Sunday, January 21, 2007
In the outdoors I find my release. It is through my experiences in the wild that I find peace, happiness, and freedom. In my adventures I can test myself, push the limits, reach goals, and share my passions with others. Whether fishing offshore or hiking a mountain trail I often have run-ins that help me understand what it is I love and strive to reach in life. The personal growth and fulfillment I experience during my travels to places such as Africa and Alaska serve as the grounding toward everything I represent. Without meeting different people, walking distant landscapes, and exploring far waters I would feel suffocated and deprived of what I was put on this earth to experience. It was one of these places twenty-miles south east of Nantucket Island with my two best childhood buddies that such high standards were met.
Running fifteen knots over the building five-foot ocean swells Iliamna fought her way through the maze of confused ocean ahead of her bow. A brisk wind blew hard from the East, keeping us all weary about the prospect of venturing offshore. It was 5:30 a.m. and were shedding early morning funks, allowing are surroundings to do it for us. After about an hour of travel the tiny speck of Nantucket was gone and we were left with nothing but water and sky. Constantly checking our position on the GPS we cruised forward through an empty ocean just waking up from a dark night. To the East a savannah red sun etched closer toward warming the Atlantic, illuminating the few broken clouds above with an orangish red tint. The warm offshore water bubbled and foamed all around us as waves crashed and our bow cascaded down steep troughs. Occasionally a spray of water would fly into the cockpit and deck keeping me focused. The air was warm with a hint of summer humidity but the strong wind and rough seas told us to keep our jackets on. It was the 5th Annual Nantucket Shark Tournament and nobody but the eighteen “salty” boats were offshore that day. It was rough but the engine sang sweet songs as we pressed on wary but confident towards blue water. Peering into the water I quickly recognized warmly the sight of deep blue ocean water. Offshore water has always interested me. Its color is very distinct from that of inshore waters. It has an inviting clarity yet a deep blue that says use caution. I always know when we have hit “blue water” by looking into the wake. The white bubbles generated from the prop show white like pearls against the royal blue water. The difference is clear as day. It always surprises me how much life begins out here. After miles of travel you suddenly find yourself amidst a surplus of life that seems to come out of nowhere. Large amounts of bright yellow Sargasso weed float on the surface attracting vast schools of baitfish casting silver reflections through the clear water. Storm petrels and huge ocean going Gannets with their distinctive markings weave through the swells. It is not uncommon out here to come across: dolphins, basking sharks, tuna, and ocean sunfish all within a mile of trolling a desired temperature break or underwater ridgeline. This is where you want to be.
Gordon’s Gully is a stretch of the second most inshore ridgeline along the continental slope. It has a serious of small narrow canyons that break into a shallow plateau. This rising bottom structure forms a constant upwelling of current. Riding in these currents are numerous types of nutrients that in turn attract plankton, that in turn give way to small fish, eventually bringing in large predatory species, a food cycle is born. The ridge also acts as a meeting place for warm offshore Gulf Stream waters and colder inshore Labrador Current waters. The clashing of these two unique currents create a bountiful relationship for wildlife to do wild things. Among the thousands of natural occurrences here, this is where the members at top of the food chain often feed.
Once reaching the Gully I pulled the throttles back surfing the boat smoothly to a cruising speed. As the boat slowed the churning wake behind us rushed into the stern sending a thin layer of warm water snaking its way to our bare feet on deck. The temperature gauge read 66 degrees and climbing. It is always a good feeling just before you start fishing. When you arrive at your chosen spot all the work to get there disappears and the excitement for the what is ahead takes over. As the gauge continued to climb and the fish finder in my head said to stay, we began are stakeout. We were after the oceans most formidable predator. The fastest shark in the ocean and by all accounts the most aggressive. The mako shark does not mess around. The plan was to drift along the ridgeline using the current to carry us over six miles of prime mako territory. After monitoring the temperature break and drift direction, we where ready to get into it.
