Fishing catastrophies

[Snapper Head]

It's a long story, but only because I can be a bit wordy, and I have some time this morning:

48 hours ahead of Hurricane Georges I decide, as all good idiots do, to take advantage of the insane bite that occurs as the pressure drops prior to landfall. It is a beautiful morning, but very brisk winds from the northeast pushing up a good chop in the MS sound. I grab one of the skiffs, a trusty 17 foot CruiseCraft CC with a fresh 75 hp, 3 cylinder carbed Merc (one of the finest outboards ever constructed), load up some gear, file a float plan with the wife as she verifies that my life insurance policies are all paid up, and I head out alone, figuring that I would troll through Camille cut and around the south side of Ship Island, hitting some of the channel markers on the south side for cobia. I very often fished alone, very often very, very far from shore. I don't do that anymore, but back in the day I did it a great deal. Despite the obvious stoopidity (hay, remember, I'm an idjit), there is an immense peace when you are out in a small boat, alone, in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.

So there I was, pounding my way south out of Biloxi toward Camille cut, taking some spray and noting that during the 20 minute run to the cut, the winds had increased noticeably. Using the exacting logic that 'hay, I'm out here and I have to pound my way hard into it all the way back to the ramp, I might as well fish some', I put out port and starboard rigs, trolling a big spoon on one, and a huge ass red & white rapala (the ones with the giant treble hooks on them) in hopes of cranking on some good size king macks. I also put a short shotgun rig down the middle with a huge 4 ounce jig on it. Why? Why not? So as I begin trolling through the cut, I am now in steady 5 foot rollers, fairly tightly packed, with lots of spray being blown off the tops of them as they pushed their way into the wind (the rollers are pushed out ahead of the storm, and the NE winds are generated by the storm and its relative position at that time to the coast). So its fairly nasty, especially in the mighty, but tiny, CruiseCraft. My brother and I had cut the deck out the previous year and replaced the stringers, replumbed everything, and put in enough below deck fuel capacity to reach Cuba. I knew the boat was stout, but nonetheless it was insane to be out there in those conditions. Like I said.....

