E
VERYBODY has a story or three
about the big one they caught;
you know the one that you
can’t explain how amazing the
hookup was, how big the fish was or
how long the fight was. Some fisher-
men’s stories are really hard to believe,
but for the fisherman it doesn’t matter
if his buddy adds an extra 10kg or 10
inches to his story, because we are all
fishermen — or women, in my case —
and we all take turns doing the same.
For some of us fishing is a way to
relax, to become one with nature, and
to leave our hectic lives behind. For
others, fishing isn’t just a pastime, it’s a
way of life. Deep sea fishing has always
provided a rush of excitement for the
adrenaline junkies of the angling world,
and that is how I see this sport.
Like any half-decent angler I too
have a story — about the one that got
away.
December holidays in our house are
all about fishing. The kids fish, the
extended family fish, the friends fish
and if we can’t go fishing we talk about
fishing and make plans to get the big
one the next day.
On this specific day, the boys (The
Husband, The Friend, The Son and the
Son’s buddy) and I woke up at 4am to
get going. It’s quite a ride down to the
beach with the boat and tractor and we
like to be on the water at first light. It
hardly ever works that way, but we try.
When we eventually got to the beach
the sea was so flat it looked like we
were launching in a harbour. The
Husband wasn’t happy at all. You know
how fishermen all have funny supersti-
tions, like if you take a banana on the
boat or eat eggs on a boat you won’t
catch anything that day? Well, The
Husband believes that when the sea is
as flat as that, with not even a ripple in
the water, we might as well stay on the
beach. However we were already
there, and the rest of us wanted to go
out, so we launched into the pond.
Before long the first reel screamed
like there was no tomorrow. Everybody
on the boat knows their jobs when that
happens, and soon our first marlin was
hooked, the boat was cleared and the
angler was in the seat. After a few min-
utes the fish came off and we started all
over again. The Husband’s Rapala Lip
was beginning to show and he was
grumbling about how he knew we
shouldn’t have bothered to launch in
the calm conditions.
Throughout the day we caught a
few dorado which are great for dinner,
but they’re not marlin.
Then we got the silent hour — that
hour when absolutely nothing hap-
pens, when everybody’s polished off
their boat packs and got quiet, and your
mind just drifts away to the horizon
thinking about nothing.
The Husband always says I am the
best angler from my back — I chase
him out the “living room” (cabin)
because he has an autopilot so there’s
no need to be at the steering the whole
time. Once he’s out the way I throw
down a towel and get some shut eye,
but you can bet I will be at the reel first
when it starts running.On this day I was just about sinking
into lala land when the rubber band
broke and, for a split second, we all
paused, waiting to hear the sound that
we all love. The sound was louder and
faster than ever, and everyone sprang
into action clearing the boat, getting
someone in the chair and fighting this
beautiful fish.
The sun was blazing down and the
fight went to almost an hour, but then
we saw the leader coming through the
clear water. The excitement as tangible
— we were going to see this big fat
mama for the first time. We were
amazed at her size — she was huge, the
biggest blue marlin I have ever seen.
But she wasn’t ready and still had a lot
of fight in her so we let her run one
more time.
The fight started all over again, and
eventually — after a few bottles of
water and half a bottle of suntan lotion
on our angler — she came closer and
closer. The leader was coming up
again. The Husband (also The
Leaderman) got the gloves while I took
the steering and we all waited patiently
for the last stretch. She came closer to
the boat, more tired than the first time,
and The Husband leaned over the gun-
nel to take her bill but she was just out
of reach.
Then it happened — the line broke!
A few words came out of our mouths
that I dare not repeat here. After that it
was like there’d been a death in the
family nobody said a word. We just sat
there in silence looking at the water in
disbelief — Rapala Lips on every face.
A few minutes later someone on the
radio called in for help; they were busy
with a marlin and the skipper needed
more hands as it was only him, his wife
and their small children on the boat.
We were close to their position so —
still in silence — we drove off to help
them.
The funny thing was, the only per-
son on our boat that could help them
was The Friend — at that stage a very
tired, sore and not very happy man
who had just lost the fish he dreams of
every night. He swam over to give
them a hand and we drifted slowly
away, waiting to pick him up after they
got the fish. We decided to take a swim
in the big blue while we were waiting
and the atmosphere changed almost
immediately. Within minutes we were
having a ball jumping off the boat and
enjoying the cooling-off session after a
very hard but exciting day. All the
Rapala Lips vanished in the beauty of
the ocean around us
’Till today we all dream of the fish
that got away, but one day when it’s our
time to land the grander it will come.
Until then we enjoy every fish we catch
and release — or lose.82 • SKI-BOAT May/June 2017
RAPALA LIP
Last word
from the
ladies