We would fish four lines. All of which are strategically placed throughout the entire water column. When shark fishing it is crucial to cover different depths. Sharks especially large individuals often prefer cooler waters swimming just on or below the thermocline in most cases deeper than fifty feet. A bait directly off the bottom is deployed for large threshers that patrol over the sandy bottom hording schools of squid and mackerel. Closer to the surface are the more pelagic species. Blue and Mako sharks. Although both blues and makos are often found stalking below the theromocline. We began to break out the heavy artillery. Sharking entails a lot of gear. All of which must be the strongest and baddest equipment out there. The list includes: uncutable wire, large stainless steel hooks, big gaffs, hardy gloves, specialized big-game rod and reel, heavy weights, full tank of gas, reliable GPS, fresh bluefish, more fresh bluefish, and huge balls. Within twenty minutes we had a steady chum line flowing from our stern and four fresh bloodied bates soaking right were we wanted them. If there where sharks here, we where catching them. Almost immiedalty after setting up my eyes zeroed in on a blue shark, aggressively testing one of the balloons used as floats on the surface. Keenly zipping around the float, fins whipping above water. Blue sharks are beautiful. They have a deep indigo blue covering on the upper body. The blue blanket covering them abruptly ends turning into a bright white belly with a silver streak separating the two. They have long pectoral fins that stick straight out like airplane wings while swimming. There movements seem to always flow with the water around them. They are very curious and investigate anything floating on the surface. On some days blue sharks swarm around the boat coming from all directions teaming up in packs upon any food item around. Blue sharks are the most common, mass transit sharks of the northeast. We were after the illusive mako. Makos are fast, and focused. They are extremely bold and aggressive making them a top predator in the world’s oceans. They travel alone hunting large oceanic prey such as marlin and tuna. Perhaps the most dangerous trait of the mako is that they are always ready to go. Their gloves are always on. Makos have a mind of their own and react to every situation quickly and violently. Each mako seems to have its own personality. One thing remains the same for every individual however. They do not mess around and when it comes down to their personality they are just downright nasty. It is there unpredictable nature that gives them their ominous reputation among those who have been in the presence of these amazing creatures.
A few hours go by and we have two blue sharks and a decent mako under out belt. After drifting over the entire ridgeline we bring in out gear. Moving back toward the east side of the wall. Charging through the near vertical swells we pound are way eastward. With every wave water drenches the cockpit. The hull shuddering as waves pound against our progress. I push the throttles forward keeping course, sending the bow soaring into the air into the onslaught of waves. I’m having a good time. There are few things comparable to big seas, blue water, and ocean spray flying everywhere that gets me goin.
After the thirty-minute joyride the GPS puts us back on the East Ridge. I pull the throttles back, cut the engine and get are lines and chum back in the water. Are spot had sharks, good temperature, and fast water. Within twenty minutes we had out first hit. Fast little run-offs characteristic of a small mako. After she mangled three of our baits perhaps getting her fill, she disappeared. Whenever there’s a mako around large or small the deck always stands on their toes. A rush of adrenaline rushes through you as you scan the blue for that streaking blur to flash before you. “Mako, Mako, Mako”, Darren yells as he chums over the side of the boat. “It just shot right across behind”, us pointing to a chum riddled area of water just five yards from the stern. “It was big, it just flew by, out of nowhere.” Now we where all enraptured with the events unfolding before us. Knowing that a large mako had crashed the party our nerves began to anxiously dance. A few minutes went by, nothing but the sound of breaking waves, wind, and a desolate chum line. BOOM, the rod on the surface cracked down sending a screech into the air as line ripped off the real. Jimmy pounced on the rod and got ready to set the hook. Battling first time shark fishing jitters he had to redeem himself from a mako he had missed earlier in the day. After a few long seconds the line was still flying off the real. It was time to go, “Lock up the drag! Wind, Wind, Wind!!!” The line came tight and Jim pulled back with a solid succession of heaves. There was no mess up this time, we where on to a monster. This is what you travel twenty miles offshore for in shitty conditions, large sharks and incredible experiences. The freight train on the other end of the line continued steadily dumping line off the reel five minutes into the fight. It was time to start the engines.