Just south of the cut, as I am contemplating heading back to the ramp, the shotgun rig goes off and line starts peeling, fast. With the boat moving around so much, I did not bother to clear the other two lines. I could not take it out of gear, as I would be beam-to in a hurry and likely capsize, so I began playing the fish, and steering the boat, alternating between the two. I finally see a nice 40 inch Cobia come alongside. NICE! Er, how am I going to handle this fish in these conditions, alone? I decide a pre-emptive strike is in order, so I work my way over to the bucket that has in it, along with alot of seaspray, my trusty fish bat. I get the cobe alongside, and with the rod in my left hand and the bat in my right, I kneel down and wedge myself into the gunnel, then whack the fish on the head as hard as I can. Of course, the fish goes ballistic, snaps the rod tip off, soaks my dumb ass (I was already soaked from the spray, but getting it from a fish is just insulting), then spits the jig which proceeds to slingshot very hard toward me, but hits the gel coat on the side of the boat instead, taking out a nice chunk. Considering the loss, I am suddenly interrupted by the violent rolling of the trusty CruiseCraft to starbaord, which happened to be the same side on which I was still kneeling. I still don't know what kept the boat from turning turtle, but it didn't. I jumped to the wheel and spun her hard into it. Whew, that was close. Time to get the flock out of there and get back to the ramp. Only an idiot would stay out here. Well, true to form, as I was bringing in the first of the two remaining rigs, it gets nailed by a nice king mack who proceeds to rocket skyward as the line comes tight. NICE! Again, I do not bother to clear the other line first. I play the fish until he is boatside, a nice size king. The weather has gotten a little worse with the wind and seas picking up, but the sky still clear except for the thin, high clouds that fortell the coming storm. He has eaten the rig red & white Rapala, with two barbs of the rear treble hook set firmly through the corner of his jaw. Hmmm, how to release without losing the bait? I use the kneeling tactic as before, out of necessity in the sloppy seas, get him alongside and tail grab the fish. I cannot get him completely out of the water, but have enough of his body out that I can manage the fish. I have the rod in a center holder, the tail in my left hand, and my pliers in my right. I grab the top of the treble hook that is in his jaw, using the pliers. The instant I apply pressure to try to dislodge the hook, this fish goes nuts. In a split second he has shaken the pliers from my hand and thrashed so hard that the treble hook on the front of the lure sinks deep into the the knuckle of my forefinger, hitting the bone. For what seemed like an eternity, but was actually about 5 seconds, I had the fish thrashing like hell while both of us are still hooked by the same lure. PAIN! By the grace of God that seems to follow us idjits, the hook tears out of his jaw and he disappears with lightning speed back into the foamy water. Fish = 2, Big Al = fuggin zero minus. In that instant I recall the near rollover of only a few minutes before, and I scramble to the wheel and got the boat dead into it again. Once steadied up, I then began to accept into my brain the immense pain that the giant lure and hook was applying to my knuckle, especially when I moved my hand. This was not good, in any conditions, it was especially not good in those conditions. I had on fish gloves, the basic orange units with the grabby gel on them, and knew that getting that glove off of my right hand was not doable then. I managed, with shedloads of pain, to get a pair of sidecutters from the toolbox. I steadied the hand and the lure with hook on the top of the console, and tried cutting the hook to at least get the damn lure out of the picture. Its movement was causing the continuous pain, and in the exisiting sea state, there was ALOT of movement. I am right handed, so cutting with my left, and keeping steady in those seas, proved to be impossible. I wind in the remaining rig with my left hand, vowing that if a fish hits it, I am tossing the whole shebang over the side. I then pound my way back to Biloxi, at the whopping speed of 7 mph (its a 12 mile run), feeling the hook scrape on bone with every crash of the hull into the seas. Once inside the calm of the harbor, I damn near passed out. Fortunately, there is a hospital just up the street from the harbor. Unfortunately, the harbor is deserted because a hurricane is coming. So I have to back the trailer, load the boat, and drive to the hospital with my gimp ass, mega-pained right hand. I walk into the ER, put the gloved hand, with solidly hooked lure in place, up on the counter and look at the nurse with pleading eyes. She catches my gaze, looks down at my trembling hand, returns her eyes to mine and says "what's the matter?". The gutteral scream I let out brought two doctors and the largest security guard I have ever seen, running into the waiting room. The docs assess, decide which one gets the short straw and has to deal with my dumb ass, and then walk me to a room. After 45 minutes of dictating info to the nurse, she leaves me to my misery. Now these rooms had glass fronts on them, but privacy curtains in place that could be drawn around a patient. My curtains were not drawn. I am sitting there, soaked to the bone, hurting like hell (nothing administered for pain), with this friggin red & white rapala lure sunk into my hand. What a site. Just then a UPS guy walks by with his dolly, stops, walks into the room and asks, "what the hell happened to you man, did you hurt your hand?". And I'M the fuggin idjit.......

Finally, Doogie Howser comes in (kid was not old enough to shave, but was an M.D.), pops the knuckle area full of local anesthetic, tells me its still gonna hurt, and proceeds to pull out a Dremel tool, yes, an actual Dremel tool, with the plastic case and everything. He puts a cutting wheel on the Dremel and proceeds to cut throught he shank of the hook, finally freeing the lure. After 20 minutes of study and discussion, mostly with himself, he reckons that the only way to get the barbed projectile out, is to pull it slightly backward to get some clearance from the bone, then push up and through the meat of the finger. Fuggin stellar Doc, can we just get this over with? 10 seconds, and enough bite pressure to shatter my skull, and its over. He looks at me and says "hey, no stitches needed!". Heroic Doc, thanks. Can I have some pain pills and directions to the front door please?

