Trolling the Big Water in Winter

Lying in bed wide awake, waiting for the alarm to sound, I contemplated what I was about to do. My nephew Tim had invited me to join him for a day of trolling for big fish in the middle of January. It was not a prospect I had considered before. I have targeted brown trout in March and April, Chinook Salmon and steelhead in June and July and Northern pike in September and October, but this was going to be something different. As I got dressed and gathered my gear, I was unsure how this day would play out. I had never trolled in conditions like this. We drove to the marina under cloudy skies just starting to lighten with the imminent sunrise. The morning was cool and some of the locals had put on an extra layer of clothing. We would be going out on the sport fishing craft “Valerie”. The captain was a burly local, skin darkened from years on the water exposed to sun and wind. He knew this water well and it was his job to put us on the fish. Our two mates for the day were also experienced anglers. They would set the lines, select the lures and manage all aspects of the trip, including assisting us in getting fish in the boat. After we exchanged pleasantries with the crew and stowed our gear, the captain powered up the Valerie, backed away from the moorings and proceeded out of the marina toward the vast expanse of water before us. Joining the party were my wife Pam and Tim’s wife Jennifer. Pam does not typically accompany me fishing, especially on big water. Her presence made this outing special.

I was apprehensive about our prospects or what fish we would be targeting. I overheard Tim talking to Roberto, the captain. He declared that we would be going after Yellowfin Tuna. Cool, I’ve never caught one of those! Oh, did I mention we were fishing the waters of the Pacific Ocean out of Cabo San Lucas, Mexico? You didn’t think I was going out on Lake Michigan in January, did you? That would be insane. Pam being aboard should have been your first clue. Roberto steered the Valarie west, away from the Baja Peninsula. Boats were trolling the shallow waters along the coast.  Others were heading out into the deeper water. Depths in this region of the Pacific plunge to over seven thousand feet. The water temperature was 74°F about the same as the air. Salvador and Roberto, Jr, the captain’s son, busied themselves preparing the rods and selecting lures while Pam, Jennifer, Tim and I enjoyed the sunrise and the balmy Pacific breeze. We were cruising along at eighteen knots about fifteen miles offshore, when the Valarie suddenly slowed to trolling speed. Roberto had found the spot. As the two mates deployed lines, we all noticed some Bottlenosed Dolphins swimming near the boat. Then we saw more, lots more. We realized we were surrounded by hundreds of dolphins, breeching, lunging and leaping out of the water. They were feeding on something. This is what our captain was looking for. Whether the dolphins were feeding on tuna or the tuna and the dolphins were feeding the same prey, Roberto’s experience told him that when you find large groups of dolphins you are likely to find Yellowfin Tuna. This is where we would start our hunt.

Soon we had eight lines in the water. All aboard intently watched the arhythmic action of the rods as the lures moved enticingly through the water. We did not have to wait long. I spotted one of the rods off the transom bend sharply, responding to the weight of a fish. Salvador removed the rod from the holder, ready to hand it off to the first angler up. Pam, being the least experienced, was to have that opportunity. However, she declined the privilege, being a little intimidated by the unfamiliar equipment and the lunging of what appeared to be a large fish. Tim yelled “Uncle Bruce, take it!”, so I jumped into the fighting chair and Salvador handed me the rod. I immediately felt the power of the fish. Despite the stout rod and heavy line, the fish took line off the spool. I could recover line only by pumping the rod using my entire body for leverage. The Penn reel on the rod had a gear ratio that allowed me to gain some ground on each pump. Despite these advantages, by the time the fish neared the boat, my fingers were gnarled up and my forearms ached. None too soon, Salvador leaned over the gunnel and got a gaff into the fish. Roberto, Jr secured the fish with a second gaff and they both lifted the fish into the boat. There at my feet, was a thrashing, quivering fish. It reminded me of a scene from “The Perfect Storm”, except this was not a Swordfish, but a Yellowfin Tuna. A magnificent animal, my first. The fish had a dark back and a white belly with a bright yellow band running the full length of its body. Serrated toothlike finlets ran from the dorsal and ventral fins to the tail. It was shaped like the perfect swimming machine. Looking down on this fish, I had the same mixed of feelings I have whenever I battle such a fish. A sense of accomplishment as well as humility and sadness for having removed the fish from its environment. Catch and release was not an option in this case. The gaffing denied that. However, the prospect of fresh salmon steaks for dinner tonight assuaged some of my misgivings.  Salvador estimated the weight to be over forty pounds. I struggled to lift the fish for the obligatory pic. Soon that fish was in the box, covered with ice, and we resumed our quest.  

The lures we were using are interesting. That first fish was caught on an unpainted wooden jig about six inches long with single hook. It looked like the most unlikely lure. We also used rubber lures with wings that were supposed to mimic the shape and action of a flying fish. Later in the morning, as the bite waned, Salvador strung a couple of ballyhoo on hooks and deployed those. These all caught fish. Surprisingly, the baits were run only about fifty feet back in the wake of the boat near the surface.

We did not have to wait long for the next opportunity. This time Pam took her place in “the chair”. Despite her lack of experience, with Salvador and Roberto assisting, Pam was soon pumping and reeling the fish like a pro. She brought the lunging tuna to boatside, and Salvador lifted the fish into the boat. To my best recollection, the last time Pam caught a fish was the year before we were married. That’s a long dry spell. As I took the picture of Pam standing next to her tuna, I flashed back to a grainy image of her holding a largemouth bass at Hartman Creek State Park, fifty three years ago.

The action continued. Tim boated the fish of the day, a beautiful specimen close to fifty pounds. Jennifer took her turn and battled another nice tuna. When it came time for her picture, she appeared to give the fish a big hug.   At one point we had three tuna on at once, requiring Tim and I to fight the fish standing on the rolling deck without use of the stable fighting chair. It was wild. All this time, we were entertained by the multitude of dolphins careening around the boat. Soon we were joined by a couple of other boats, perhaps spotting our success. Eventually, Roberto, Sr. decided to leave this spot and find another. I questioned that decision as we were catching fish, however soon the captain found another group of feeding dolphins and the bite resumed. I should know better than to question the captain. By noon we had harvested a dozen tuna. I was the only one of the party to lose a fish as we went 12 for 13. The cooler and live well were overflowing with tuna, so we decided this was a great time to head back to Los Cabo. As we ate our lunch cruising over the blue Pacific Ocean back to the marina, we relived each moment of our fishing experience. Arriving back at the marina, the fish were off loaded, more pictures taken, and the tuna were cleaned and bagged by some local fishermen. We had an incredible amount of tuna filets.

That evening, as we feasted on the delectably seared tuna steaks, I thanked Tim and Jennifer for inviting us along on this adventure. I have done a lot of trolling for big fish on Lake Michigan, and in many ways this trip was not that much different than targeting salmon or steelhead. Well, except we caught tuna not salmonids, Pam was along, and I did not have to wear as much clothing. Although I assume the salmon are out there somewhere on the lake in the winter, I will continue to confine my pursuit of them to the warmer months and my winter trolling to the Southern climes. Adios, amigos.

So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, Bruce

Questions or comments to bsmith733@gmail.com