A brief moment of chaos and panic set in as we scurried around the boat setting up tail ropes, clearing the deck, and going through scenarios. Although having extensive knowledge and time spent working on the water with similar animals this would be the first time I have attempted to deal with one muscle to muscle. The first time trying to land a mako shark, never the less one of this size. I turned quickly into the cockpit to work on tail ropes. A few seconds later Jimmy and Darren let out a serious of yells and holy shits. The mako catapulted out of the water slamming through any oncoming waves sending a shower of violent water high into the air. It’s powerful tail beating profusely, pushing its twisted bulk forward above the waves. A mako suspended in the air is an image very few will ever have the privilege of seeing, it is something im sure they will remember for the rest of their lives. By the time I looked up all that was left was a large hole of angry ocean where the shark crashed down. At this moment a primal feeling of urgency shot through the boat. How are we going to deal with this? Are we ready? With only one relatively small gaff for sharking and a self-made tail rope it was going to be an enormously large undertaking. Staying safe was the only immediate goal in all of out heads. You could feel the danger.
The best strategy to deal with a shark like this is to tire him out. Back in for a long epic fight between shark and boat and wait until she is ready. The biggest mistake you could make out here is attempting to take a shark that isn’t ready to go. Sticking a gaff, leadering a shark, or trying to tail rope a hyped up mako is the biggest invitation for trouble you could order. A reaction to anyone of these actions could mean a direct attack on the boat, a shark to jump into the boat, or the line to snap in a boat side flip out no equipment can really handle. The speed, teeth, and nature of the shark force you to wait. There are hundreds of stories from experienced fisherman of freak accidents and amazingly scary situations occurring while dealing with makos. Everything from people getting pulled over board to large sharks grey hounding across the surface into the boat. Makos are smart.
Jimmy struggled to hold his ground against the building seas and slippery deck. Sharks fight unlike any other species of game fish. They have a constant pull that can wear a strong back down in minutes. They take off on blistering runs that can erase in seconds a half an hours worth of gained line. The biggest problem for the angler is brute strength. A mako shark is primarily made up of muscle; they are designed for speed and endurance. When fighting one on rod and reel the task is nothing short of exhausting. You are going up against an animal that is built to kill and dominate in the world’s harshest environment. Twenty minutes into the fight the mako showed no signs of fatigue. As the excitement of the hook-up wore off we settled in for the fight and I turned my attention toward Jimmy. Although already knowing what to do it is always good to keep the angler aware of all the scenarios. If the shark runs, let him go. If he runs hard, loosen the drag. When he slacks up and uses the current let him have it. If he jumps keep the line tight. If he swims toward you, wind like hell to catch up. Most important, feel the shark out; know what he’s doing. Unlike blue sharks makos turn on a dime and go from a complete standstill to thirty miles an hour in a second. They have the ability to know where you are and what you’re doing. When a mako is near the boat its eyes stay on you.
After forty minutes of give and go the shark appeared in full view for the first time. With its massive bulk the mako circled confidently around the boat. It’s snarled teeth stood out like pearls. There was no worry in her movements, no hint of intimidation. Regally bossing its way around the water, seemingly aware of what was going on. It’s attitude basically said, make a move. For the first time I witnessed the power, fear, and presence that a large mako gives off. Working the shark closer to the boat, we had trouble getting it close enough. With one person on the wheel, one of the rod, and one on the shark, it was evident we would have to ware this shark down to were I personally could handle him on the wire. I have wired lots of big sharks, but every time I grabbed the leader on this fish, watching his movements and feeling his pull I knew there was no way he or I was ready to take a wrap. Once you take a solid wrap on a fish, there is no getting out. You are fully committed. The possibility of getting pulled over and drowning, or mauled is a real problem. Watching this fish move, I knew it wasn’t time. The mako suddenly rushed across the stern veering under the engine. Yelling and motioning Darren to throttle forward, it was too late. Just yards from me the dark silhouette disappeared into the depths, the line wrapped around the outboard engine. I immediately plunged down next to the engine, shoving my hands into the water, frantically trying to unwrap the 80 lb. line from around the drive shaft. “Jim loosen the drag so she can run,” I yelled at Jimmy. I couldn’t tell if the shark was still on but her side of the line was as tight as a piano wire. After struggling with the line I finally got it unwrapped and quickly began heaving slack toward the sharks end. Everybody yelling, “Where is he? Is he gone!” I didn’t respond waiting until I knew. The line came tight with no resistance. The line snapped… As I pulled in the end of the line that dreadful feeling of loss sunk into us all. Jimmy exhausted from the fight, with every muscle in his body shaking after over 45 minutes of work plopped down on the deck head in his hands. Darren and I silent in disappointment standing on the pitching deck. I remember looking at Jimmy aware of the immense frustration after putting so much work into a fish. Although happy for the fight and respectful for the shark I was ready to get the lines back into the water. We where foaming at the mouth for that fish.
