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What's your best "the one that got away" story?

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What's your best "the one that got away" story?

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Old 03-09-2018, 09:10 AM
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Trolling along with planer boards and a rod goes off. Line starts screaming off the real and there is nothing I can do about it. The fish runs all the way over to the shore and beaches herself, flops back in the water and I am still hooked up! I start making up ground but I am in no way in control of this situation. I had probably nine other lines out and the lady heads back out as soon as she sees the boat. Circled the boat.. twice I think... and all my lines are a tangled mess. I finally get her up to the side of the boat and it's the biggest striper I have ever seen alive in my life. I look around and the landing net is in the back of the boat. Right as I go to make a move to get the net, the hook pops out but the old lady is just sitting there and I don't think she knows she's free. In a split second I had to decide whether I go for the net or dive in and see if I could lip her. I make a move for the net and she turns her head and slowly swims away. Best sex I never had....

Another time... Trolling along a shore right as the sun was settings. All of a sudden the shad jumps out of the water. A striper jumps out of the water and eats the bait in mid air. The fish goes down and so does the board! This story doesn't really count because this one ended up in the boat. But it's still a cool story..
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Old 03-10-2018, 07:00 AM
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Every fisherman worth his salt - as well as many who are not - has a story about the one that got away.. A common thread to all of these stories is that the fish is always very big. Small ones never escape.

Good stories are, for the most part, a result of great fishing conditions, and some of the wildest fishing that ever took place here in Montauk was during the mid sixties, before the United States enacted the Magnuson Act, which gave us control of the waters up to two hundred miles offshore. Previous to that, any country was free to fish the waters as close as twelve miles to shore.

Huge combination fishing/processing ships from the Eastern Bloc countries would spend the summer in the waters off our eastern coast, taking unbelievable amounts of fish. These ships, as long as two to three hundred feet, were capable of catching ten to fifteen tons of fish in a single haul. As devastating as this was to our groundfish stocks, it had its reward when it came to the sportfishing community.

While these boats were dragging their nets, the smaller fish would be squeezed through the mesh and leave behind a trail of dead and dying. And just like ET with the candy, there would be giant tuna following closely behind, picking up an easy meal. These fish are called giants for good reason. Ranging in size from six to eight hundred pounds, they are considered the prize fish of our area, and are undoubtably the strongest fish in the ocean.

When the factory ships would pull their nets, the sport boats would all jockey for position at the ships ramp, waiting for the net to be brought to the top. The small fish dribbling out of the net would float on the surface, due to gases in their bodies that expanded as a result of being brought up from the two hundred foot depths. Hooking a tuna was no big deal. You would simply scoop up a couple of these floaters, put a hook in one of them, throw it back in the water and wait. Generally, within a couple of minutes all hell would break loose.

There would be giant tuna all over the place, chowing down on the free meal. To see these fish feeding is a sight you could never forget. Giant fish eight feet long and eight feet around would crash through the water within yards of your boat. I've always thought that they probably looked similar to what the ball looked like to the head pin in a bowling alley. Moving just as fast, and impossible to stop.

During those days I owned a twenty five foot Bertram inboard/outboard and thought I was a pretty good fisherman. The boat wasn't really suited to fishing for giant tuna, but that was no reason not to try and catch one. We had no fighting chair in the boat, only what is called a fishing chair, more suitable to bluefish trolling. For fishing tackle, the heaviest rod and reel that we had was an eighty pound outfit, suitable for fish up to about three hundred pounds or so.

Our crew was made up of a high school friend, Bob Weaver who fished with me quite often, and two other friends who knew nothing about fishing. What we lacked in experience and equipment, we made up for in youthful enthusiasm. Our inexperience led us to believe that we had a chance to catch one of these monsters.

As I said, hooking the fish was no problem, and within fifteen minutes we were finished with the easy part. A giant tuna is extremely fast, and capable of stripping all the line off the reel we were using in less than a minute, so it became a matter of chasing the fish, and keeping up with it before that happened. This was panic time. The fish would take off in one direction, and we would take off after him at full speed. This would create a belly in the line, and we would have no idea where the fish was. We would then stop and try to reel in all the slack, until we were tight to the fish, and he would take off again in a different direction. Skill played very little part during this portion of the fight. It was all luck, and we were lucky enough that after about twenty minutes of this we were still attached to the animal.

Then the work started. Reel in line. Lose line. Follow the fish. Slow down and reel in some more only to lose it again.

