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    Categories: Sports

Catch And Release Fly Fishing Works With Really Big Fish Too.

We were a week out of Hawaii, double handed sailing back to Oregon.  Celinda isn’t a fisher person, but I’d had a line out ever since Kauai had disappeared over the horizon.

My first love, as far as fishing is concerned, is fly fishing and I’d been trolling a large home made fly on the surface.  The first three days out we’d caught so many small tuna, the kind they call Kawa Kawa (kawva-kawva) in Hawaii, that I had to quit fishing.  We couldn’t eat them all, you can’t catch and release tuna, they lose most of their blood as soon as you take them out of the water and I’d also lost a lot of flies in the process.  More flies were a problem, even though I had my fly tying gear on board, because I didn’t have enough of me to go around.

Day four, five and six:  we were in heavy weather and Celinda hadn’t sailed more than inter-island.  When you’re double handing, you spend a lot of time on watch and when one of the crew doesn’t have a lot of experience, the days and nights can get very long. 

On day seven a high pressure ridge moved over us and, even though the wind was still blowing fifteen plus, the sea was held down by the high pressure.  High pressure usually means the big fish, like tuna, mahi mahi, and ono,( a.k.a. wahoo), stay down deep and don’t feed on the surface.  Probably, because the bait fish they feed on also stay deep.

We were running downwind on a spinnaker and blooper and pushing hull speed or above.  I’d put a really large home made fly on, in part to discourage any small tuna from taking it, partly to see if big fish could be caught on surface flies, but mostly because I had no smaller flies left.  I’d had the fly out since shortly after dawn, and at lunch time I’d thought about stowing the fishing gear or tying and trying a smaller fly.

The wind had been gusting out of the southeast and we were running too much sail for the tired condition we were in.  I kept putting off going up and changing to smaller sails, but by early afternoon I couldn’t procrastinate any longer. 

Our sailboat ran flatter under a spinnaker if the mainsail was reefed down and that had been done when the spinnaker and blooper were set.  I went up on the foredeck, took the blooper and spinnaker down,  set a 120% headsail and poled it out.  The boat had slowed when the downwind sails had been doused, but was back up to hull speed before I got to the cockpit.  Just as I was stepping down into the cockpit to take the helm, the reel started singing like a mad bee.  Celinda kept the helm and I grabbed the fishing rod out of the holder.  For the next twenty-five or so minutes, it was give and take and easy does it, for fear of breaking the eight pound test line.  I knew what was on the other end of the line, the big bull mahi had come out of the water more than once.

When the fish made a run toward the boat, I had a hard time dropping line at my feet fast enough.  When he ran the other way, I could feel the line burning my thumb and fingers.  The line was too light, and the fish too big, to trust the drag on the reel.  The fish was next to the boat three or four times before I could get him close enough to the boarding ladder and grab him by the gill plate.  The fish was huge and rather than take a chance of going in the ocean with him, I’d had Celinda clip my safety harness onto the boat.  I managed to get him in the cockpit for a photo and then big mahi and I went back down the boarding ladder so he could cruise the ocean again.

As long as Mahi Mahi are showing their colors, and haven’t turned all silver, they’re still alive.  The big mahi was lying in my cradled arms, mouth open with colors flashing down his sides like a neon sign.  Water was being forced through his gills by the speed of the boat.  He didn’t move for a long time and I was afraid he might die.  Then, his right eye rolled up and focused on me.  He was lying there and then he was gone, so quickly it was almost as if he’d never been there.  I was glad we’d gotten a picture, otherwise it would have been just another fish story about the big one that got away. 

             

 

