Aside from a special little morning treat that upended our shot at bluefin the day ended strong in the success column with signature ridge variety. Bluefin tuna, ridiculous yellowtail action, and even more ridiculous late afternoon dorado catching completed the second full day of classic "yankin' and crankin" that left anglers spent, elated, and ready to celebrate; no question they earned it.

Beautiful weather kept mercifully cool by blanketing sea fog and low clouds gave way late transforming our myopic universe into a stunning, fiery panorama giving credence to old sailors jargon. "Red sky at night, sailors delight" well defined the setting of ages as revelers on deck heeded the call to notice and pay homage. From free flowing spirits and boisterous camaraderie to peaceful moments of individual profundity the crimson sun was bid farewell with reverence as any and all could not miss the scope of good fortune encompassing this space in time.

And amidst all this soul searching and/or simpler enjoyment the dorado we clobbered, and thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of their brethren continued jumping, continued breezing, continued to reveal themselves for miles and miles as we steamed south for the land of promise tomorrow. There are those times when the sheer volume of fish in this ocean is almost impossible to believe. Difficult to imagine as it was our final stop, that based on appearances could have been nothing other than the mother lode, was really only the tip of the iceberg. After leaving that stop sated in every way, shape, and form we passed through numerous areas perhaps a square quarter mile in dimension where the water was turned pure iridescent blue by legions of dorado swimming shoulder to shoulder; and every one of them was hungry, starving for a chance to join us on board.

Needless to say it takes monumental self control in these instances that call to the primal instinct. When opportunity of this degree knocks it is difficult to ignore. But, being respectful of the obvious we motored through casting hookless wax wings and surface poppers that ultimately provided a show worth the price of admission alone. In fact, we closed the final stop with fifteen or twenty minutes of such antics that marshaled a majority of spectators on the bridge whom could not help but express their enthusiasm in wild exclamations, whoops, and cheers. Some of the hookless surface popper retrieves in particular were off the scale with twenty or thirty pissed off dorado being driven to pure insanity by the skipping, unstoppable plugs.

For me the best visual by far occurred in several instances when one of the myriads of unhinged, lit up dorado couldn't stand it any longer and would come flying out of the water amongst it's fellows with the plug clenched sideways like a dog bone in it's jaws. Of course this would drive the others equally mad setting up a chain reaction of white water and electric blue mayhem as those denied struggled with the greedy, errant champion to settle the score. In the world of fishing there is really no way to quantify spectacles of such incredulity. To be believed it has to be seen. Less a frame of reference it is beyond one's ability to visualize. In other words it is time to sign up for a long range voyage. It's a fisherman's Disneyland. There is nothing that compares.

Amongst all the frenzied dorado action naturally a camera was the farthest thing from my mind. Fortunately it was not for Inside Sport Fishing camera man/producer Shea Mc Intee who should have a compilation in the category of all time. That is for another day however. Today first time Royal Star angler Cherie Swain does the honors with her morning twenty two pound bluefin tuna landed amidst the yellowtail fury. Tomorrow it is offshore tuna or bust. We are ready.

Tim Ekstrom

Photo Here...