"I shouldn't have had that last glass of Crown," I thought to myself, as I got up to an already-up sun and scratched my head...

My gorgeous fiancee was already at the bathroom vanity poking at her hair and dabbing her face with makeup... all the stuff that we as males, will never understand...

It was about 4:30am Hawaii time, and I wasn't ready to leave. But I brushed my teeth in a hurry, drank a beer (don't try that in this order), grabbed my boardshorts, sunscreen, shades, and hit the road.

From Ka'anapali (Maui) where we stayed, it was about 10-15 minutes to Lahaina Harbor, where we were to meet with the Start Me Up Sportfishing crew for an 8 hour adventure on the water. I was excited because I'm always excited to immerse myself in other cultures - finding out how they do things, what they rely on, and where their theories and values lay.

Maui was no different; I wanted to become one with the freaks, the locals, the wise old men, the bearded ladies, and drunken fire eaters that could crush you with a piece of fire coral like an angry tiki god. The food had been exceptional, the land was gorgeous and giving, the drink was plentiful, and the entertainment - vast; now I was well on my way to completing another part of this roller coaster trip to the islands... fishing the turquoise and indigo blue waters for a day...

I remember hearing something on the television in the room the night prior - something Maui (or maybe Hawaii) being on the same lines of latitude as the Sahara Desert - that the sun stayed in the center of the sky for most of the day in the summer... and it was already beginning to feel that way as we carted out that morning.

We were the last to get there, and the skipper (Ryan aka 'Rhino') was surprised that we did not have food or drink with us. The boat was a Bertram, I think a 37 footer, but to my knowledge they refer to it as the 42. Got on board and everyone dunked their colas and waters in the ice chests aboard. I felt really dumb, but like any savage man, I didn't want to ask them to hold the trip up so I could go and buy water from the corner mart, so I figured I'd just suffer through it and have a good time and swallow my own spit for the 8hrs. What about my fiancee? Well what about her, she's a savage as well!

We met the other riders and were off...

Yup. Those are barreled-out 130 reels. And yes, the rods are really that fat. And yes, you can really see the mono, and it is that thick... "Jesus," I thought... "are we going after the mother orca of them all?"

Truth is, down there - you've got a few major species: ahi (yellowfin), ono (wahoo), mahi mahi (dorado or dolphin), ulua (giant trevally) and of course a'u (marlin)... Sure the rods and reels we use in California would be grand if we were going after the all but the latter... especially when the latter could be upwards of five hundred to a thousand pounds... who knows what the waters have to offer on any given day... so hence, the goliath gear... I went inside and relaxed with my old lady, who decided she'd pass out on the couch... The cabin was comfortable, but don't expect the Beverly Hills Polo lounge, this is a man's boat and while you can still relax inside of it - it was designed to do one thing, and one thing only - to take Neptune's scaly pets from the depths of the sea.

This boat was big on trolling, I understand that most Hawaiian sportboats and serious fisherman are (that and surface popping or chunking)... So troll we did... one hour... two hour... sun hotter and higher in the sky... three hours... beads of sweat and no fucking water in sight... too humble (aka stupid) to ask... three hours... hotter now, browner skin... irish friend is burning... and four hours... calls on the radio on the bridge... other boats are getting their ono at the NASA buoy... we are now roughly 35-40 miles off of Maui - the boat was hauling ass and burning gas (I understood why we paid what we did to go out that day)...

To a native Southern Californian, who fishes the surface iron, flylines sardines, and uses live squid on the dropper loop, all this trolling seemed tiresome, and the sea was soon turning from indigo to tar-black as my eyes fought to keep the sunscreen out... but I relented - understood that I was not in California, and that I should be soaking up every bit of beauty on this lovely trip - from the gorgeous blue water, to the white-hot sun straight up in the center of the sky, to the fact my throat felt like a cat pissed in my mouth... I believed in the Hawaiian way, the traditions, my own salty luck, but most of all the skipper and his deckhand, Brandon (who was a captain too), who had been true to Hawaiian customs and kept plowing on... I knew they wanted us to catch as bad as I did, and so I bit my lip and sat back on the face-forward bench on the bridge, enjoying the breeze.

You could tell that everyone was happy to be out... but also, there was this ominous quiet aboard the boat... The skipper was focused, as was the deckhand, and we circled over ever piece of debris we could find - waiting for those four lines to snap off the rigger and give us the action and wailing cries we craved. It was about 5 hours into it and we'd followed dolphin pods, chased diving birds, and were out on an extremely quiet ocean when we all saw what looked like a speck of white (maybe a seagull?) way off into the distance...