Larry Miller: I was born in Los Angeles in 1940. My father was a fighter pilot instructor during WWll and we moved from coast to coast, maybe that’s where I got the nomad in my blood. After graduating from high school in 1958 I joined the Marines. That lifestyle wasn’t for me and upon my discharge I went on with my life, and have never looked back. I worked briefly for a Caterpillar dealer in Riverside, CA before moving back to N. California where I was a welder and truck driver for a chemical company. Truck driving wasn’t my calling anymore than being in the Marines, and I went back to work for another Caterpillar dealer steam cleaning dirty tractor parts and welding. They sent me to schools, lots and lots of schools. I spent as much time going to trade schools as I did at work. I went from cleaning parts to apprentice field mechanic, to mechanic to the parts department to satellite store manager in less than two years. They wanted me to move to Sacramento and be a salesman: I moved to Oregon to learn to commune with nature. I went to work for another heavy equipment dealer and was later contacted by the World’s largest Lorraine Crane dealer and offered the position of purchasing agent and general parts manager. In 1967 I was offered a line of automotive parts and supplies and went into business for myself. My business revolved around eleven race cars that we maintained for others, driving race cars professionally and maintaining high end sports cars. I was a championship and regional champion driver. My business was the largest import parts and service, non dealer, in the state until I sold it in 1979. We went sailing in 79, first to Mexico and then Hawaii. I was an award winning Trans-Pacific sailor and sailor of the year, Hawaii, Island of Kauai. An opportunity presented itself in Hawaii during 1981 and I was back in business, importing Japanese auto body and hard parts. I also felt the pull to write and began freelancing for magazines and newspapers in 1982. My main focus in my articles is, and always has been, health, wellness and fitness. Most of us have heard the saying, “Time is all we have.” I disagree. Our health is all we have, because without our health, we have no time. I was a US Olympic team hopeful in racewalking and held all the records for the state of Hawaii. As a sponsored athlete in my forties, I finished first in nine marathons in a row in my division, qualified for the Ironman® and was the state USCF cycling champion five times in Hawaii and Oregon. Celinda and I were married in 1988 after a three year engagement. We sold our businesses and organic farm and sailed back to Oregon. After our sailboat boat was sold, we moved to Joseph, Oregon, two miles from the trailhead into the Eagle Cap Wilderness. We were caregivers for my mother the last ten years she was alive. We moved to New Mexico in 1995 because it was too cold for my mom in Oregon during the winters. Celinda designed, and I engineered and built our strawbale house. I began writing the weekly health column for a local newspaper in 1996, and still do. In 2000, I took the summer off to do a four month, 4000 mile, hike, bike and kayak odyssey. I’d been writing health, fitness and sports articles since 1982 and the journey produced a full-length, nonfiction, first person adventure book, Yol Bolsun, May There Be A Road, which can be bought from Amazon.com and others over the Internet. The summer of 2001 was spent hiking. kayaking, fishing and exploring the southwest. In 2002 Celinda and I spent the summer in Canada learning the hospitality business at a resort in preparation for doing promotion for the resort in the US. Most of 2003 was spent reestablishing the trees and landscape that had died during the stay in Canada. We had a house sitter and the house sitter had an ex-husband, and that’s a long story. In July of 2004 I did a solo kayak trip on the Snake River, taking pictures, writing articles and pencil sketching the journey. I hope to do another kayak adventure on the Snake River during the summer of 2008, on the section I missed in 2000 and 2004. In 2005, I returned to Canada to the resort where we’d spent 2002. I was supposed to be there for the month of June. I’d contacted people I’d met in 2002 and they came back to Canada to fish, hike and spend time at the resort, Echo Valley Ranch and Spa, while I was there. My one month became five and then it was off to Spain to do the El Camino de Santiago as a travel companion with one of the guests who’d returned to Canada in June. During the summer of 2006 a friend from Ireland, who I’d met in Spain the year before, came to visit in NM and we fished, hiked and explored the White Mountains of AZ. He’d never slept out in the wild in a tent before, and it was quite an experience, for both of us. My newspaper articles were put on the Internet beginning in 2002. I was asked to give public speaking engagements, photo and video presentations, on various subjects for the library in Deming, NM and continue to do so. In 2006 I videoed and produced a DVD for the Smithsonian Institute’s travel exhibit “Between Fences.” NMFILMS had a conference by invitation only, which I attended. While attending the conference, I realized that film making wasn’t what I wanted to do but I still wanted to use my sixteen years of experience and enjoyment of videoing and photography. During the winter of 2005, I discovered that no one on record had ever run from the Arizona border to the Texas border, a distance of 165 miles. During the spring and summer of 2006 I trained for the run and the run was completed in October, 2006. In late 2005, I began building and maintaining websites incorporating all the things I enjoyed about video, photography, travel and the out of doors. 2007 has been a summer of upgrading the home and property which resulted in a downgrading of my enthusiasm for being located in one place. If we don’t like what’s happening in our life, we need to change what we’re doing. Celinda and I are ready to pull up roots and move on. I guess I’ve come full circle. I’m ready to revert back to my childhood, and a nomadic lifestyle.
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