Sashimi Season 2019

"Stripahs"

"Hey!  I've got an idea!  Let's go fishing together!"

"Sounds good to me, ties some flies with this feather!"

"I will, I'll make them look like squids."

"Good. I'll pick you up at the airport and we'll giggle like kids!"

"Get Wik down there too, he likes striped bass."

"No doubt, he'll be there when we arrive, likely half-drunk and on his ass!"

"Roger that.  Here's a picture of my box.  My fly box, that is."

"I like the looks of your box, sir.  Looks tasty to me.  A fine looking box it is!"

"Look at her!  I haven't seen her in years!"

"She's gorgeous, ain't she.  Almost brings me to tears!"

"There's a man casting down there; he looks to have a beard."

"Indeed he does.  I hear while fly fishing, he is to be feared."

"I can confirm such a claim, I have seen it first-hand."

"Same here.  Hey, what would you think if Darius and Ray combined and made a band?"



"Which one should I tie on?"
"I don't know, try this one.  It's made with hair from a fawn."
"Right on!  They should be able to see it, at the least."
"Oh they'll see it, and upon it they will feast!"
"I'll cast on this side, you take the other!"
"Oh shit, you hooked one!  Good one!  Now I'll catch his big brother!"

"There's one!  Did you see that?!"
"Oh my soul, it just destroyed fly, flat!"
"Let it run!  Keep it tight!  Pull on that thing!"
"I'm pulling!  Yeeeeeeaaaaaaa boy, listen to that reel sing!"

"First one to catch one gets a beer, eh!"
"I'm on sir, I'll take a cold IPA!"
"Ah, you've won, OK.  But look, I'm on now and I think mine's bigger!"
"I'm not so sure.  See if you can land that and then we'll figure!"

"Do you think that chick is hot?"
"Yes.  Do you or do you not?"
"I do not.  Ask me again in three beers."
"I'll ask you again in three years!"

"Hang on to your britches, big wave on its way."
"Move us thirty yards that way, wha'd'ya say?"
"10-4, here's your shot, make it count."
"On!  Y'know, I was thinking of someday getting a fish mount..."

"That's a good one, wha'd'ya say we bring one back for the boys?"
"Great idea, put him in the box and then hand me that fly box of toys."
"We should get some jalapenos for the ceviche tonight."
"Yea, that, and another thirty beers should make it just right!"

"Seen any?"
"A few, mostly going away.  Not many."
"They're in there though, eh?"
"For sure, tricky guys on the flat today."
"Well, at least it's not as windy as it was."
"Yup, casting into the wind blowin' right at ya, just 'cause."

"Well, we all got one, that's not bad."
"We usually do, I think.  Let's get back to the pad."
"Right on, time to settle into some dinner."
"To be sure, with all this good eats, I'm not getting thinner."

"We should do that again, captain."
"I agree, we tend to have a good time when we fish together, it's certain."
"Where to next?  BC?  OP?  NY?  Lots of places to see."
"All in due time, next up, the STP!"

Sloppy Hookups

Cape Cod Weather Forecasting through the eyes of Captain Lane:

Wednesday- Weather for Sunday looks bad...

Thursday- Weather for Sunday looks good!

Friday- Weather for Sunday Looks Bad...

Saturday- Weather for Sunday looks good!

Saturday Night- Weather for Sunday still looks good!

Sunday 3AM- Weather for Sunday still looks good! Let's go fishing.

Sunday 7AM- Weather for Sunday looks bad... WTF Weather Guy...

Sunday 8AM- Weather for Sunday still looks really bad. (But Mahoney Thumbs Up looks good!)

Sunday 830 AM- Weather looks terrible, but fish looks good!

Sunday 9 AM- Weather is awful but fish is a slob!

Sunday 4 PM- Weather looks good. You were right all along Weather Guy. A big Mahoney Thumbs up to you!

And another one bites the dust...

Since I began bluewater fishing in 2008 it has been a series of ups and downs. This year certainly had more of the latter than the former with bad weather and generally bad fishing. But on the last few trips things have really picked up on the old OI, with much more consistent action and lots of meat in the ice box.

Over the years we've had our share of successes, with just about every big game fish available in the Northeast gracing the OI at one time or another. The staples of yellowfin and mahi are frequent visitors to the fishbox. And lately there's been a strong surgence of our nightime billfish the sword.

And who could forget the 700 lb blue marlin in Veatches canyon in 2010. I certainly won't ever forget that fish.

 Even the elusive wahoo has made an appearance at the OI once or twice. Mmm he is tasty.

White marlin? Definate check....

 Bigeyes? You bet. Who could forget the double bigeye hookup in West Atlantis that made Clark Winchell and his First Mate Sleaveless Tee famous

Mako sharks? There have been a couple. Bluefin? God too many. Skipjacks? You better believe it!

But one species has continued to elude me. Odly enough, they aren't stereotypically all the difficult to catch. The Longfin Albacore. The Penguin. The Chicken of the Sea. Why have I never been able to put an albie on the deck? No idea. They are elusive. Or something like that.

Well Albie, today I cross you off the list. The penguin has landed. A few of his other buddies made it to the cooler as well.

The yellowfin tuna (and four more of his bretheren)

 The Wahoo (Of the four we hooked, he was the only one who failed to saw through the leader.)

And there you are Mr. Penguin, with your soft chunk white albacome meat. It took a while for us to finally meet, but you're welcome on board my boat any time.