Looking out into the water I was astonished to see thirty yards from the boat, the mako. Swimming right on top of the waves, fins completely out of the water, there she was. I nearly jumped ten feet high. In a brave heart warrior cry I yelled “There She Is!!!”. At those words all of us instantly scrambled to our feet and went nuts. Without hesitation I decided to pull up to the shark and free gaff her. It was are only choice. She was exhausted from the fight, using the waves to push her along and save energy. She would never eat a bait in such condition. Screaming at Darren to drive alongside the fish he pushed up the throttles and began the fragile process of chasing it down. Completely unrestrained the free-swimming shark could submerge at any second, never to be seen.
My mind shut off. The only thing I could see was the shark. With so much commotion around, the crashing water, revving engine, and screams of direction, my eyes were glued to this thing. Everything around me funneled straight ahead on the shark swimming directly in front of us. The moment presented itself. The mako was alongside the boat just six or so feet from me. Time stood still. In a flash I reached out with the gaff and heaved back, ripping the gaff toward the boat, sticking the shark behind its gills. All chaos broke out. As I struggled to pull the shark to the boat, it thrashed violently. Beating the side of boat unrelentlessly, sending booming smacks against the side of the boat, shaking the ground we stood on. Stretching over the boat right in the middle of the fray there we were. In a confusing mess of water, limbs, fins, and metal, we fought to hold the shark as it proceeded to try and take us out. The gaff twisted and writhed against my grip. Threatening exhaustively to rip from my hands. Using the side of the boat as a buffer we huddled low to the deck as the sharks lifted up its tail beating repeatedly against us. That tail would knock you straight out. This fish was BAD. Things were happening so quickly you only had time to rely on your first instinct to make a move. It was one of those situations you find yourself in so rarely, and so briefly, yet you will remember so fondly forever. Complete adrenaline rush.
Jimmy ran for a tail rope as me and Darren strained to hold her against the boat her tail flying wildly above our heads. The only thing that shielded us from certain injury was the side of the boat, four feet tall. Struggling to get the tail rope on, we maneuvered whenever and wherever we could. Dodging the pulsing shark, and her powerful tail. It’s business end, rows of curved fangs lunging furiously, reaching up for us. I remember hearing the sound of its jaws snapping shut with immense power, sending out a sharp huff of air. This thing was pissed. I don’t remember looking into its eyes at this time, but I bet they were racing from each one of us to the other. What an amazing animal. Pushing the tail rope over her tail, we pulled the line tight, catching the line around her keel. We snitched the line tight and tied it off to the starboard cleat. We had a solid gaff, and a tail rope secure, for the first time we felt like we had her. With makos you don’t do anything easily or take a break, you ease slowly into taking her. Holding the gaff, getting more ropes on her we waited. Staring at the shark now alongside us, we stared in amazement at what we had just caught. We relished in blood, sweat, and tears, leaning back letting the wind cool us down. There is nothing like being on the ocean.
The 154 lb. Mako Shark took 6th place back at the docks. Writing this story I have realized something I must have lost, how important and valuable it is to keep large sharks in the water. Large sharks give birth infrequently. Their gestation periods last months longer other marine animals, making them vulnerable to over fishing and endangerment. Creatures like the mako represent the pinnacle of life in our oceans. They stand for everything that gives us imaginations, and dreams. The sense of wonder and passion these animals provoke in all of us is something that must be protected. Although that day on the water stands as one of the best days of my life, I know that after killing those fish, and reflecting on the animal itself, it wasn’t the right thing to do. To prevent such an amazing animal to swim freely in its ocean is something I will never do again.