Weaver fought the fish. I ran the boat. Our friends, Eddie and John, took turns pointing the chair in the right direction, getting something to drink and eventually napping. Fighting a fish is fun for about a half hour. Then it starts to get old. After an hour it becomes nothing more than hard work. Picture yourself sitting in a chair with a barbell in your left hand that you have to raise up to your chest every fifteen seconds or so for an hour. Then picture yourself standing by and watching someone else do it. Borrring!

After an hour and a half, the chair broke, and we had to jury rig Weaver with a rod belt around his waist and a life preserver underneath it to protect his vitals. That lessened the pressure we were able to put on the fish thereby extending the fight.

Six hours later we were still connected to the fish, and incredibly, Weaver was still fighting it, when we got the first indication that we had a chance to land the fish. All of a sudden we were gaining ten feet of line and only losing nine. Things were starting to go our way.

We started to organize ourselves for the final stage of the battle, the most critical part. Normally, a well equipped boat would have one man at the helm, one man fighting the fish, one man to grab the leader and a second to sink the gaff into the fish, all being experienced. We set things up a little differently. John would grab the leader.

At the moment that I saw John touch it, I would put the boat in neutral and run to the rear of the boat where Eddie would be holding the gaff at the ready for me. I would sink the hook and the fight would be over - theoretically.

Finally, after six and a half hours the moment of truth came. The leader came within reach, and John grabbed it. I left the helm and ran aft, to hear John yell " Holy #!*?, we'll never get this in". At that moment he let go, the fish swam under the boat, chaffing the line and our fishing day was over.

Nobody said anything. Weaver went below to sleep, and I headed the boat home. Later on we asked John, who had never seen a tuna that didn't come from a can, how big the fish was. He gave as accurate an estimate as you will ever hear from someone who just lost a big fish. It was somewhere between enormous and gigantic.

And so all we got from our adventure was another fish story about the one that got away. Except for Weaver, who also got a couple of days off from work.
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Old 03-10-2018, 07:35 AM
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I can't compete with Capt Gene's story above but mine was the biggest cobia I've ever seen. It was last summer and I was alone fishing in 3ft of water about 20ft off a sandbar on the outside if 10K islands, FL. The bar becomes exposed at low tide and surrounded by large 3ft deep grass flats.

I was casting lures long the sandbar's edge and getting nothing. I also had a 7' Heavy (12-25lb) inshore rod rod with a 5000 series reel and 20lb braid in a rod holder with a piece of cut mullet on a circle hook sitting on the bottom behind the boat.

I see what I think is a big lemon shark at first coming toward me right off the sand bar (10ft off the port side of the boat). Then I realize it's not a shark but the largest cobia I've ever seen. I watch it circle the cut mullet. Realizing what is about to happen, I put my rod down and grab the one in the rod holder. As soon as I grab it, the fish grabs the mullet and swims off. Once he does, he realizes he is hooked and takes off across the shallow flat like a bat out of hell. Spools all the line off the reel to the point I can see about 10 wraps of mono backing left on the spool. I palm the reel to slow it down; at two wraps left I swear he started to slow down but the knot or leader gives way and I reel back about 200 yards of weightless line.

I bought a custom Connelly 15-40lb rod and a Saragossa 6000 the next week but have yet to find another big cobia with it.

If I had someone with me to pull the stick-it pin and drive the boat to run him down then I may have caught him but there was no way I was getting that fish in the boat alone. I would have had to jump out and drag him up on the sandbar to expire first.

Last edited by On the Half Shell; 03-10-2018 at 07:41 AM.
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Old 03-11-2018, 04:54 PM
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Originally Posted by CaptGeneKelly View Post
Every fisherman worth his salt - as well as many who are not - has a story about the one that got away.. A common thread to all of these stories is that the fish is always very big. Small ones never escape.

Good stories are, for the most part, a result of great fishing conditions, and some of the wildest fishing that ever took place here in Montauk was during the mid sixties, before the United States enacted the Magnuson Act, which gave us control of the waters up to two hundred miles offshore. Previous to that, any country was free to fish the waters as close as twelve miles to shore.

Huge combination fishing/processing ships from the Eastern Bloc countries would spend the summer in the waters off our eastern coast, taking unbelievable amounts of fish. These ships, as long as two to three hundred feet, were capable of catching ten to fifteen tons of fish in a single haul. As devastating as this was to our groundfish stocks, it had its reward when it came to the sportfishing community.

