Big Blue Redemption

It was the first trip out for them this year.  Tide was just starting to drop and the sun began dipping behind the trees.  As with most trips I smiled after my first few paddle strokes and gratitude filled for the opportunity to spend some time on the water.  I slow trolled two rods, one with a big crankbait and one with a live bait, hoping to find a good school.  It took a little longer than I expected, but eventually hooked into a good one.

This is my fifth year chasing trophy bluefish in Old Dominion.  Virginia's release citation length for the yellow eyed demon is 36" and every year I've come up just a tiny bit short.  Thing is, weeding through a ton of upper 20" and lower 30" fish to hook up with a paper contender is no easy task. 
The last couple of years, I decided to just let it happen when it happens, enjoy the fights even if it's not a trophy, and not get so bent out of shape like I did in the early years.  2017 was no different.  Heck, as busy as I've been, just finding the time to get out was a joy in itself. 

This one got my heart rate up though.  It was strong.  Streaking away, more line peeled off of the tight drag than I expected.  It came to the surface and thrashed but I couldn't get a good look at it from that distance and low light.  It tucked it's head back under, went on another impressive run and all of a sudden, the line went slack.  The treble pulled and my heart sank.  But I didn't dwell on it.  It wasn't the first time that's happened and I know it won't be the last.  Plus, there's never just one bluefish.  Where there's one, there's a bunch.  I quickly got set back up and just like I thought, it wasn't long before I had another rod bent over.  This one wasn't nearly as strong.  And neither were the next 7 or 8.  Eventually the action slowed and I decided to call it.  I had a good time, it was getting late, and the citation will happen when it happens.

However, trolling my way out of the area got a mean take down.  Line peeled quickly but it came unbuttoned before I could pick up the rod.  And you know what that means.  I couldn't leave on that note.  I was on my second pass trolling back and forth when I got another hook up.  The strength impressed me again like the first one but I was able to get it to the boat fairly quickly.  I turned on my head lamp and that's when it decided to put on a show.  I held on tight as it spun the kayak furiously.  Then with gills all flared out, like tarpon in one of those fishporn clips, it tail walked several feet before going on another drag peeling run.  All the while, as I'm enjoying the fight, in a strange way I just assumed it wasn't going to be a trophy.  I guess all the others over the years that felt similar but kept coming up short conditioned me not to get my hopes up.  That was until I got the lip grip on it and had it laying in my footwell.  It was bigger than I thought it would be.  To be sure of the measurement I went to shore and laid it out.

Of course, I didn't bring a decent camera so a phone selfie is all I got.

Finally.

RUCKUS

Letter to Sir Esox Masquinongy

Dear Sir Esox, Monsieur Muskellunge, if I may just call you Musky,

Without question your reputation precedes you.  Many anglers consider you The Don of the freshwater sport fishing world and your "fish of 10,000 casts" moniker seems well deserved.  General consensus is that you're a bad futhamucka and I have admired you for many years without realizing how close you actually were.  

Last year I went looking for you on the New River and only caught several glimpses as you followed my lure. You reminded me of my friend the Cobia.  You're both very curious and willing to follow my offerings but sometimes you just lose interest.  And don't take this the wrong way but you guys act just like cats.  Not catfish; not trying to insult you; I mean cats.  You guys will show interest in something, slowly follow it, stalk it, get ready to pounce and attack, but then if it doesn't get scared or try to get away you don't care anymore.  I guess it's just not fun for you if they're just sitting there.  For example, there is a cat toy that is a feather on a string attached to short wand.  If you put that feather in front of a cat, it'll just roll it's eyes at you.  But if you twitch it right and make it act as if it's trying the get away, it gets destroyed.  Yeah, that's you.  It's like you take pleasure in scaring the crap out of the little fish, making it freak out, swim for it's life, all the while knowing you're just going to come with a burst of speed like a goddamn tiger and chomp down on it's sorry ass.  You're a sadistic predator and I know you give zerofux.  Ain't no shame in your game and that's one of the reasons I was so delighted to make your acquaintance last week.

When I found out that I could find you in the upper James River I went all stage-five-clinger mode and google earth'd the ever loving satellite view out of your neighborhood.  I'm not afraid to admit it.  I stalked the shit out of you.  It put me an hour closer to home than the New River and there's something special about the fact that the same water from the upper James leads to Richmond, my home town, and hundreds of miles later, down to the Chesapeake where I chase all my favorite saltwater species.  It kinda of brings you and Cobia a little closer in my mind.  

What's different about you though, is that it's much more of a mental game.  Throwing huge lures all day is no joke.  Cast after cast after cast, while making sure the lure is doing what it's supposed to, it's easy to start second guessing yourself.  There were creeks dumping into the river, nice rocky drop offs and all the other things you like to hang around, but I started to wonder if you're even in the area.  The wind was pushing me down the river way too fast, the sandwich from earlier wasn't cutting it, I was dreading the 2.5 hour drive back home, the cold was punishing my feet, but still I kept casting.  And casting.  And casting.  I tried to maintain focus but it did become dreadfully monotonous.  Until the moment came.  On my 6th trip (2nd to the James), you surprised the hell out of me and I fooled you into chomping on my 10" glidebait.  