Running fifteen knots over the building five-foot ocean swells Iliamna fought her way through the maze of confused ocean ahead of her bow. A brisk wind blew hard from the East, keeping us all weary about the prospect of venturing offshore. It was 5:30 a.m. and were shedding early morning funks, allowing are surroundings to do it for us. After about an hour of travel the tiny speck of Nantucket was gone and we were left with nothing but water and sky. Constantly checking our position on the GPS we cruised forward through an empty ocean just waking up from a dark night. To the East a savannah red sun etched closer toward warming the Atlantic, illuminating the few broken clouds above with an orangish red tint. The warm offshore water bubbled and foamed all around us as waves crashed and our bow cascaded down steep troughs. Occasionally a spray of water would fly into the cockpit and deck keeping me focused. The air was warm with a hint of summer humidity but the strong wind and rough seas told us to keep our jackets on. It was the 5th Annual Nantucket Shark Tournament and nobody but the eighteen “salty” boats were offshore that day. It was rough but the engine sang sweet songs as we pressed on wary but confident towards blue water. Peering into the water I quickly recognized warmly the sight of deep blue ocean water. Offshore water has always interested me. Its color is very distinct from that of inshore waters. It has an inviting clarity yet a deep blue that says use caution. I always know when we have hit “blue water” by looking into the wake. The white bubbles generated from the prop show white like pearls against the royal blue water. The difference is clear as day. It always surprises me how much life begins out here. After miles of travel you suddenly find yourself amidst a surplus of life that seems to come out of nowhere. Large amounts of bright yellow Sargasso weed float on the surface attracting vast schools of baitfish casting silver reflections through the clear water. Storm petrels and huge ocean going Gannets with their distinctive markings weave through the swells. It is not uncommon out here to come across: dolphins, basking sharks, tuna, and ocean sunfish all within a mile of trolling a desired temperature break or underwater ridgeline. This is where you want to be.
Gordon’s Gully is a stretch of the second most inshore ridgeline along the continental slope. It has a serious of small narrow canyons that break into a shallow plateau. This rising bottom structure forms a constant upwelling of current. Riding in these currents are numerous types of nutrients that in turn attract plankton, that in turn give way to small fish, eventually bringing in large predatory species, a food cycle is born. The ridge also acts as a meeting place for warm offshore Gulf Stream waters and colder inshore Labrador Current waters. The clashing of these two unique currents create a bountiful relationship for wildlife to do wild things. Among the thousands of natural occurrences here, this is where the members at top of the food chain often feed.
Once reaching the Gully I pulled the throttles back surfing the boat smoothly to a cruising speed. As the boat slowed the churning wake behind us rushed into the stern sending a thin layer of warm water snaking its way to our bare feet on deck. The temperature gauge read 66 degrees and climbing. It is always a good feeling just before you start fishing. When you arrive at your chosen spot all the work to get there disappears and the excitement for the what is ahead takes over. As the gauge continued to climb and the fish finder in my head said to stay, we began are stakeout. We were after the oceans most formidable predator. The fastest shark in the ocean and by all accounts the most aggressive. The mako shark does not mess around. The plan was to drift along the ridgeline using the current to carry us over six miles of prime mako territory. After monitoring the temperature break and drift direction, we where ready to get into it.
