Oh, well.

I came home with a bonito, which I kissed and thanked the lord for it. Here's what happened to him first thing.

This is typical of what the Hawaiians do with their fresh tuna. It's called Poke (po-key). Unlike how I feel, Pok-me.