While these boats were dragging their nets, the smaller fish would be squeezed through the mesh and leave behind a trail of dead and dying. And just like ET with the candy, there would be giant tuna following closely behind, picking up an easy meal. These fish are called giants for good reason. Ranging in size from six to eight hundred pounds, they are considered the prize fish of our area, and are undoubtably the strongest fish in the ocean.

When the factory ships would pull their nets, the sport boats would all jockey for position at the ships ramp, waiting for the net to be brought to the top. The small fish dribbling out of the net would float on the surface, due to gases in their bodies that expanded as a result of being brought up from the two hundred foot depths. Hooking a tuna was no big deal. You would simply scoop up a couple of these floaters, put a hook in one of them, throw it back in the water and wait. Generally, within a couple of minutes all hell would break loose.

There would be giant tuna all over the place, chowing down on the free meal. To see these fish feeding is a sight you could never forget. Giant fish eight feet long and eight feet around would crash through the water within yards of your boat. I've always thought that they probably looked similar to what the ball looked like to the head pin in a bowling alley. Moving just as fast, and impossible to stop.

During those days I owned a twenty five foot Bertram inboard/outboard and thought I was a pretty good fisherman. The boat wasn't really suited to fishing for giant tuna, but that was no reason not to try and catch one. We had no fighting chair in the boat, only what is called a fishing chair, more suitable to bluefish trolling. For fishing tackle, the heaviest rod and reel that we had was an eighty pound outfit, suitable for fish up to about three hundred pounds or so.

Our crew was made up of a high school friend, Bob Weaver who fished with me quite often, and two other friends who knew nothing about fishing. What we lacked in experience and equipment, we made up for in youthful enthusiasm. Our inexperience led us to believe that we had a chance to catch one of these monsters.

As I said, hooking the fish was no problem, and within fifteen minutes we were finished with the easy part. A giant tuna is extremely fast, and capable of stripping all the line off the reel we were using in less than a minute, so it became a matter of chasing the fish, and keeping up with it before that happened. This was panic time. The fish would take off in one direction, and we would take off after him at full speed. This would create a belly in the line, and we would have no idea where the fish was. We would then stop and try to reel in all the slack, until we were tight to the fish, and he would take off again in a different direction. Skill played very little part during this portion of the fight. It was all luck, and we were lucky enough that after about twenty minutes of this we were still attached to the animal.

Then the work started. Reel in line. Lose line. Follow the fish. Slow down and reel in some more only to lose it again.

Weaver fought the fish. I ran the boat. Our friends, Eddie and John, took turns pointing the chair in the right direction, getting something to drink and eventually napping. Fighting a fish is fun for about a half hour. Then it starts to get old. After an hour it becomes nothing more than hard work. Picture yourself sitting in a chair with a barbell in your left hand that you have to raise up to your chest every fifteen seconds or so for an hour. Then picture yourself standing by and watching someone else do it. Borrring!

After an hour and a half, the chair broke, and we had to jury rig Weaver with a rod belt around his waist and a life preserver underneath it to protect his vitals. That lessened the pressure we were able to put on the fish thereby extending the fight.

Six hours later we were still connected to the fish, and incredibly, Weaver was still fighting it, when we got the first indication that we had a chance to land the fish. All of a sudden we were gaining ten feet of line and only losing nine. Things were starting to go our way.

We started to organize ourselves for the final stage of the battle, the most critical part. Normally, a well equipped boat would have one man at the helm, one man fighting the fish, one man to grab the leader and a second to sink the gaff into the fish, all being experienced. We set things up a little differently. John would grab the leader.

At the moment that I saw John touch it, I would put the boat in neutral and run to the rear of the boat where Eddie would be holding the gaff at the ready for me. I would sink the hook and the fight would be over - theoretically.

Finally, after six and a half hours the moment of truth came. The leader came within reach, and John grabbed it. I left the helm and ran aft, to hear John yell " Holy #!*?, we'll never get this in". At that moment he let go, the fish swam under the boat, chaffing the line and our fishing day was over.

Nobody said anything. Weaver went below to sleep, and I headed the boat home. Later on we asked John, who had never seen a tuna that didn't come from a can, how big the fish was. He gave as accurate an estimate as you will ever hear from someone who just lost a big fish. It was somewhere between enormous and gigantic.