I still have the lure, minus a portion of the front treble hook. I still fish ahead of hurricanes when I can, but not alone, and in bigger boats. I no longer fish alone, and I must admit I dearly miss that. I will run to the island alone in a skiff once in awhile.

Big Al

[welder]

Al, pictures would really help this story.

Dang , now my hand hurts , thanks buddy.

[Snapper Head]

Al, pictures would really help this story.

Dang , now my hand hurts , thanks buddy.

Les,

I have some paper photos, but nothing digital. I'll get a digital one of the paper photo when I get back to MS. Once the hook was out, there was little meat damage and no permanent damage to the knuckle. I can still pick my nose with that finger without hinder.

Big Al

[rchanner]

It's a long story, but only because I can be a bit wordy, and I have some time this morning:

Big Al

Long stories are great, as long as they are interesting....this one was!

[Elusive]

It's a long story, but only because I can be a bit wordy,

Since when ?

j/k - you're almost ready for the literary circuit (next career phase)

[thehonkeykat]

lucky, lucky, lucky

Martha and I had left New Potatoes (somthing like that) in the South Pacific, Tonga and were making a 300 mile passage to Vavau, Tonga. Seas were moderate, Martha wanted to take a nap, so as per our rules, (#1- do not go outside when alone on watch) I pulled in fishing rods.

About an hour later I spotted birds straight ahead, could'nt help it, line out, circle birds, fish on, boat in idle, autopilot on, I walk screaming rod along starboard walkway to stern, tighten drag to max with no effect. At 500 yds line goes slack, I quickly reel in line, another billy bait gone, but instead taking outside walkway back to pilot house i instead step into saloon. At that instance a "rogue"wave hit special blend on port side and rolled us onto starboard side (special blend is a trawler not sailboat) threw me onto starboard sette and everthing in saloon on top of me, martha was thrown off bed feet first (bed is east west), as she scrambled up stairs there was still blue water out portal. Somehow Special Blend decided to come upright. Very quickly we got up to speed and direction then became very scared as we relived what had happened,

Lucky didn't roll, lucky I wasn't outside fighting a fish or on walkway, and really lucky to to get away with such a stupid bone-headed thing.

[Snapper Head]

Long stories are great, as long as they are interesting....this one was!

Thanks, I appreciate the compliment. As I was writing it I was reliving that morning and realized how stupid it was. There but for the grace of God go I......

Big Al

[Snapper Head]

Since when ?

j/k - you're almost ready for the literary circuit (next career phase)

Wife tells me if I wrote about only 5% of the stupid stuff I've done, it would be a best seller, if I could keep it under 20000000 pages........

Hmmmm, maybe an "Idiots Guide to Stupidity".

Big Al

[Snapper Head]

lucky, lucky, lucky

Martha and I had left New Potatoes (somthing like that) in the South Pacific, Tonga and were making a 300 mile passage to Vavau, Tonga. Seas were moderate, Martha wanted to take a nap, so as per our rules, (#1- do not go outside when alone on watch) I pulled in fishing rods.

About an hour later I spotted birds straight ahead, could'nt help it, line out, circle birds, fish on, boat in idle, autopilot on, I walk screaming rod along starboard walkway to stern, tighten drag to max with no effect. At 500 yds line goes slack, I quickly reel in line, another billy bait gone, but instead taking outside walkway back to pilot house i instead step into saloon. At that instance a "rogue"wave hit special blend on port side and rolled us onto starboard side (special blend is a trawler not sailboat) threw me onto starboard sette and everthing in saloon on top of me, martha was thrown off bed feet first (bed is east west), as she scrambled up stairs there was still blue water out portal. Somehow Special Blend decided to come upright. Very quickly we got up to speed and direction then became very scared as we relived what had happened,

Lucky didn't roll, lucky I wasn't outside fighting a fish or on walkway, and really lucky to to get away with such a stupid bone-headed thing.

Spooky I reckon there would not have been a whole lot of help available out there, had something serious happened.

I like the name 'Special Blend'.

Big Al

[HOTSPOT]

Dang good read Big Al!!!