I headed out this morning with two guys that I "knew" through Spearboard, but had never met in person.
One was Ron Warren (Captn Ron) and of course he is a veteran. The other was Blain Morgan (BMorgan). He only recently got into spearfishing, and prior to today had speared just one fish- a 23 pound sheephead. That is a hell of a sheephead to start with, but still he didn't have much experience.
The first place we stopped had decent vis, but a water temp of 54-55. We worked it until we were numb, and it seemed pretty dead. So we moved a couple of miles to another bed, and the water temp there was a much more hospitable 59, although the vis was only about 10 feet. I went down the outside of the bed, and Ron and Blain were over toward the inside. I didn't find any fish except clouds of sand bass, so I went back to the boat for some warm water therapy.
As soon as I got in the boat, I saw that the guys were next to each other, and figured that was a good sign, since one of them might be helping the other with a fish. Then they separated, with one swimming back to the boat while the other continued diving. I figured that the guy coming back must be Ron with a fish. When he got close enough, I shouted and asked if he got a fish, and got a big thumbs up. But I also noticed that the mask had an amber tint, so it was Blain. I also noticed the blinding glare of his big smile.
I gaffed the fish and pulled it into the boat, and was overcome with giggling interspersed with intermittent sobbing. Here was this damn newbie, and his second fish of any kind ever was a big white sea bass. We weighed it about 43 pounds, gutted it, and put it on ice.
He said he was on the way up from a dive and this fish just swam slowly in front of him at close range, so he shot it. At first he thought he had missed because he didn't feel anything, but then he felt a bit of tugging, but he breakaway was never pulled out of the gun. We had briefed him on what a hard fight he would face if he speared one and told him that he had to call one of us for help. He didn't know what else to do, so he shouted for Ron. Ron came over and said, "OK, go ahead and dive for it." And Blain replied "but its right there." He had stoned it.
Aaargh! There is no God!
But at least he was properly equipped right? Well, not really. Last week he rigged up a surf ski with a laundry basket to hold gear and went off the beach to try it out. It got blown over, and he was able to grab all his gear except for the brand new pair of Picasso Black Team fins that he had just purchased the day before. Those were lost. So today he was wearing a pair of bright orange body surfing fins that must have been at least 12" long.
I think I need new fins.
And so how did Ron and I do? Well of course being the gentlemen that we are, we didn't want to spoil the perfection of his day by diluting the attention, so we didn't shoot a thing.
Now comes the tragic part. I took lots of photos the fish, and even of the fins, but my memory card seems to be corrupted, and I can't upload anything to the computer. I feel so damn bad about this. A guy should have a photo of a 43 pound white sea bass, especially when its the second fish he ever shot.
Other than that downer, I can't recall when I've had so much fun without getting a fish myself. I hope he gets another one next trip with me, but I hope one of these days I get one myself.
One was Ron Warren (Captn Ron) and of course he is a veteran. The other was Blain Morgan (BMorgan). He only recently got into spearfishing, and prior to today had speared just one fish- a 23 pound sheephead. That is a hell of a sheephead to start with, but still he didn't have much experience.
The first place we stopped had decent vis, but a water temp of 54-55. We worked it until we were numb, and it seemed pretty dead. So we moved a couple of miles to another bed, and the water temp there was a much more hospitable 59, although the vis was only about 10 feet. I went down the outside of the bed, and Ron and Blain were over toward the inside. I didn't find any fish except clouds of sand bass, so I went back to the boat for some warm water therapy.
As soon as I got in the boat, I saw that the guys were next to each other, and figured that was a good sign, since one of them might be helping the other with a fish. Then they separated, with one swimming back to the boat while the other continued diving. I figured that the guy coming back must be Ron with a fish. When he got close enough, I shouted and asked if he got a fish, and got a big thumbs up. But I also noticed that the mask had an amber tint, so it was Blain. I also noticed the blinding glare of his big smile.
I gaffed the fish and pulled it into the boat, and was overcome with giggling interspersed with intermittent sobbing. Here was this damn newbie, and his second fish of any kind ever was a big white sea bass. We weighed it about 43 pounds, gutted it, and put it on ice.
He said he was on the way up from a dive and this fish just swam slowly in front of him at close range, so he shot it. At first he thought he had missed because he didn't feel anything, but then he felt a bit of tugging, but he breakaway was never pulled out of the gun. We had briefed him on what a hard fight he would face if he speared one and told him that he had to call one of us for help. He didn't know what else to do, so he shouted for Ron. Ron came over and said, "OK, go ahead and dive for it." And Blain replied "but its right there." He had stoned it.
Aaargh! There is no God!
But at least he was properly equipped right? Well, not really. Last week he rigged up a surf ski with a laundry basket to hold gear and went off the beach to try it out. It got blown over, and he was able to grab all his gear except for the brand new pair of Picasso Black Team fins that he had just purchased the day before. Those were lost. So today he was wearing a pair of bright orange body surfing fins that must have been at least 12" long.
I think I need new fins.
And so how did Ron and I do? Well of course being the gentlemen that we are, we didn't want to spoil the perfection of his day by diluting the attention, so we didn't shoot a thing.
Now comes the tragic part. I took lots of photos the fish, and even of the fins, but my memory card seems to be corrupted, and I can't upload anything to the computer. I feel so damn bad about this. A guy should have a photo of a 43 pound white sea bass, especially when its the second fish he ever shot.
Other than that downer, I can't recall when I've had so much fun without getting a fish myself. I hope he gets another one next trip with me, but I hope one of these days I get one myself.