And so all we got from our adventure was another fish story about the one that got away. Except for Weaver, who also got a couple of days off from work.
lol damn I could see myself doing something like that. Great story. Sadly most of my friends still think the only type of Tuna is the stuff that comes from a can
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Old 03-11-2018, 05:02 PM
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I was probably only about 10 years old. My father and I were drifting for Fluke just inside Moriches Inlet when my dad hooked what had to this day be the biggest Fluke I've ever seen. Needless to say as it came to the surface and and he was pulling it to the boat in my excitement I reached too soon with the net and bumped it on top instead of getting the net under it. Needless to say it spit the hook. 40 years later right before my father passed he still reminded me of that day,
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Old 03-12-2018, 11:19 AM
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So many great stories.....thanks all of you for sharing. This is what makes it all worth while and even though it breaks your heart to loose that once in a lifetime catch it's what keeps us all coming back!

More stories please......!!! BUMP!!
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Old 03-12-2018, 03:12 PM
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Just last year I took a couple friends on an inshore sharking trip out of Indian river inlet DE. It was early July. I figured most of the threshers were probably gone, but wanted to get them on some browns, spinners etc. we only made it out around 8 miles to B Buoy as the winds were a lot worse than anticipated and it was pretty snotty. the first bite we had was strange. Took a little line, stopped, took some more stopped. Then started taking steady line, but not fast. So I let him eat for about 10 more seconds. Pushed the drag up and set the hook. When I set the hook I could feel him there so I passed the rod off to a friend and said it must be a small one.

Well this fish took us around the boat about 6 times and just steadily pulled line. No big blistering runs, but when it wanted to go there was no stopping it. And it stayed pretty deep. We fought this fish for around an hour and never gained a ton of line, but he never took big blistering runs. Just slow methodical runs of line off the reel. After an hour the line broke way up away from the leader (bad mono or something). Still have no idea what it was. Was thinkIng big thresher, but they usually go on crazy runs and come up to the surface. Then thought maybe great white? But I’ve never had a shark or any fish act like that. It almost acted like it never knew it was hooked. Very weird.
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Old 03-12-2018, 05:16 PM
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I have two.

Naples Pier, Naples, Fl. I caught a small something or other and decided to put a hook in his back and let him swim around some. Not too long later line starts slowly peeling off my Avet LX spooled with probably 500 yards of 60# braid. I move the lever to Full and it had no effect. 20 pounds of drag all the way down to an empty spool after an agonizing probably five minutes and the line finally snaps at the spool. No clue what it was, but I am thinking a submarine. Or maybe a Bull Shark or stingray. I don't think it ever realized it was hooked.

Story 2 was first time fishing for Bluefin Tuna in Cape Cod Bay. Same Avet LX actually. I hook a nice 60-70 BFT and it goes nuts. My friend hooks one as well and we are fighting from opposite ends of the boat. My fight only takes five minutes and I have the fish alongside the boat. Friend number two is racing between me and friend one and comes to me with the gaff. It is the kind with the bicycle type grip on a 3' aluminum handle. He sinks the gaff into the very green tuna and it goes nuts again. My leader breaks and we see the fish swim away. Huh? We all look at my friend's hand and he is holding just the bicycle grip.
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Old 03-12-2018, 08:26 PM
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I was probably 14 years old and was out fishing with my dad. We were fishing the Mississippi Rodeo at the time and went out early sat am. We fished all day with a couple of small kings to show for it when we decided to take a break and wait for my cousins and uncle who were in another boat and were going to meet us at a rig offshore and make the run in together. It was later in the afternoon and we were worn out so dad threw out a dead pogy on a drift line and I decided it would be cool to throw out a whole dead bonito that weighed about 5 pounds and see if I could catch a shark.

Well the bonito didn't last long. About 5 minutes after being down on the bottom, down the rod went. We both assumed it was a huge shark. But it really didn't fight, just an up and down tug of way for about 20 minutes. I started making some line and dad started thinking maybe I was going to get this in. Back to the bottom it went. The cousins show up in their boat about 45 minutes into the fight and are wondering what I am fighting. "no idea, but it ate a 5 pound bonito". Then line really started coming in. The leader came up and then about a 500# jewfish, right next to the side of the boat. It was giant. Still the biggest one Ive ever seen

We both looked at each other in awe. "get the camera". Dad went for the camera and the giant made one flip of its tail and out came the whole bonito along with the hook without even a scratch on it. The cousins were on the wrong side of the boat and didnt see a thing, other than me lift a lifeless 5# bonito into the boat. Even with my dad backing up the story they still talk about my 45 minute fight with a 5# fish.

And I know these days thats not that big a deal, but back in the day, they were rare.

