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For the fishermen amoungst us

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  • For the fishermen amoungst us

    I'll try to find a better picture later


    A Nelson businessman has reeled in a massive 268kg tuna on the West Coast and he is waiting to hear if it is a world record.

    For Michael Hayes and his fishing mates, landing the big one was hardly a relaxing day out.

    "It was hours of hard yakka," Hayes says, "I knew it was a good fish, but didn't realise until we tried to get it on the boat and five of us couldn't even hardly move it."

    It took two hours to reel in the massive tuna but Hayes says he got off lightly.

    "Another guy onboard landed another one which took him six hours."

    Of the four pulled up, Hayes tuna weighed in as the biggest catch at over a quarter of a tonne or just under 600 pounds.

    Landed entirely with rod and reel, he says it may very well be a world record breaker.

    "It's a blue fin tuna, but it has to be dna tested to find out exactly what sort it is. It's either a northern blue fin or a pacific, but we believe it is a pacific and if that is the case, it'll be a world record," Hayes says.

    The fish's dna is now being tested to figure out exactly which species it is, but in the meantime, Hayes is sending it to a taxidermist to have the memory of this whopper last forever.

    "It's getting freighted up to Tauranga and there's going to be a mould and cast made out of it which is going to my game fishing club," he says.

    And if you are dying to know the secret to landing the big one, Hayes says it is just being at the right place at the right time.

    It will be three weeks before he finds out if he holds the record title.

    In the realm of spirit, seek clarity; in the material world, seek utility.

    Leibniz

  • #2
    "A REEL WHOPPER"
    06/08/2003
    By RAY SASSER
    Dallas Morning News

    Ron Roland of Plano accomplished the unthinkable on May 23. He landed the biggest fish ever documented caught on a rod and reel in the Gulf of Mexico. The fish was a 1,152-pound bluefin tuna, an unusual species for the Gulf and a fish known as a ferocious heavyweight fighter.

    Roland is an experienced saltwater angler who was fishing aboard a 50-foot Hatteras owned by Roland's friends, Mike and Paul Ippolito of New Orleans. Also aboard was Patrick Fitzmorris of New Orleans. They were fishing a weedline about 35 miles offshore.

    "Mike was on the flying bridge, and he spotted some surface activity in the distance," Roland said. "About that time, another fisherman came on the marine radio and said that he'd spotted some bluefin tuna jumping."

    The fishing buddies were ready for a big fish. They'd been trolling for marlin. They reeled in their lines and headed for the distant action. Roland was sitting in the air-conditioned salon when his friends put lures back in the water.

    Teamwork is required to catch a big fish, and the anglers had fished together often and had a plan of action. Luckily for Roland, it was his turn on the rod.

    "As soon as we put the lures out, we got a strike – bam – just like that," Roland said. "I grabbed the rod and climbed into the fighting chair and got hooked up. We had five other lines out, and Patrick and Paul were reeling them in when we suddenly realized that strategy would not work. Within a few seconds of the strike, the fish had spooled 700 to 800 yards of line."

    The huge reel held about 1,000 yards of 100-pound test line. The boat had to start immediately backing up or the fish would take all the line. Roland's fishing partners cut two lines rather than taking the time to reel them in.

    Most big bluefins are caught along the eastern seaboard in relatively shallow water 200 to 300 feet deep. Off the mouth of the Mississippi, the continental shelf falls off quickly. Roland's fish bit in water that was 3,000 feet deep, and there was every danger that the fish would head straight for the bottom.

    Aided by slick, calm seas, the crew spent the next hour steadily backing up on the powerful tuna.

    "The fish was hooked up for an hour before we felt like we were even in the fight," Roland said. "It was that long before we had some semblance of control. By control, I mean we had regained enough line that one run probably wouldn't empty the reel."

    The big-game rigging featured 18 feet of double line and a 15-foot leader. After 90 minutes on the rod, Roland had regained all the lost line and his crew was preparing to land the fish.

    Roland had not seen the fish and was beginning to wonder if it was as big as his friends thought. From his perch on the flying bridge, Mike Ippolito was yelling to be careful with the green (undefeated) tuna. Roland was strapped into the chair, but one of the crew would have to grab the line, and Ippolito was concerned he could be jerked overboard.

    He was also worried about putting the big green fish in the boat where it could destroy gear and people alike. He need not have worried. The tuna was just coming up for a look. It apparently didn't like what it saw. The fish turned and made a steady run that lasted five to eight minutes and peeled off 500 yards of line.

    Three hours into the fight, the fish made a third impressive run. Roland's hands were blistered and his arms and legs alternately cramped. He focused on the rhythm of pumping the massive big-game rod and reeling as much line as possible as the rod tip was lowered.

    About 8 p.m., the tuna made a final run – straight down. If the giant fish had started its fight by sounding, it would have won within minutes. Four hours of fighting against the drag had taken its toll.

    Roland wasn't in such great shape, himself. The seemingly endless sea was pitch dark, and Roland considered giving up. Mike Ippolito came down from the bridge, relieved by his brother. Though all the anglers were seasoned, Mike had the most experience with big fish. Sensing a once-in-a-lifetime catch, he and his New Orleans mates yelled everything from insults and death threats to encouragement to keep their tired comrade in the game.

    "It was getting ugly," Roland said. "I was caught between the 50-foot boat and the 1,000-pound fish. I was in pain, but I decided to deal with it. The rod was completely doubled over and the line was stretched so tight that it made a sound like a banjo as it creeped off the reel."

    Ippolito decided it was time to go for broke. He instructed Roland to lock down the drag. Either the fish would break off or it would give up. For the next 45 minutes, Paul Ippolito would gun the boat's powerful engines forward for 10 seconds, then back up as fast as possible. Each maneuver allowed Roland to gain three or four cranks of line.

    Roland could feel that the fish was about done. It shook its head occasionally, but that's about all the fight it had left. Roland was able to gain line at a reasonable rate. When he finally reeled the huge fish to the surface, his crew got a flying gaff in its head and a rope on the tail.

    That's when they discovered a new problem. There was no way to get the fish aboard. Four men could not slide it through the transom door on the big Hatteras. In an effort to lift the tuna, they almost burned up the anchor winch. They finally gave up hopes of boating the fish and headed for Port Eades, near the mouth of the Mississippi, towing the tuna like a dingy behind the Hatteras. The fight took 5 hours and 15 minutes. Chugging along at five knots, the boat ride to port required six hours.

    At 1,152 pounds, Roland's fish unseats the Texas record tiger shark (1,129 pounds) as the biggest fish reported caught on rod and reel from the Gulf of Mexico. It easily beats the old Louisiana record bluefin tuna, a 1981 catch that weighed 891 pounds. Roland's fish measured 10 feet, 10.5 inches long by 8 feet, 2 inches in girth.

    The International Game Fish Association all-tackle world record for bluefins weighed 1,496 pounds and was caught off Nova Scotia in 1979. IGFA has no line class record category for 100-pound test line. The world record for 130-pound test line weighed 1,170 pounds. The 80-pound test line record is 974 pounds, six ounces.

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    • #3
      Thats a lot of sea chicken!!!

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