I have been in a fever. Some tunnel visioned trip of watching conditions and water temp, trading intel, spending too much time and money on eBay, drafting and redrafting magyvered systems on my pool toy of a boat, it goes on. I've based my self worth on how full my freezer has been for the past couple months. There's been some year old bait in there. And I've seen some new sights this summer that I thought I'd have to pay a steep ticket for just the coin toss of a chance to see, and I have learned a lot, and I know that I still know next to nothing, and that's exciting to me. But I just got some blood on my decks, and it pulled me out of a months long tunnel vision, and I suddenly feel relieved, and relaxed, and more creative. It's wild.
August 14
A late work night led to a late boat launch the next day. I must have launched around noon. Dana Point Harbor was buzzing on Sunday, though nothing like the buzzing that goes on at The Dunes ramp in Newport Harbor, which I have since been banned from (good riddance!)
Pulling out of the ramp area, I didn’t make it 100 yards before a couple guys in a tinny asked if I wanted the rest of their live bait. I had nowhere to put them besides an empty kill bag, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt (me) to have. I collected about a dozen live horse ‘dines from them, squared them away, and thanked them. Shoved off, and realized, my motor ain’t goin’ no more! What’s that all about? The outboard futzing commenced, and I was asked by multiple boaters in a matter of minutes if I needed a tow. I appreciated the warmth but I knew this was probably very dumb and simple. Dana wharf decky drove by on a tiller and told me it was probably flooded and let it sit, and if all else fails, the boys at the fuel dock will help. Need a tow over there? No thanks I don’t need a tow, I’ll let the outboard sit and then the wind will blow me the 50 yards to them.
That it did. Pulled up, tied off.
“How ya doin’ pal?”
“Oh could be better pal I’m here with a motor that don’t start.”
“Oh lemme get Greg.”
Greg enters scene.
“How’s it goin’ pal?”
“Oh well could be goin' better, bein’ that I’m not goin’ at all, eh!”
“Oh ya okay, well looks like your outboard’s flooded. Take the fuel line off the outboard, put the throttle to full, give that pull start a, and bam it’s goin’!”
“Oh wow okay now that’s a nifty trick eh!”
“Oh yeah works like a charm when it’s flooded. Now the motor is running on all that gas inside it. Throw the fuel line back on and you're good to go pal! All right now you go have a good one!”
“Oh ya thanks again eh!”
And so I goe’d, off and a way. Terrafin’s satellite readings were boasting up to 76º water temps toward the 14. I was craving mahi, and tales of jumpers and millions of ‘em that were all over and wouldn’t bite called me. So I went that a'way.
Oh ‘bout halfway, thereabouts, I spied with my little eye a pair of fins! I’d never seen it before in person, but there it was. Big old swordie. As I got closer, the fins got thicker, and further apart. Looked about 7’ from tip of the tail to the tip of the dorsal. All in all that could amount to a 10’ fish. Knowing the chances of hooking one would end in my being speared and never heard from again, I pitched my Tady AA in blue chrome over to it. It lazily slid the other way. Pitched it well past again, and with a forceful motion moved more water than my 4hp outboard can, and sank out. Crisis averted. Onward!
Still a few miles short of the 14, I had waning hopes for any action in this direction. The water temp had sunk from 74.5º out of the harbor to 71º. The wind had picked up enough to make forward headway feel akin to eating rocks. No birds moving into the wind in the direction of the 14, so as to tell me there was probably no surface action anywhere near up ahead. And to put the icing on the cake, I saw a couple hundred pound mako go full aerial multiple times about 200 yards to my starboard. Makos are cool if your boat isn’t a pool toy.
And so I began my way back toward Dana. And the water warmed, and warmed, and warmed. The wind slacked a bit and made the afternoon feel right for the odd marlin strike. My Avet 50/2 dragged a jet head that still hadn’t been bit to my knowledge, but had a fantastic kick to it that I figure would be only a matter of time before it’s smashed.
Another hour of trolling through 74º water resulted in absolutely nothing. One patty spotted with some micro bait, but no gamefish home.
I returned to the harbor around 1800, and figured I’d keep the boat on my car for the next day. Word had it that I should have zagged, so Monday I would zag.
August 15
Monday, 1200. Interview with Dana Wharf Sportfishing went well. I removed a word from my vocabulary, and it wasn’t any of the number of swear words I seem to drop during job interviews these days. Wednesday I would be on the 3/4 day Sum Fun trip to see how my skills fare with their operations. Captain Cory wished me luck for my afternoon trip to chase the dorado again.
Got breakfast for lunch at Proud Mary’s next door. I hope to eat there more often.
Started to unpack my car to put the Mosquito together then realized I needed to fill up the gas tank. Might have had 2 gallons, would prefer 3 or more for today’s trip. Made the trip to a Chevron up the road for the gas.
On the water about 1430. No live bait offerings, no outboard futzing. 74º water temp. Zagged. Ran the jet head on the Avet 50 as my sole troller. I cross my toes for a marlin when I couldn’t get bit by a chicken. Is that why I haven’t caught a fish since June?
No signs of life going south. Ah, but I cross my toes. Due diligence! Gotta run the miles! It only takes one paddy to change a day. That’s right, dammit!
So I enjoyed a pluot. And then I enjoyed a mango. Ever eat a mango with the skin on? Now I have.
No life besides the aimless bird. Nice day though. Start to zig zag my way back north. Then I came up on what looked like blue sharks working on a dead sea lion. I slowed, watched it, then saw a flash of green. Dorado taking swipes at micro bait. Ay, but the smallest of strands support an ecosystem!
I made a turn on it, positioned myself for a cast with a jigstick, then reeled up my Avet 50 furiously. And then got stopped. And then that loud aggressive clicker. And then a jump. Much larger than the chickens I was expecting. My first thought upon hookup was that since this was on the 50, I can get it in quickly and make my next cast with the jigstick. That thought dissipated as quickly as the dorado made its way around my boat in seconds, jumping high and wildly. You have to appreciate a fish that can use what it's got to make it a challenge to land with even big game tackle. I got away from the tiller, which was idling and veering slightly left. The dorado had made its way clockwise from the starboard, around the boat, and back over to the starboard bow. Now my other rods stood up in holders were in the way. Difficult to get the tip of a 5’6” XXXH rod bent in half over the top of a jigstick. Thankfully I didn’t need to. The dorado fought the tiller, trying to veer the boat right, and ended up pulling itself close to the side of the boat. I saw my shot and I took it. Stubby gaff out of the holder and into the side of the fish. Game over. Pulled it out of the water and into the boat. Grabbed it through the gills and collar, broke the gills. I let out primal yells to the reception of absolutely nobody for miles. I BEAT YOU.
The fish taped out to about 43” and 24lbs. Nice thick belly was full of eggs.
The tiny flurry that I had come upon had long since vanished. I filled my kill bag with some saltwater, threw in the fish, and began my way back to the harbor.
My self worth is much better now that I have a couple week’s worth of beautiful mahi steaks to play with. If the deckhand gig at Dana Wharf works out, I’ll probably end up getting some leftover fillets on the regular. I feel like a tide turned. One dorado isn’t going to satiate my desire for blood on the decks, but it’s vindicated my efforts. My girlfriend no longer thinks that “looking for tuna and dorado” means I might be spending time with another life with another family. I actually fish!