Last edited by mwgoldman; 03-12-2018 at 08:31 PM.
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Old 03-12-2018, 08:55 PM
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5’10”, blonde hair blue eyes and the most perfect set of tits you’ve ever seen. Skinny with curves and abs. Just perfect.
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Old 03-13-2018, 05:35 AM
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Originally Posted by Big Iron View Post
5’10”, blonde hair blue eyes and the most perfect set of tits you’ve ever seen. Skinny with curves and abs. Just perfect.
Lost a few like that myself
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Old 03-13-2018, 06:01 AM
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The following is from my " Random Thoughts... " thread and remains my favorite "got away" story:

"Of course anything can fail, including those reels bathed in gold, if it's mishandled.

I learned this the hard way when I had a brand new Int. 50W spooled in a little shop in Atlanta with 60-pound Ande Pink (my go-to line on 50s). For some reason, they were only able to get 500 yards of line on the reel. Normally, a 50W holds 600 yards of 60#. Oh well, 500 yards should be enough (or so I thought).

Two days later I'm on top of the Spur, 59 miles south of Destin, and trolling a thin, but well made up weed line. On my long rigger I've got an 8" Mold Craft Hooker on a search and destroy mission for dolphin. The little lure is positioned perfectly on the face of wave number. five, and doing its sexiest dance to try and entice a mahi mahi home to dinner. Of course, all this was tethered to the new 50W with the new line with a drag scale-set at 18 pounds.

Suddenly my fishing partner says, in a not too excited manner, "Would you look at that."

"What?" I said, looking back from the helm, where I was expertly piloting the little Mako Center Console.

"Just wait a second, and keep your eyes on that long rigger bait," My partner said. "There!"

With the "there" exclamation, a dolphin, all of about 3/4 -of-- pound, came out of the water behind the little Mold Craft, and landed right on top of the chugging lure. I waited for the outrigger clip to trip, but nothing happend. The little Mold Craft just kept on popping on its merry way.

"That's about the fifth time he's done that," said may partner. "Look, there he is again!"

And sure 'nuff, he had jumped two feet into the air and landed right on the lure, and still nothing happened. This went on for six or seven more times. We were having a gay old time watching the little dolphin trying to take on a meal nearly as big as he was.

Then someone dropped a pickup truck out of the sky that landed on the little mold craft! WHAM came the line down from the rigger clip. The Penn Tuna Stick stand-up rod went from straight up, to straight back as the pickup truck sped off in the opposite direction.

Then came the loud rifle shot, KA-POW!!!, as the loosely wound on line bit down into itself and seized the brand new reel. (We figured it all out when we tried to find the end of the line in the reel. So bound was it that it took an hour of digging with an ice pick to free the end from cinches that had been created). Then, I'll never forget what may partner said...

"Damn! That little dolphin was a lot stronger than he looked!"

Sometimes all you can do is laugh! (and vow to never fish with loosely packed line again! "
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Old 03-13-2018, 08:53 AM
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August 2015....... 3 Amigos we were out trolling offshore the larger part of the day had a buddies two sons who are younger and stepson who is in his mid 20s aboard...Nothing exciting except bailing some dolphin in the Baltimore; as it was getting late in the day we decided to head in towards the hotdog and found a dragger which we set up behind and were trolling and boated 2 gaffer mahi....put the spread back out and got behind the scallop rig again had an insane run off as someone forgot to check to see if the clicker was on we noticed the 30-50 class rod damn near bent in half in an outrodder with line smoking off of it...So the boat owner puts his older step son who the rod who is an inexperienced angler and one of the experienced guys drug this poor guy all over the boat following this fish....I mean all over 360 degrees around the boat as the fish ran off the port then ahead of the boat then back around starboard side to the back... 10 mins go by and we see color and realize it is a thick wahoo....First pass on starboard side fish was too deep to gaff and still very green....Fish then rises to the surface behind the boat out of gaff range and starts thrashing around....Fish then makes a dart under the boat which we keep the line free just for him to thrash around on the port side and chew through the mono on the pin rig.....

