Getting your ass kicked hurts...be a man and get back up

What can I say.....when you set out to battle huge fish on light tackle there is an inherent risk of failure....

........Amtrak is ridiculous. Not one train has left for RI on time in my entire experience with the company..........mind you after my return trip they are still ten fold better then a bus (and 4 times the price)..... Anyway finally in Newport at Mr. Evans new joint it was a flurry of prep work and then a few short hours sleep. Groggy but excited we woke up before the alarm ever went off. Taylor Brown, amped from the year before was waiting home cooked food in one hand and oatmeal stout in the other.....behind him, the majestic McKee Craft with its glimmering new tuna tower.....only issue was this was a 20' boat and looked like it was gonna flip soon as she hit the water...too late for second guesses we were off.

The hour ride to Ssandwich on the canal was uneventful...we arrived before anyone else, a great sign that we wouldn't be harassed by googans all day, and had the boat ready to go before 6. And so we went....this was my first time north of the canal and i must say it is quite a beautiful place to watch the sunrise. With blue hazy skies over Boston , sunrise reflecting off the northern cape sand bluffs, and shimmering Orange water ahead we bore full steam north east to what was becoming a promising day.

We had considered the possibility of running into fish prior to our destination....for better or worse we saw nothing....that is till we could see the color of Provincetown's phallic tower. Within moments we the first on many solo breaking fish we would see that day. At this point, excitable we chased every rise and succeeded no more then killing a quarter tank of gas.

Wise or desperate from frustration we moved north towards the furthest tip of the infamous sand bar that is Cape Cod. Here, amidst rips that plunge from 80 to 200 feet deep within a mile of shore saw our first sign of stable life, life that wouldn't flee before we were even approaching. Despite the improved signs we were still scratching our heads in dismay. And so began the blind casting. Sitting like ducks in a lake, nothing but the occasional rip line to disturb the boat we nonchalantly skipped our sea pups across the surface. of course just as we all neared a point of total ambiguous casting perhaps the largest fish of that feigned a trout sip but 15 feet from the boat of my half hearted retrieve. This may sound like a peaceful event, and I'm sure in the fishes mind it was. however, as a human, and not an exceedingly large one, when something twice your size...in the vicinity of 300lbs per say, rises to the surface within a hop and skip from your boat....well....its kinds of like expecting someone locked in a cage with a gorilla to find any sort of movement or lack there of relaxing. But i digress....pictures, if i had one would not due this scene justice. In disbelief we watched as her golden silver side and brilliant blue back tipped with yellow sabers rose gracefully behind the lure only to go Baja roosterfish and turn away nearly blinding me with a flash signaling her departure. Again....we are aimlessly drifting at this point.

moments later one committed mass murder on Taylor's spook.

Any time you hook a fish like this the first moments go by so fast its hard to say what really happened. Initially when Taylor hooked up it acted odd, as if it was already being defeated. Then, if only for a moment the rod went slack....we had lost her.....or so we thought. Before Taylor could even mumble "FU!!!!" his rod arched right back over and began dumping line at a scary rate. Whatever had been going on before we now tied up with a very large fish.

to be continued...