"Looks like a dead whale," said the skipper.

"No it looks like a flock of birds in the water," said the deckhand.

Either way, we were full-steam ahead and all guns were drawn, our hearts beating and hope growing - with our fingers crossed that maybe, just maybe this might be the break we were looking for...

Upon closer examination - was it a whale, a flock of birds, a Buick maybe? No, a giant piece of driftwood - about 40 miles out - with two dumb birds sitting on top... tons of splashing all around... Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (WTF) is going on?

As soon as we made our first pass on the log - two things happen at the same time that gave the crew, the other riders, and yours truly the biggest surge of adrenaline: we look down into the water and hundreds upon hundreds of mahi are flashing all their brilliant, angry, and fiery colors - shades of blue, and green, and gold - spectacular and curious - mouths open and ready to eat... and the second thing? well the most important, of course - all four lines snapped and the reels zipped with furious clicks - giving line out all at the same time... I was in heaven. Each person is given a number, and I was 2nd to last. I didn't care - I was too blown away and stunned by the way these bastards were chasing the boat, the surface lures - hopping in and out of the water - literally hundreds of them...

They were by no means HUGE, but they were of decent size (some not so much, some were bulls) - but they were onto us, and wanted to become taco, filet, cajun style, Lord of the Flies on the beach style - they didn't care... they were "Ready to Die" like The Notorious B.I.G.'s debut, and they were letting us know, "please eat me," as they fought with one another to get to the lure first!

There's Irish Mike from New York holding onto the reel, waiting for another pass. As we were circling, all you would have to do is give the line a couple jingles like you were on Lorenzo's bus, from Deniro's "A Bronx Tale," and you'd be on - no question about it - this place had busted wide open, and we had it all to ourselves...

Both the skipper and the deckhand were quick with the grabs, but eventually it got to be so crazy and we had so many mahi thrashing about the boat with hooks in their mouth, that we all had to help out. I had to "Randy the Ram" many of the strong-strongs, while Brandon (seen above with the Hawaiian symbol for 'safety over water') unhooked them, and put them in the coffin-sized kill bags aboard the 'Ladat'.

Arizona Eric hooked up to a good set... I would switch on and off with him as we made what seemed to be at least 30 circles around that piece of driftwood... get a load of that calm water... nothing in sight for miles. Prior to this, I think Eric had only fished lakes and so on, so this was a first for him... so cut him some slack on the look of intense focus there...

We had minor surface cuts on the backs of our calves which made us feel like men. Some of the folks who wore slippas (Hawaiian for flip-flops) got their toes bit by the tasty mahi, as a last shot at revenge. It was time to say goodbye to the driftwood in the middle of Fuck Knows Where, Hawaii... time to reel in the lines, slap fives, laugh a little, drink the deckhand's water(s) (thank God!) and talk to the skipper - who was now in a good mood again. The dorado chased us, jumping and snarling out of the water as we kicked into full-gear... They wanted more. They wanted their rubber squids back. There were bags full of fish. The town would get fat tonight and the crew would make a little money. Like a scene out of the good ol' day movies, where everyone came out grinning...

There's me and my favorite on the bridge. She finally got up. She was supposed to be the one taking all these photos while I stayed on the fish... but it worked out. Did I mention that she paid for the trip that day? The same gal who hooked up the new Accurate B2-50 and BX2-600 for me at Fred Hall... umm yeah, I kinda fucking hooked a grander! All kidding aside, she's the best, and I love her for it. I'll never forget that day.

The ride back to Maui was a glorious one. The sights were a plenty. I was hoping to see a Great White breach and eat these two bastards that were doing the touch-and-go on a parasailing outfit. It never happened - I guess the day wasn't perfect. But good nonetheless...

As we made it back to Lahaina Harbor, in all its rich texture, vivid color, and amazing history, we felt like miniature champions. We had each spoken with countless other seafaring bastards that had paid good dollar to go out with other outfits and on other days, only to come back with one ono, or even lose it at color - right before the gaff!

"Poor bastards," I thought, "could'a been me..."

1/4 kill bags filled to the furburger with eating fish. Don't ask me about that nerf football tuna in there.