We would fish four lines. All of which are strategically placed throughout the entire water column. When shark fishing it is crucial to cover different depths. Sharks especially large individuals often prefer cooler waters swimming just on or below the thermocline in most cases deeper than fifty feet. A bait directly off the bottom is deployed for large threshers that patrol over the sandy bottom hording schools of squid and mackerel. Closer to the surface are the more pelagic species. Blue and Mako sharks. Although both blues and makos are often found stalking below the theromocline. We began to break out the heavy artillery. Sharking entails a lot of gear. All of which must be the strongest and baddest equipment out there. The list includes: uncutable wire, large stainless steel hooks, big gaffs, hardy gloves, specialized big-game rod and reel, heavy weights, full tank of gas, reliable GPS, fresh bluefish, more fresh bluefish, and huge balls. Within twenty minutes we had a steady chum line flowing from our stern and four fresh bloodied bates soaking right were we wanted them. If there where sharks here, we where catching them. Almost immiedalty after setting up my eyes zeroed in on a blue shark, aggressively testing one of the balloons used as floats on the surface. Keenly zipping around the float, fins whipping above water. Blue sharks are beautiful. They have a deep indigo blue covering on the upper body. The blue blanket covering them abruptly ends turning into a bright white belly with a silver streak separating the two. They have long pectoral fins that stick straight out like airplane wings while swimming. There movements seem to always flow with the water around them. They are very curious and investigate anything floating on the surface. On some days blue sharks swarm around the boat coming from all directions teaming up in packs upon any food item around. Blue sharks are the most common, mass transit sharks of the northeast. We were after the illusive mako. Makos are fast, and focused. They are extremely bold and aggressive making them a top predator in the world’s oceans. They travel alone hunting large oceanic prey such as marlin and tuna. Perhaps the most dangerous trait of the mako is that they are always ready to go. Their gloves are always on. Makos have a mind of their own and react to every situation quickly and violently. Each mako seems to have its own personality. One thing remains the same for every individual however. They do not mess around and when it comes down to their personality they are just downright nasty. It is there unpredictable nature that gives them their ominous reputation among those who have been in the presence of these amazing creatures.
A few hours go by and we have two blue sharks and a decent mako under out belt. After drifting over the entire ridgeline we bring in out gear. Moving back toward the east side of the wall. Charging through the near vertical swells we pound are way eastward. With every wave water drenches the cockpit. The hull shuddering as waves pound against our progress. I push the throttles forward keeping course, sending the bow soaring into the air into the onslaught of waves. I’m having a good time. There are few things comparable to big seas, blue water, and ocean spray flying everywhere that gets me goin.
After the thirty-minute joyride the GPS puts us back on the East Ridge. I pull the throttles back, cut the engine and get are lines and chum back in the water. Are spot had sharks, good temperature, and fast water. Within twenty minutes we had out first hit. Fast little run-offs characteristic of a small mako. After she mangled three of our baits perhaps getting her fill, she disappeared. Whenever there’s a mako around large or small the deck always stands on their toes. A rush of adrenaline rushes through you as you scan the blue for that streaking blur to flash before you. “Mako, Mako, Mako”, Darren yells as he chums over the side of the boat. “It just shot right across behind”, us pointing to a chum riddled area of water just five yards from the stern. “It was big, it just flew by, out of nowhere.” Now we where all enraptured with the events unfolding before us. Knowing that a large mako had crashed the party our nerves began to anxiously dance. A few minutes went by, nothing but the sound of breaking waves, wind, and a desolate chum line. BOOM, the rod on the surface cracked down sending a screech into the air as line ripped off the real. Jimmy pounced on the rod and got ready to set the hook. Battling first time shark fishing jitters he had to redeem himself from a mako he had missed earlier in the day. After a few long seconds the line was still flying off the real. It was time to go, “Lock up the drag! Wind, Wind, Wind!!!” The line came tight and Jim pulled back with a solid succession of heaves. There was no mess up this time, we where on to a monster. This is what you travel twenty miles offshore for in shitty conditions, large sharks and incredible experiences. The freight train on the other end of the line continued steadily dumping line off the reel five minutes into the fight. It was time to start the engines.
