Well… not every trip can be a hero’s tale.
We headed offshore on the 29th full of hope, dreams, and coolers that were entirely too empty. But something was off and the fish gods must’ve been laughing, because we were serving up a masterclass in how not to catch fish.
Started with a heartbreaking sailfish hookup - beautiful fish, great run, and then… pop… line breaks and so do our spirits. We followed that up by losing 4 or 5 mahi, all giving us the classic short strike, spit-the-hook-and-peace-out routine. We were out there throwing a floating buffet, and they were just there for the free samples.
By the time we finally landed 3 mahi and 1 bluefin tuna, we were clinging to those fish like they were gold bars.
Thinking we could salvage some dignity (and maybe dinner), we shifted to bottom fishing at a usually reliable spot - keyword: usually. We hooked one fish, got it to the boat, and then the tax man showed up like it was April 15th. Every fish after that? Shark food. Didn’t matter how fast we cranked, they had Amazon Prime delivery straight to their mouths.
After losing a few fish, we called it. Not our finest offshore adventure, but the seas were calm, the sun was shining, and hey… sometimes just being out there is enough (or so we keep telling ourselves).