Even that sonofabitch got bought though... Grape Kool-Aid, anybody? "Oh-Yeah!" (Kool Aid Man Voice).

Fish buyers, sellers, and tourists lined the docks... Ooh's and ahh's ensued. It was blazing-hot.

Check out dude's neck. And he's from AZ. Ouch.

Some were definitely small. Some not so much. Some bulls got bought the second we got off the boat - the local restauranteurs mobbed us and pulled them from the deckhand's bag or ice-trays flashing money wildly in their face as they held the fish out of reach - it was bananas (and an amazing sight to see)! The good news was, that none of the fish were wasted...

More people came by to purchase the fish (see above) -
"I'll take that one, and that one, and that one," he's saying...
See, he wants the nerf football tuna!

And yet another buyer... Notice it's a different shirt.
This guy was definitely more cutthroat and got
the crew bartering right away... He left with a big bag.

Here's Irish Mike and his Ahi. Notice the zoom lens I created just for you,

focusing in on the blood spatters all over his brand new shirt. Friday 13th!

Here's me being an "untrained angler" and
making the mahi look super-sized... Meh.

There's our skipper, Rhino, playing nice with the tourists.

*The mark of a good day on the water? You gotta believe the airport held
my bags another day wondering what the hell I was transporting back...

It had been a searing day. My skin was like volcanic ash,
and the aloe and beer were my two best friends...
We hit the Fish House in Lahaina as I stared at all
the other fish I wish I had caught - the true angler
always thinks about the ones he didn't get...

Only one way to end this day:



Embarrassing-looking fruity drinks with my best friend...

- I had a blast.

- Big thanks to the Start Me Up Sportfishing Crew, and Ladat Boat - Capt. Rhino & Brandon.

- Big thanks to Bloodydecks.com for putting us together.

- Huge thanks to my girl for the sweet gift, and being such a good sport on that rocky boat ride!

...and thank you for reading this long report.

-----------------------------

Two quick off-topic photos:

Tackle selection at Longs Drugs in Lahaina kinda
puts some local mainland operations to shame haha.

There were $200 reels in the case!

Here's Lahaina, completely blue @ dusk... I was a little tipsy here (hey, I was on vacation!),

just wading in the beautiful, warm waters. IMO, the moored-up boats made the shot.

Ps - I bought a small whipping rod, some grubs, and surface poppers at West Maui Sports for a really cheap $20 or $30 bucks... while I never got close enough to get anything off the beach, I did hand the new rod off to Eric, one of the valets at the Westin (nice guy), and I'm sure he'll catch...

That's Aloha!

 

Friday was finally here... The day I'd been waiting for for 2 weeks now (since i missed the trip last week)... I was stuck at a work function 'til late afternoon and it was raining to high hell in the City of Industry, where I was sent out on-conference for my day-job. As soon as we were released from the conference and I packed up all the shit I'd brought, I was on the I-5 South and headed straight for H&M Landing in San Diego where I was to jump aboard the Constitution. Captain Joe Phillips was hooking us up with another amazing deal at only $195 USD for the 1.5 day adventure to Punta Colonet - food and snacks included. I'd heard about the Constitution motto, Good Food, and Plenty of It, but didn't take it to seriously at first... that was until i showed up about 3 and half hours later - through friday traffic and was met with tasty party/snack platters and plenty of cold drink. As I checked in and was greeted by Captain Joe, I noticed that most of the 19 anglers set to board were already there, and had their rods in place, and dicks-in-hand - ready to get moving down south, where we were to fish giant reds and ugly blue-meat lings that would feel good in our round bellies. A couple of other guys showed up and we were off... Let me start out by saying that there were no cocksuckers onboard. Everyone seemed like mild-mannered good people, including the staff. Saw some BloodyDecks.com members as well - there was Jason, Martin, Bubba, and of course El Buso himself. After a short safety and "no heroin smuggling across the border" huddle, we were off to Colonet... and in good time.

I woke up Saturday morning at about 615am and the sea, to my amazement was looking gorgeous... I munched on a delicious breakfast burrito and drank two bottles of water. We were about an hour away from first dump-in, and i was still in awe at how gorgeous the conditions were... especially considering that all of my chump-friends that didn't wanna come out this weekend because of "foul weather," were getting pounded with buckets of rain back in Cali...