1 year later Sept 2016 heading in from the Wilmington...Redemption was served.... 80lb+ wahoo which we were prepared for and had him in the boat within 10 minutes... I can finally sleep again!
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Old 03-13-2018, 11:02 AM
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Spent 3 hours on an 800 lb (estimated) blue marlin in the Spencer canyon back in 09. Fish crushed a ballyhoo/illander on the flat line. The thing was as wide as the back of my 01 Albemarle 305. I couldn't even say anything. She just piled on. First hour of fight was literally spent in reverse. Then she went down. We had a 50w in full with thumbs on the spool and we couldn't move her. Finally, we got her up 20-30' under the boat and she kept circling back under. I told the crew let's take a shot and try to get the leader to release. Got her up close enough to see her eye was the size of a saucer. She dove back under and caught the mainline on the corner of the transom. Popped her off.
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Old 03-13-2018, 09:57 PM
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Last year at Horn Island out of Mississippi. Fishing with live croakers drifting the grass beds for speckled trout. Had a good hit , set the hook and the fish took off. Fought it around the boat for several minutes before it came up and did the head shake trout are notorious for. It was then that i realized this was the big wall hanger that i have been hunting for. Get it next to the boat and as i ease the net towards it, it just opens its mouth and lets the croaker go. It was never hooked. Just swimming around holding it in its mouth. That trout would have been 10+ pounds and in the 30” range.
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Old 03-15-2018, 05:02 AM
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Fishing Naples Fl hooked up on a big ole snook pulled him out of the mangroves 4 times brought it right up next to the boat reached down to grab him and pop line broke. I had the damn thing in my hands and everything such a sad day for me.
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Old 03-15-2018, 07:14 AM
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A Hammerhead in the 10 foot range shows up. I toss him a whole fish on a hook. He grabs it and starts swimming away. I am standing on the bow of my 16 foot boat and the bow was one of those flat slick ones. I am holding the rod and sliding forward with my bare feet not giving me any traction on the bow and the shark is pulling me overboard. I am screaming HELP!! Thankfully the Hammerhead immediately got off and I didn't go into the water with my Penn Reel and Boat Rod!
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Old 03-15-2018, 09:04 AM
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Originally Posted by Lobstercatcher229 View Post
A Hammerhead in the 10 foot range shows up. I toss him a whole fish on a hook. He grabs it and starts swimming away. I am standing on the bow of my 16 foot boat and the bow was one of those flat slick ones. I am holding the rod and sliding forward with my bare feet not giving me any traction on the bow and the shark is pulling me overboard. I am screaming HELP!! Thankfully the Hammerhead immediately got off and I didn't go into the water with my Penn Reel and Boat Rod!
Changing the OP to "the one you got away from!"

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Old 03-25-2018, 06:42 PM
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14 years old fishing a rapala plug in the inlet from the sea wall behind a busy restaurant with outdoor waterfront dining. Hooked the big one and broke the tip off my spinning rod. I fought that 20lb+/- snook for almost half an hour due to the ripping tide. There were say 30 restaurant patrons gathered around getting drunk on happy hour specials. A few of the observers started a bidding war presuming that I would sell the fresh caught fish to be prepared by the Chef. I was able to get the fish within reach a couple times until it turned back with the current. One of the waiters grabbed the plug and tried to lift the snook. The treble popped out and all watched fresh fried fingers floating away. Then, out of nowhere, a knockdown drag out brawl broke out between three guys. Two of which were then trounced by a huge older man in his 50’s or 60’s. And then, another parking lot scrap between two HOT twenty something chicks (one being a waitress). Ultimately, I was no longer allowed to fish from the property.
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Old 03-25-2018, 07:26 PM
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Summer of 1963. My 12 year old friend Mike and I decided to find out what type of fish lived in the deep bottom of Puget sound. We each caught a bait (a good sized flounder) and started taking turns rowing my 8' dingy out towards the middle. The houses got small and we rowed some more. Finally we stopped and lowered our flounders to bottom. Sharks ate his on the way down but I got mine to bottom where I got a serious bite. I hauled it up with everything I had and when Mike and I saw this fish it was nothing like we had ever seen or heard of before and we fished most days weather permitting. This fish had the flounder in its huge jaws all in one piece with its very large teeth firmly embedded in/ puncturing the forlorn flounder. I yelled at Mike to grab it with the only thing we had which was small set of pliers. He wasn't going for it and climbed up into the bow seat and stayed there. This was by far the biggest fish I had ever hooked. Actually, it turned out that the fish was never hooked. As I heaved on it in a attempt to get it close enough to grab or something, it simply let go of the flounder and I fell backwards, hit the gunnel and shipped some water before returning to the side the fish was on to see it swim back down to the dark depths. Many years latter I identified it as a wolfish. I can still remember those teeth. And I don't blame Mike for letting that one get away..... anymore.
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