Sam the FISH

Over the Edge: Pursuit of Bluefin

Put this video together for Keith's neighbor, Paul, on the Cape. Paul wanted to take his new EdgeWater out with his two boys and christen it with it's first tuna. The fish was the only bite of the day and took us on a 1.5 hour battle. 82.5 inches curved fork length (~300 lbs).

Salty Hookups

This fishing story actually begins last season, and maybe even several seasons ago...

We have a neighbor down on Cape Cod named Paul. Paul is a really nice guy who likes smoking cigars and watching Patriots games. Paul and his wife Barbara have twin sons who are 15 years old, Mike and Alec. Good kids. Mike and Alec like to fish.

Over the past several years, Mike and Alec, and occasionally Paul, would stop by our dock to view the various catches of fish that we'd unload after a day or two at sea. The contents of the fish box would vary, occasionally we'd bring back striped bass or bluefish, but more often than not we would unload bluefin tuna, yellowfin tuna, big eye's, mahi and even swordfish. The boys would always ask how we'd caught so many fish and lament the fact that their fishing trips were always markedly less successful.

Over the years, the legend of the OI grew, and the boys next door wanted to catch some fish, badly. So last summer, I offered Paul and the boys a trip out to the canyons. We scooted off to hydrographers and put a hurt on the yellowfins, loading up the boat and releasing numerous 50 lb fish. Mike and Alec were quite pleased with tuna fishing and I was pleased that they were pleased. Fast forward three months, and Paul is signing a deal on a new 34 foot express sportfishing boat.

Now would Paul have had to cough up several hundred K for a sportfishing boat if he didn't happen to move in next door to me? Well, on that I can't quite be sure. But for some reason, I suspect my existence may have had something to do with it...

Last weekend Clark and I joined Paul , Mike and Alec on their new boat for its maiden voyage offshore. We decided to stay somewhat conservative and fish off Chatham. Oddly, I felt a lot of pressure to find a fish on this trip. I really wanted Paul and the boys to get a fish on their boat, to proved that the offshore investment was worthwhile.

As is typical with Chatham bluefin fishing, there were more boats than fish on Sunday morning. Out of a fleet of 30, 5 boats hooked fish during the early morning bite. We were not so lucky. By 7am, there was a lull. A horrible, "damn we missed the bite" lull. I sought less crowded waters and pointed the bow southeast. I cracked a bud light. Clark and I discussed his habit of ignoring his first mate duties and instead napping. I called him a pussy, but he countered with a salient point,

"We always hook fish when I'm sleeping Keith."

"That's because you're always asleep, you bum. It's inevitable."

"No. You know why we always hook fish when I'm asleep?... Because my dreams become reality..."

And at that moment, as I began to laugh at Clark's striking logic, we got a bite.

And what a bite it was. No one saw the fish hit, but hit it did, and it ran deep into the backing. The fish ran across the spread and tangled one line as we attempted to clear the other squid rigs. The spectre backing burnt right through the 400 pound test mono of the tangled spreader bar like it was nothing and we retrieved what was left of the rig. Lucky break number 1. Paul was suited up to fight the fish first.

This fish was mean. He was strong, he was mean, and he was clearly unhappy that he had been hooked. I took the helm while Paul lost the majority of his backing. Finally it became apparent that I would have to back down on the fish. We spent the next half hour with me in reverse as Paul slowly gained back his line. About the time the mono was nearing site, Paul got nervous. You see he too, was feeling pressure to get a fish on his new boat, and he wanted a professional on the reel. And who better to fulfill this need for a professional angler than Sleepy Clark Winchell?

With OO Steele on the rod, the fight commenced anew, only now we weren't backing down on the fish, and the silver leviathan found a new reserve of energy. With drag up to full, the fish refused to budge.

Clark "My Dreams Become Reality" Winchell, giving it every bit of Bates Soccer quad strength. The fish matching his every pump with a run of its own.

Deep slow circles, Winchell sweating like a fat kid on a StairMaster. Finally color under the boat, but sensing impending death, the fish made a final move. An 80 yard run directly under the boat, line rubbing against the hull, Clark made the smart move and lowered the drag to prevent a break off. Finally we were able to spin the boat and resume the battle, this time the line returning to the reel frayed and covered with bottom paint. Lucky break #2.

The drag again pushed up to full, the fish is beating OO Steele. His hands are bloody and his legs ache, the fish is circling 60 feet under the boat refusing to budge. We are an hour and a half into the battle and I realize that the fight has to end now, or it will end in defeat. I implore Clark to give it everything he has and turn the fishes head. "LIFT THIS FISH! LIFT THIS FISH!" Clark utters a painful guttural sound reminiscent of mating deer and leans back with everything he has. Again he pumps, now screaming. With each crank we gain a foot of line. I implore him to continue. He reminds me of a marathon runner giving it everything he's got during the final mile and then crapping all over himself as he crosses the finish line... Finally the double line is in sight. I grab hold of it, then get the 400 pound main line. Paul sinks the gaff in the fish.

A heave-ho over the side and the 81 inch 300+ pound bluefin is in the boat. Paul and the boys are elated, having tasted tuna victory on their own boat, I am relieved, having found a fish, and OO Steele is beaten and wasted lying on the deck like a rape victim.

When most people refer to a fish that gave an epic battle, they're usually referring to the number of times the fish jumped or how far it ran, or maybe that it got wrapped around a rock and needed some crafty angling to free it.

When I say that I witnessed an epic battle, I'm referring to brute physicality, a man with a rod, 30 pounds of drag, and a good set of balls, going toe to toe with 300 pounds of aerodynamic water pumping muscle.

I witnessed an epic battle that day, and the winner was Clark Winchell.