Starting off on the Wrong Foot (Fin?)

Story by Teammate Charlie Robinton

Laying on the surface in the chilly, green tinted water, I was beginning to wonder if the 6 hour drive had been worth it. The ride offshore had been bumpy, cold and far too long for my liking. The tacos I scarfed down upon arrival last night were bubbling in my stomach. I was uncomfortable, disappointed and not too hopeful about how the day would transpire. Wahoo today? Doubtful in these conditions. Grouper on the pinnacle? Somehow I didn’t feel up to diving 100’ in cold murk to find out. I reached for my first band to load my gun and mentally prepared for a rough day of hard diving. Then I heard the telltale “click” of my buddy Bobby’s speargun firing.

Bobby was already way ahead of me, and as I finned hard towards his float I could see it starting to tombstone. As I neared him I watched him rise up from below, out of the haze, one hand trying hard to hold onto his floatline, the other clutching his Alemanni double roller. He got to the surface, blasted a few recovery breaths and proceeded to yank on his floatline in a game of tug-o-war with what was no-doubt some ungodly sea monster. Bobby is a madman diver and is constantly making me envious with his catches. In fact, just the prior day he’d gone out to check out a new spot in the Pacific and landed a 110 pound gulf grouper, which he had told me about as casually as if he’d been shooting dumb, shallow rockfish in Monterey, CA.

As he heaved on the line and slowly recovered the fish, a slivery figure came into view. Eventually I could make out the oblong shape and the telltale golden lateral line of a yellowtail struggling and fighting at the end of his shooting line. In that moment my doubts and concerns from earlier vanished. I was no longer cold, or tired, just focused on what I needed to do. Thankfully the current was only slight, and I was able to easily kick back to the marker that we dropped from the boat, which was seated nicely atop the pinnacle 100’ below. Not knowing how deep the fish were, I prepared with a long, slow breathe-up and quieted my thoughts.

A final, drawn out inhale from belly to shoulders, a clean duck dive and a handful of strong kicks had me free falling into the darkness. I stopped finning at six kick cycles – maybe 45 feet – but kept counting slowly. Seven…eight…nine…ten…eleven…at twelve. I guessed I was probably around 70 feet now. I tilted ever so slightly so I could peer around below me. I kept falling, but planed out to slow my ascent, and reached a hand out to pluck at one of my bands. Shapes began to appear. At first they just looked like baitfish circling far below me, but being the curious creatures that they are (often to their own demise), as soon as they saw me they began rising toward me to take a closer look. All at once a few small fish became a school of large yellowtail circling me. I pointed my gun to shoot at one and it instantly veered off. I calmed my nerves and picked another, larger fish that was further away and deeper than the rest. It swam slowly below me and just off to one side. When I was satisfied with my aim I let the shaft fly and watched it hit the fish on the shoulder. The fish kicked sideways and instantly vanished into the depths, taking my shooting line and quick release cable with it.

Fresh Yellowfin sashimi with a pineapple citrus ponzu.

Knowing the pinnacle wasn’t far below, I grabbed my floatline and kicked hard for the surface. The fish was larger than I thought, and I could feel the line stretching as I kicked without gaining much ground. I let it slide through my hand in short bursts, grabbing it when I felt the fish slow to put some extra pressure on it as I ascended. Hitting the surface with some hard recovery breaths I strained to hold the line and stay on the surface, looking around for my float.

After being pulled under water and filling my snorkel more than once I finally got ahold of my float and clipped my float line to it so I could catch my breath. I began slowly hauling the fish to the surface as it fought me for every foot of line I pulled in. There were a few tense moments upon landing it as my shot had hit high on the shoulder and I was concerned it might pull out. A light touch along with my slip tip and the extra stretch in my floatline helped bring the fish to hand.

I wrapped my palm around its thick, powerful tail and breathed a sigh of relief. What a fight! And what a fish to land on the first drop of the day. When we had them side by side in the boat Bobby and I could hardly tell them apart. Twin Baja yellowtails and both bruiser fish! After a few more drops and a second fish to hand I was ready to call it good here and run back inside to look for groupers on the reef. Even one fish of this quality will have me stocked up on sashimi for a month!