I'm fried. Fighting butt buried deep in my belly, my left hand bends backwards on the foregrip of a 12-weight while my right hand palms the bottom of a Tibor, trying desperately to slow the spinning. The 80-pound blue shark at the end of my line is heading deep for another run (again), and I saw my backing knot disappear into the depths a long time ago.

I'm fried. Fighting butt buried deep in my belly, my left hand bends backwards on the foregrip of a 12-weight while my right hand palms the bottom of a Tibor, trying desperately to slow the spinning. The 80-pound blue shark at the end of my line is heading deep for another run (again), and I saw my backing knot disappear into the depths a long time ago.

This has been going on for nearly 20 minutes. And while I'm trying to enjoy the ride, my left bicep feels like someone is running razor blades across it and my buddy keeps kicking my Gatorade just out of reach, the bastard.

As I switch hands yet again, the right- or left-hand retrieve question plays out in my head for the hundredth time: ("I can reel faster with my right, but I really want to reef on the rod with that hand")

Such are the important questions of the day when flyfishing for sharks. This was yesterday, Sunday, the first of July, and I was fishing with Dave Trimble, who makes up 50 percent of the Conway Bowman and Dave Trimble show that has been tearing up the San Diego sharking scene for the past five years. Guide Jeff Stock, one of the managers of the San Diego Fly Shop, has recently joined them.

Funny thing is, I lived just north of here, in San Clemente, for the past three years before moving back to Colorado in April, and I never fished with them then. I'm not sure why, I guess I just sort of figured that the fishing couldn't possibly measure up to the hype; that we'd be trolling along in deep water and maybe get one shark a day; that it would feel too fake or contrived or party-boaty what with the chumming and teasing and all.

But then the first shark appeared and I learned that if he takes it while swimming toward me I'll likely hook him in the teeth and lose him. I learned that teasing is itself an art form, every bit as hard as casting. I learned that blue sharks will dive straight down and twist on you while makos will blast away, fly 20 feet out of the water, and occasionally return to attack the boat or the chum bucket. But mostly I learned that the first thing you need to do is find them, and that's a lot harder than it looks.

Together, my friend Matt and I got over a dozen sharks on Sunday, though only one was a high-flying Mako. My biggest was the 80-pounder that had me sweating and swearing through a 100-degree day. But overall, my flyfishing-for-sharks experience was at least five times better than expected—both harder and easier than I thought—and filled with the enough frustration and celebration to make it one of my greatest days of flyfishing ever.

Add this page to your favorite Social Bookmarking websites

TrackBack URI for this entry

Comments (2)

skip knowles said…

April 29, 2010

sandy eggo is no fokking joke-- all you ever hear about are the off shore glam fisheries but the inshore kelp-line stuff is mind blowing at times...fished off surfboards and been towed by white sea bass and caught tons of regular sea bass...great roving schools of mackeral move right in and on good years the yellowtail to 50 pounds attack on the kelp line right inshore...and you never hear about it.

UGG Boots on sale said…

July 28, 2010

This is Coach Bags and
Vibram Five Fingers