I'm not kidding when i say it was lake-flat out there. The lightweight 3oz Shimano Lucanus jig was on fire in the morning - pinks and whites, as well as bait-blues were knockin' 'em dead... I stayed fishing the Lucanus for a while in blue, hoping to hit some deep-ridge-riding elusive Yellowtails, but instead got some pretty nice fat reds... hey, life is still good, right baby? I looked around, and realized that the live sardines were mashing on the Lings left and right, and my main man Bobby "Weeds" had his bag full of 'em in a matter of minutes... Dude must've had the ugly gods on his side because I looked in his bag an hour or so later, and you couldn't close the top of the sack with a zip tie if you tried... everyone else seemed to be in the same boat (pun intended).

That's Brett (above); he had two fat Lings (same size) on that one line... this happened a couple more times... Captain Joe Phillips really put us on those ugly tasteys. On more than a few drops, i would hit bottom and immediate feel a strike, and then watch as my rod bent a bit. I would set the hook, wait a couple moments, and then watch as the rod literally bent in half! Upon seeing color, I realized I had two fat, gorgeous reds on one line (on sardine). I would drop her down again and wait for the 8 ounce sinker to hit bottom, and right away - thump... then... THUMP!!!! (big bend) - and up would come two deliciofresh salmon groupers on one line. This story kept playing over and over - filling our bags up really quickly with great freezer-meat, and giving us good time to talk some shit and share some nautical comaradery while onboard the Constitution. There were good times all around - people were laughing, making fun of the foul-hooked little guys, and just all around happy... there was no bitching to be heard, and no dirty looks, or "get out of my spots" to be found (which is very important to me on a trip where you're in close quarters for more than 5-8 hours). Just about 45 minutes into it, we had fat grab bags full of Lings, Reds, Whites, and Starries. We stayed in the same spot for a bit longer, then headed towards a big bait boil we saw under some diving birds. It looked like piranha-fever or like some wild shit was breaking out - temperamentally moving away from us, then methodically back towards our boat. The gulls were going ape shit too, so we were full-steam ahead towards the action... (excuse the no-pics here, i was too excited to be snapping away, and rigging up with some surface irons for the possible Bonito bite)... As we got in position for the boil to come to us, we realized that to our disappointment, they were all just big-ass Mackerel, but a few of us threw in anyhow, wanting to get some nice strip bait. At about 3rd cast, Brett (seen above with the Ling) got nailed by a little 3lb or 4lb Bonito. We brought her on board and I put my foot on her while they unhooked her. Then came the yelp and squawks (WTF, I didn't know they were so vocal?!) right before she was turned into bait for the big Reds. Brett later had a nice Bonito hookup on the troll (bigger this time), using a light blue and white Rapala with black markings... good shit.

We got to limits at just about the right time. As evening hit, we began fishing the choppier waters, and while it was still righteous, it was turning our arms into the Incredible Hulk on crack, and we had had the greatest time aboard the ship, it was now time for good rest and the delicious steak with baked potato and sweet corn meal that Joe (the cook) had cooked to perfection in the galley... Our second sacks were full of quality Reds and fat Mexican Reds, Lings, Groupers, Giant Whitefish, and Starry Eyes, and we were ready to sit our tired asses down for a some land lover meat.

Some beauties on deck before they harvested 'em all from below deck

Enough taco meat to start your own Rubio's

A great mix of starry eye, lings, and big reds

Can you spot the jackpot fish yet?

Nasty ol' gill rakers

Brett Kopitz of Sylmar, CA with a nice fat red

Jaws: How it was written aboard the Constitution on that fateful Saturday

Jackpot: "The Crocodile Hunter" - second Jackpot in a row I've lost to a lady!

In closing (and I know that this was long review/report, but also hope you've enjoyed reading), I have gotta say that the trip was a success in all facets. Being as I was one of the last on, and got side-tracked by the good food Joe the Cook had set aside in the galley for us upon entrance, I ended up sleeping in the submarine bunk, perpendicular to the point of the bow. Even then, I had a fucking awesome time: great crew, great deckhands (quick with the gaff and tangles), and an excellent Captain who knew where the hell the fish were... All of that on top of good people like Jason, Mac, Norm, Bubba, Paul, Brett, Bobby, and Martin (amongst others) made this a great warm-weather trip... and what's more is we're in the middle of gatdamn January!!! The consensus all around by the seasoned vets and good-timers was "yes, I would definitely fish the Constitution again - this boat has been great." Keep the good times a'comin...