The sudden shock of your weight on the line, the head shakes, the streaking side to side, spinning me around a bit, your violent thrashing near the kayak, I thank you for the thrill I was hoping for.  

All 41" of you, with that emerald iridescence on your back (that doesn't show up well in photos), the attitude, them teeth, I couldn't have asked for a finer specimen for my 1st musky and the experience was definitely an affirmation of your reputation.

On a side note, you've obviously been eating pretty damn good.  You had quite the dunlap going. 

Your belly dun lap over my fingers

I plan to be back in your neighborhood in the near future.
Don't be shy.

Until next time,

-RMFC

The New Tridents are Here!

Having been a part of the design counsel for the new 2017 versions, I am very proud to announce the arrival of the revamped Ocean Kayak Trident Series.  The legendary hull remains the same but the topside has some major upgrades.

More info here...

How to Revive and Release Big Reds (VIDEO)

The crew has been on the big red drum this fall at the CBBT.  Jay Brooks got a 47"er that won the red drum division of the 12th Annual TKAA charity tournament.  And of course Drum Jesus, Kayak Kevin, has been on 'em.  

We've noticed a disturbing trend though.  Many people haven't been reviving the fish correctly before releasing them.  They are old fish that are protected by law and deserve our respect so watch this video before going after them.  Let's do it right, homies.

Skinny Sweetwater Sightfishing (Video)

After chasing an open water salt specie for a while, I decided to switch it up and check out some skinny sweetwater areas.

My ninja, Wayne Tu stuck a nice bass on a frog and I managed to sight cast to a decent bowfin.

As fun as it was, I suspect it will be time to go back and play with our bigger brinier friends soon.  Hope to see you all out there.

Consolation Citation Cobia

After 3 months of major adulting, I was finally able to get away.  The combination of buying a new house, trying to sell the old one, office life, and of course daddy life kept me off the water for what felt like an eternity.  However the window of opportunity came just in time for me to look for cobia before the season closed. 

Machine gun fire from the near by military base set the tone for the day as I launched the Ultra 4.7 into glassy conditions under the CBBT.  It felt like a search and destroy mission since it was the last chance I was going to have to bring home a keeper cobia before the season closes.  Plus it was my third trip in less than 3 weeks so I was feeling a little vindictive.  The first trip involved a ridiculous amount of paddling, not seeing a single fish, and a sour Asian.  On the 2nd trip I did manage a mid 30"er (minimum is 40" to keep).  I knew it would be short but I casted anyway.  It was fun regardless, especially since I hadn't fought a fish in so long.  And as WillyRags says, "It's still a VA kayak cobia."

Huge thanks to William Ragulsky for the kickass action photos

Later that same day, I had a mid 40" cobia thrash on an eel but not take it all the way.  I circled back around and it came straight to the stern of my kayak then streaked off to grab my eel.  Splashing on the surface, the cobia ripped the eel right off the hook before I could put it into free spool and let him get it all the way in its mouth.

Big thanks to Action Hat.  At least I got some cool footage.

I saw 4 others that day but they either got stung earlier or just weren't hungry.  It gave me hope for the third trip though having seen good numbers.  Again I paddled a lot and covered a lot of water while watching charter captains hook up over and over again in their towers.  I saw 5-6 fish, messed up casts on a couple and just simply got rejected on the others.  Third time wasn't the charm.

Johnson Outdoors (mother company of Ocean Kayak and Old Town) sent me a new Predator PDL pedal drive kayak and two days later I had an opportunity to get out of work.  So naturally, still having brown on my mind, I took the new plastic down to the beach.  It took a bit to get used to pedaling instead of paddling, and also took a bit to find the first pair of cobes circling a piling.  The live eel got inhaled and I was immediately grateful that I could pull the brute away from the piling while back pedaling and reversing out.  Then after a short sleigh ride going side to side and spinning, it became a vertical tug of war.

With it being a day after season closed, I had the opportunity to test out an in-water measuring technique I've been wanting to try on cobia.  After grabbing the leader, I tail looped it then lip gripped it.  I had a tape measure attached to the mouth end of the lip gripper that also had a rope coming off the handle.  I passed the rope around the YakAttack screwball / dogbone camera mount toward the bow to pull the head of the fish toward that direction.  I then stretched the measuring tape toward the tail that I was able to pull to the surface with the tail-loop.  If I couldn't put the hammer to it, I was glad it went an inch over the 50" minimum for a release citation.  

After getting the measurement, I took the tail loop off and pulled it up to get a better look at it.

After releasing it, I found another to give me that adrenaline rush.  Unfortunately, about 7-8 minutes into the fight, after bringing it yak side 3 or 4 times, he made another run, twisted, and spit the hook.  

But that was ok.  

Well maybe I screamed a bad word several times 

but since it wasn't any bigger than the one before,

at least I don't think anyway,

 I got over it pretty quick.  

Didn't see another the rest of the day,

still wishing I had some for the grill,

but I'm all smiles about a Virginia release citation cobia.

Review of the Predator PDL,

 specifically from a paddler's perspective

coming in the near future

unless I decide to try to upgrade my personal best cobia. 

Priorities.