I can't disclose where we went, but I can tell you this; Capt. Horsley knows his stuff. We spotted over 40 nice cobia through out the day while taking turns in the tower. The man does his job well. I, on the other hand, sucked. I had several chances and screwed them all up. Being 12 feet, or maybe more, up in a tower is big difference from sitting on the surface. Almost all my casts were over thrown and when I tried to compensate, I was either too short of off to the side. Did I mention I sucked.
My boss hooked several and landed two. Fred landed one. My frustration was starting to get the better of me when I finally got a cobia to eat. I watched the big beautiful fish give chase and take the bucktail. I set the hook, and as the rod loaded, the tension suddenly disappeared. I was tip wrapped. I stared at the curled inch of braid on the end of my rod in utter disbelief. The wind that was blowing in my face had made a loop over the first guide as I bounced the bucktail just under the surface. It felt like a big fuck you from the fishing gods and I was left speechless. In sharp contrast however, an amazing explosion of expletives came bursting out of Capt. Horsley. It was as if he was fishing "through" me and couldn't believe what just happened.
And of course, soon after, the storm clouds showed up and the day ended before I was able to hook into another.
|Fred Murray, Capt. Tony Horsley, Bob Shepherd and that guy who can't cast.|
Even though I'm smiling, I really, really hate holding someone else's fish.
I'm gonna catch that brown clown.