9/16/13

Boy it had that feel to it today. Gray, wind freshening steady, the general sense, despite being in perfect yellowfin
territory, was that they weren't going to come easy. Not that they do anyway but this occasion was ripe with obstacles -
mainly fish that were scattered at best and down at worst.

Aside from our own merits, earned over what is now becoming a rather respectable amount of time dedicated to this style of
fishing, what sat most in our favor today was the combined effort of a few of our colleagues plying the same zone. Catching
or not the information produced is vital to the overall picture. As we frequently say it is equally as important to know
where they are not as it is to know where they are.

As of 11:30 a.m. we were doing a fantastic job of identifying the areas where they were not. Things definitely weren't
looking up as the freshening wind and building seas suggested that we had positioned ourselves for a long, arduous afternoon.
"No fish for you" was the resounding call from the wild as our north, south, east, and west tacks were ignored by favor. It was
shaping up to be one of those days - again.

Captain Toussaint and I were intent on the bridge in the usual serious mode that accompanies about ninety nine percent of our
time spent up here. Though things weren't exactly going our way we were staring down the odds refusing as always to succumb,
Reacting to challenging conditions with as much humor as we could muster I was momentarily stunned by a vision surreal -
about twenty five tuna and one big dorado, in perfect sync, exploded from the water about half a mile off the starboard side.
It happened and was over in a flash, probably one second total.

I made a lively exclamation that captured Randy's attention just in time for him to see the resulting splashes. Not entirely
certain if was dolphins or tuna he questioned what the heck it was. Needless to say after the long slow morning I was jumping
out of my skin wildly exclaiming that there was no question about the species I.D. - it was fu*%!*% tuna! A hard right turn
and a little bit more throttle was the response.

Leading the spot a little bit it didn't take long before the sonar picked up a signature. And as we got closer that signature
grew into a boomer school. In a classic two Captain's on the bridge moment I grabbed the P.A. microphone preparing crewmen
and anglers with my signature "stand by" announcement full of urgent inflection. They say that when I get riled up by the
prospect of something really good that they can hear it in my voice on the P.A. This time I'm sure there was no doubt.

After chasing it down on the sonar we finally got over the school and I began urging Randy to give the call to the guys on
the tank to let them have it; he wasn't saying it and I couldn't figure out why. Just as I was thinking it I saw Randy
reaching into thin air for the P. A. mike a millisecond perplexed by it being gone from it's usual bracket. It was still in
my hand from the initial "stand by" announcement.

One would think that after twenty nine years of offshore fishing, and twenty five years of running long range vessels, that
the excitement of such moments would be at least a little more reserved - it isn't. We still live for these occasions, for
these all too brief periods when the entire setting transforms from dismal to insanely gratifying in an instant. If such
occasions didn't elicit an adrenaline charged response, and the not so often but inevitable accompanying over excited
bumbling, no doubt we would not be pursuing this way of life. This was actually one of those real, identifying moments - not
that the result uncovered the unknown.

What happened after Randy kindly and coolly reminded me that I still had the microphone in my hand, right, is that we
instantly got our act together, shared a hearty laugh, and conveyed the message to rock. A legendary stop on 25 - 40 pound
yellowfin tuna followed that was a day maker and then some. Absolutely wide open fishing - beautiful yellowfin swarming the
corner fifteen and twenty at a time for over an hour biting anything and everything that hit the water - reset the atmosphere
and propelled all of us to the peak of fishing glory. It was a real deal opportunity that we made good on to be sure. These
"Fishin' Lumberjacks" are no joke; they get 'er done.

Photos today first feature the man himself, Chief "Lumberjack" Craig Heberer (center), Ben Meyer (left), and Terry Roelofs,
enjoying his second southern climes offshore long range voyage, with a trio of quality yellowfin. The second photo features
offshore veteran Dave Itano enjoying the moment as one of his many fine yellowfin comes over the rail.

Tim Ekstrom

Photo Here...

Photo Here...