The sea was angry that day, my friends. Two continuous bluebird days with water so flat and smooth you could see your reflection came to an end in a big way, with high winds and rain on this, my final day and last chance to land a legendary billfish in the Pacific Ocean.
As we finished our 5 a.m. breakfast under the awning at the Pacific Fins Resort in Guatemala, I could not help but worry that the bucket list item I’d traveled almost 2,000 miles to check off would go down as a near miss. Of the four fishermen who were on our boat, every other person had caught at least one billfish. I’d already been nicknamed The Dorado King, catching a three-foot dorado just 30 minutes into our first day and several others over the next two, and while they were the largest fish I’ve ever landed, it was not the reason I was here.
The Blue Marlin, an apex predator and the king of all gamefish is what I was after, but I’d be happy with a sailfish as well. The odds were against catching the elusive marlin, but these waters were loaded with sailfish with some boats landing as many as eight in a day. Feeling the rumble of thunder and watching the lightning flash on the horizon did not inspire confidence, but it was go big or go home, and I’m no quitter! The captain fired up the twin V-8s and eased the throttle forward attempting to cover 40 miles of Pacific Ocean as quickly as possible. All we could do was hold on and hope for a break in the weather.
I blame fellow classmate Gerry Ringle for putting me in this predicament. We’d gone to school together since childhood but never been close although we were always friendly toward each other. Gerry went the sports route and I became a band kid, and that was that. Then I heard him telling the story of his big game adventure in the Yukon while sitting at the bar enjoying a cigar at our 30th high school reunion, and I immediately knew I’d found a kindred spirit. We struck up a friendship, and when something interesting came along he would offer me a chance to tag along. This led to an unbelievable whitetail adventure in Alberta which resulted in a published article in Alberta Outdoorsman Magazine. Gerry has mastered the art of figuring out which buttons to hit to get me to turn loose of the money to go on these adventures, a process which many times takes more than one call or visit. He pretty much had me hooked from the start on this one, however, when he told me he’d personally caught a dozen billfish when he’d made this trip last year.
You can’t be any kind of outdoor writer without being influenced by Ernest Hemingway to some degree. The Old Man and the Sea is the ultimate man verses marlin adventure, and some would argue that it might just be the greatest outdoor story ever written. Hemingway himself pursued the marlin all over the world with fanatical exuberance. Capable of incredible speed and leaping ability, the marlin is one of the fastest and strongest gamefish on the planet, making it one of the most challenging to catch. It’s the ultimate man verses beast, and many times the beast wins by shaking the hook loose, breaking the line, or wearing the fisherman out. While I’m no Hemingway, this is my story, and I hope you enjoy it.
There were four avid sportsmen in our boat. Gerry just retired last year from owning his own construction company in north Texas. He and I are 63 years old. The senior in our group was Robert Proctor, a youthful 77-year-old adventurer who’d come to know Gerry through his own contracting business. In 1988 Robert was electrocuted in a hot tub and pronounced clinically dead. The EMTs brought him back. It took him three years to fully recover, and this experience sent him on a mission to experience life to the fullest. He’s spent the last 35 years chasing marlin and other big game critters all over the world. Robert brought his friend, the aptly named Joel Fisher, a 64 year old insurance adjuster who’d been on a number of big game fishing trips but never caught a billfish. We laughingly commented that we probably had the oldest group of fishermen of any boat in the harbor.
We got off to what appeared to be a good start. The boat’s target is the continental shelf approximately 40 miles offshore on the Pacific side of Guatemala. Numerous bait fish congregate in that area, and predatory fish move in for the kill. The boat trolls for billfish using teaser jigs off the booms on the port and starboard side. These large brightly colored rubber jigs have no hook attached, and they stay on the surface of the water while being slowly trolled behind the boat. Three addition lines with smaller rods and reels are baited up with small frozen fish that are kept in a cooler until needed. Two larger rods and reels are baited up with large bait fish that are kept in a cooler until a marlin starts slashing at the teaser jigs or one of the smaller baits, at which point the teasers are reeled in and the large bait fish is cast out to the marlin. We had just that happen within 20 minutes of beginning to troll, but the marlin did not get hooked. Twenty minutes later a big fish struck one of the smaller baits, and I took the rod and spent five minutes reeling in a threefoot- long dorado, also known as a mahi-mahi or a dolphinfish. It was the largest fish I’d ever landed.
Fishing was hit or miss that first day, with a great variety of dorado, yellow fin tuna, and bonito. At one point I became aware of a dolphin that was swimming alongside the boat. Joel was standing with his camera taking picture after picture. I looked out further and realized hundreds, or perhaps over a thousand dolphins were in a feeding frenzy on the schools of yellowfin tuna that had surfaced. It was a surreal experience, with dolphins flying out of the water and corkscrewing in the air in every direction.
They were everywhere we looked, and we realized we were seeing something special that you’d never see from the shore. We had entered the ocean’s world in a way that few are lucky enough to experience. Surprisingly, they had no interest in the bait we were trolling behind the boat or were perhaps intelligent enough to know not to strike at it. Finally in the early afternoon Robert tied into a sailfish, our first billfish of the trip. It was exciting to watch him fight the fish and see that beautiful creature shoot out of the water and dance on its tail. The guides snapped a few photos before they cut the line. A short time later Gerry caught a sailfish, and we were once again treated to the big show. Joel and I had to be content with the smaller fish we caught on that first day. Ironically we were the only two guys in the boat who’d never caught a billfish. We were not discouraged however, as we had two full days of fishing left to accomplish our mission.
On day two I was once again the first man up, and much to my disappointment, my first fish was a small bonito that wasn’t much larger than our bait. To add insult to injury, the next one was a sailfish which Joel carefully reeled in after a 10-minute battle. While I was happy for him, it was hard not to be just a little disappointed. If not for a small bonita, that fish would have been mine.
We continued to fish on this wonderful bluebird day catching a variety of fish, some of which we grilled and ate on the boat. Things changed late that afternoon when Robert tied into a blue marlin, our first of the trip. I was astounded by the beauty and majesty of this fish, with its powerful runs and tremendous speed. Robert fought it for more than 30 minutes, bringing it to the boat several times only to have it turn away and peel off more line. About 15 minutes in, one of the guides suggested he sit down or he’d get tired, to which he replied: “Hell, I’m already tired!” Finally, he got it up close enough for the guide to grab the leader. After a few pictures they clipped the line and sent the fish on its way. I congratulated Robert, who was thoroughly spent and told him I didn’t know if I would have it in me to fight a fish like that if I ever got the opportunity. As the afternoon wound down, I realized I only had one day left to accomplish my bucket list goal. It was hard to hide my disappointment as we made the 40-mile ride back to shore, and the guys could sense it.
That night at dinner, Robert told me that they had visited amongst themselves and agreed that any billfish that took the bait on that last day would be given to me even if it wasn’t my turn. I was extremely grateful as I planned to write an article about my experiences and hopefully check off a major bucket list item.
Editor’s note: This is part one of a two-part story.