A brief moment of chaos and panic set in as we scurried around the boat setting up tail ropes, clearing the deck, and going through scenarios. Although having extensive knowledge and time spent working on the water with similar animals this would be the first time I have attempted to deal with one muscle to muscle. The first time trying to land a mako shark, never the less one of this size. I turned quickly into the cockpit to work on tail ropes. A few seconds later Jimmy and Darren let out a serious of yells and holy shits. The mako catapulted out of the water slamming through any oncoming waves sending a shower of violent water high into the air. It’s powerful tail beating profusely, pushing its twisted bulk forward above the waves. A mako suspended in the air is an image very few will ever have the privilege of seeing, it is something im sure they will remember for the rest of their lives. By the time I looked up all that was left was a large hole of angry ocean where the shark crashed down. At this moment a primal feeling of urgency shot through the boat. How are we going to deal with this? Are we ready? With only one relatively small gaff for sharking and a self-made tail rope it was going to be an enormously large undertaking. Staying safe was the only immediate goal in all of out heads. You could feel the danger.
The best strategy to deal with a shark like this is to tire him out. Back in for a long epic fight between shark and boat and wait until she is ready. The biggest mistake you could make out here is attempting to take a shark that isn’t ready to go. Sticking a gaff, leadering a shark, or trying to tail rope a hyped up mako is the biggest invitation for trouble you could order. A reaction to anyone of these actions could mean a direct attack on the boat, a shark to jump into the boat, or the line to snap in a boat side flip out no equipment can really handle. The speed, teeth, and nature of the shark force you to wait. There are hundreds of stories from experienced fisherman of freak accidents and amazingly scary situations occurring while dealing with makos. Everything from people getting pulled over board to large sharks grey hounding across the surface into the boat. Makos are smart.
Jimmy struggled to hold his ground against the building seas and slippery deck. Sharks fight unlike any other species of game fish. They have a constant pull that can wear a strong back down in minutes. They take off on blistering runs that can erase in seconds a half an hours worth of gained line. The biggest problem for the angler is brute strength. A mako shark is primarily made up of muscle; they are designed for speed and endurance. When fighting one on rod and reel the task is nothing short of exhausting. You are going up against an animal that is built to kill and dominate in the world’s harshest environment. Twenty minutes into the fight the mako showed no signs of fatigue. As the excitement of the hook-up wore off we settled in for the fight and I turned my attention toward Jimmy. Although already knowing what to do it is always good to keep the angler aware of all the scenarios. If the shark runs, let him go. If he runs hard, loosen the drag. When he slacks up and uses the current let him have it. If he jumps keep the line tight. If he swims toward you, wind like hell to catch up. Most important, feel the shark out; know what he’s doing. Unlike blue sharks makos turn on a dime and go from a complete standstill to thirty miles an hour in a second. They have the ability to know where you are and what you’re doing. When a mako is near the boat its eyes stay on you.
After forty minutes of give and go the shark appeared in full view for the first time. With its massive bulk the mako circled confidently around the boat. It’s snarled teeth stood out like pearls. There was no worry in her movements, no hint of intimidation. Regally bossing its way around the water, seemingly aware of what was going on. It’s attitude basically said, make a move. For the first time I witnessed the power, fear, and presence that a large mako gives off. Working the shark closer to the boat, we had trouble getting it close enough. With one person on the wheel, one of the rod, and one on the shark, it was evident we would have to ware this shark down to were I personally could handle him on the wire. I have wired lots of big sharks, but every time I grabbed the leader on this fish, watching his movements and feeling his pull I knew there was no way he or I was ready to take a wrap. Once you take a solid wrap on a fish, there is no getting out. You are fully committed. The possibility of getting pulled over and drowning, or mauled is a real problem. Watching this fish move, I knew it wasn’t time. The mako suddenly rushed across the stern veering under the engine. Yelling and motioning Darren to throttle forward, it was too late. Just yards from me the dark silhouette disappeared into the depths, the line wrapped around the outboard engine. I immediately plunged down next to the engine, shoving my hands into the water, frantically trying to unwrap the 80 lb. line from around the drive shaft. “Jim loosen the drag so she can run,” I yelled at Jimmy. I couldn’t tell if the shark was still on but her side of the line was as tight as a piano wire. After struggling with the line I finally got it unwrapped and quickly began heaving slack toward the sharks end. Everybody yelling, “Where is he? Is he gone!” I didn’t respond waiting until I knew. The line came tight with no resistance. The line snapped… As I pulled in the end of the line that dreadful feeling of loss sunk into us all. Jimmy exhausted from the fight, with every muscle in his body shaking after over 45 minutes of work plopped down on the deck head in his hands. Darren and I silent in disappointment standing on the pitching deck. I remember looking at Jimmy aware of the immense frustration after putting so much work into a fish. Although happy for the fight and respectful for the shark I was ready to get the lines back into the water. We where foaming at the mouth for that fish.
