Just so you know, I certainly don’t fit into that category – thus my near comatose state at the moment. It’s a 12- to 14-hour marathon that can take down even the most athletic man or woman out there. Over and over this scenario replays itself until the very last minute when you pick up for the run in. In this type of fishing you can’t simply reel in the fish until all the other lines are out of the way, which requires reeling in those other lines as fast as you can so the fish doesn’t tangle everything up.Īdd to that, the ocean was moderately angry, making that task even harder as you struggle to keep your balance. “Fish on!” comes the yell, as the mahi blasts out of the water and the reel sings. In the blink of that very same eye, where there was a blue and white skirted ballyhoo skipping along the deep blue water’s surface, comes a massive explosion of white water. In my case, just when everything is fine tuned, my eye catches a flash of green and yellow 70 yards to my left heading at an impossible speed toward our baits. Trolling with eight lines out takes every ounce of attention and coordination between those aboard. From the moment the first bait hits the water along with several others, it’s a non-stop orchestra for several hours until you head back in. Right about the time the sun peeks over the horizon, it’s all-hands-on-deck. Add to that a sense of anticipation and excitement that curses any idea of catching a catnap on the ride out. The only bright side to this is that hopefully the conditions won’t change during the day, making the run home a breeze as you run with the waves. In this case we all took the waves straight in face. Running anywhere from 60 to 80 miles offshore, the ride all depends on how windy it is (or isn’t) and which direction the waves are coming from.
the alarm clock goes off and you head to the boat. The day before the tournament is spent rigging baits and relining reels as well as a hundred other tasks. If you are thinking “How can fishing possibly make you so tired that you might nod out at the dinner table and go face first into mashed potatoes,” I’ll tell you.
I am comforted knowing 120 others are sharing my pain. The only saving grace is that I know for a fact that I am not alone because there were 30 boats in the tournament with around four anglers per boat. Why you ask? Yesterday I fished in the fourth annual Run For The Bulls mahi tournament, and every part of my body hurts – even my eyeballs. SUBMITTEDĪs I sit down to write this morning it will be interesting to see if my mind and hands will allow me to finish this column. From left are Sebastian Luppino, Terry Philip, Robby Maroudas, Zach Zanzig and Ryan Luppino. The crew of Tuna Hutt with their prize-winning 43-pound bull mahi.
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