Looking out into the water I was astonished to see thirty yards from the boat, the mako. Swimming right on top of the waves, fins completely out of the water, there she was. I nearly jumped ten feet high. In a brave heart warrior cry I yelled “There She Is!!!”. At those words all of us instantly scrambled to our feet and went nuts. Without hesitation I decided to pull up to the shark and free gaff her. It was are only choice. She was exhausted from the fight, using the waves to push her along and save energy. She would never eat a bait in such condition. Screaming at Darren to drive alongside the fish he pushed up the throttles and began the fragile process of chasing it down. Completely unrestrained the free-swimming shark could submerge at any second, never to be seen.
My mind shut off. The only thing I could see was the shark. With so much commotion around, the crashing water, revving engine, and screams of direction, my eyes were glued to this thing. Everything around me funneled straight ahead on the shark swimming directly in front of us. The moment presented itself. The mako was alongside the boat just six or so feet from me. Time stood still. In a flash I reached out with the gaff and heaved back, ripping the gaff toward the boat, sticking the shark behind its gills. All chaos broke out. As I struggled to pull the shark to the boat, it thrashed violently. Beating the side of boat unrelentlessly, sending booming smacks against the side of the boat, shaking the ground we stood on. Stretching over the boat right in the middle of the fray there we were. In a confusing mess of water, limbs, fins, and metal, we fought to hold the shark as it proceeded to try and take us out. The gaff twisted and writhed against my grip. Threatening exhaustively to rip from my hands. Using the side of the boat as a buffer we huddled low to the deck as the sharks lifted up its tail beating repeatedly against us. That tail would knock you straight out. This fish was BAD. Things were happening so quickly you only had time to rely on your first instinct to make a move. It was one of those situations you find yourself in so rarely, and so briefly, yet you will remember so fondly forever. Complete adrenaline rush.
Jimmy ran for a tail rope as me and Darren strained to hold her against the boat her tail flying wildly above our heads. The only thing that shielded us from certain injury was the side of the boat, four feet tall. Struggling to get the tail rope on, we maneuvered whenever and wherever we could. Dodging the pulsing shark, and her powerful tail. It’s business end, rows of curved fangs lunging furiously, reaching up for us. I remember hearing the sound of its jaws snapping shut with immense power, sending out a sharp huff of air. This thing was pissed. I don’t remember looking into its eyes at this time, but I bet they were racing from each one of us to the other. What an amazing animal. Pushing the tail rope over her tail, we pulled the line tight, catching the line around her keel. We snitched the line tight and tied it off to the starboard cleat. We had a solid gaff, and a tail rope secure, for the first time we felt like we had her. With makos you don’t do anything easily or take a break, you ease slowly into taking her. Holding the gaff, getting more ropes on her we waited. Staring at the shark now alongside us, we stared in amazement at what we had just caught. We relished in blood, sweat, and tears, leaning back letting the wind cool us down. There is nothing like being on the ocean.
The 154 lb. Mako Shark took 6th place back at the docks. Writing this story I have realized something I must have lost, how important and valuable it is to keep large sharks in the water. Large sharks give birth infrequently. Their gestation periods last months longer other marine animals, making them vulnerable to over fishing and endangerment. Creatures like the mako represent the pinnacle of life in our oceans. They stand for everything that gives us imaginations, and dreams. The sense of wonder and passion these animals provoke in all of us is something that must be protected. Although that day on the water stands as one of the best days of my life, I know that after killing those fish, and reflecting on the animal itself, it wasn’t the right thing to do. To prevent such an amazing animal to swim freely in its ocean is something I will never do again.
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