530 am we (Mandy, my South African, my dad and myself) all loaded up in the car and headed to Hout Bay to meet up with Captain Steve Potter and his son/ships mate Joey of Cape Town Fishing Charters. I had called him twice earlier in the week, chatting about the weather conditions and the tuna. Being a true professional charter captain, we discussed how it was very early in the season, too early to know if we'd actually hook into big yellowfin, and we postulated on the best winds to make the ride to the canyon manageable. For those who don't know these fish, they love to hang out on the areas, ie. a massive drop off like the side of a canyon, where warm and cold currents mix, creating a vast up-welling. It's about two hours journey out into the open ocean off Africa's southern point.
Two days before we went, he called to say the commercial fishermen had spotted the tuna. The wind would die down from a howling mini hurricane to a gentle cape breeze. The swells would shrink significantly, the whitecaps would be gone. Hoorah, I said, let's go fish.
On the way out to the fishing grounds, we spotted one humpback whale and only about six billion seals. They seemed quite adorable, jumping around foraging for food or lazing in the sun, one fin stuck up in the air (pretending to be sharks). But they aren't good to have around while you fish, and even worse to have around afterward, we learned. But more on that later.
Mixing in with giant commercial trawlers and long-liners, we set up to look for the yellowfin. After a significant strike and markers on the fish finders, we started chumming the waters. We knew the fish were there, but catching a massive yellowfin tuna isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world. Charter captains and their mates make it look like a simple process, chucking in lines loaded with squid lures or sardine, puttering along slowly with the rigs, waving away the somewhat aggressive and incessant bird life. It's just fishing, right? How hard can it be? No. Wrong. Absolutely not. I won't give away all their amazing tricks, tips and secrets (as they've been hard earned by years and years of experience on the water, and I'm sorry readers, but you must put the work in for that yourself) but finding, baiting and catching a tuna the size of an adult male requires an impressive skill set, and luckily Joey and Steve were there to augment our vast lack of knowledge on the subject with their expertise.
To make a long story short, after a few hours of scanning the surf, chasing away Storm Petrels and Albatross, rechecking lines, reloading stolen bait and listening for the telltale zzzz of a reel being stripped, we had our first hookup. And then another. And another.
The first one was lost to one over zealous fisherman I won't name (it's my dad), who decided to throw the drag immediately, causing the hook to rip right out. Goodbye tuna. The second, and third, however, stayed right on the line. Two massive fights later (about 45 minutes) we had landed two superb specimens. Yellowfin. A beautiful game fish. Right on ice they went, and after I had some fun catching the mini blue sharks that had started eating up all of our chum, we headed back in to the harbor.
Once there, we officially weighed in our catch. The biggest was an impressive 69 kilos. That's about 152 lbs. of pure muscle. We were in the middle of ogling this incredible specimen when all of a sudden chaos broke out. Men were sprinting toward the water behind the scale, yelling and waving giant wooden boards, gaffs, anything they had on hand, really. Stunned, I watched as a massive seal grabbed the tail of an equally massive yellowfin and effortlessly lifted it, fixing it take it back into the water to share with his seal friends, who were shamelessly egging him on in the background. The mob of fishermen and dock hands reached the seal just in time, beating him around the head to get him to let go of the prize catch. Finally, with the help of a gaff to the blubber, he relented and splashed back into the harbor, circling around while we all composed ourselves. It was the most ballsy thing I've ever seen.
Once the other seals had been convinced it'd be a terrible decision to ever attempt that again (though we then heard plenty stories of them ruining tournament-winning fish), we carved up the smaller of the two tuna to make steaks. Steve generously gifted us the portion nicknamed the Captain's Cut, so called because its the most sought after meat, just behind the head of the fish. We were loaded with plenty tuna to feed us for dinner that night, as well as a massive chunk extra to give to my South African's family. In all, it was a fantastic day of fishing. Except now I'm really sunburnt.
Two days before we went, he called to say the commercial fishermen had spotted the tuna. The wind would die down from a howling mini hurricane to a gentle cape breeze. The swells would shrink significantly, the whitecaps would be gone. Hoorah, I said, let's go fish.
On the way out to the fishing grounds, we spotted one humpback whale and only about six billion seals. They seemed quite adorable, jumping around foraging for food or lazing in the sun, one fin stuck up in the air (pretending to be sharks). But they aren't good to have around while you fish, and even worse to have around afterward, we learned. But more on that later.
Mixing in with giant commercial trawlers and long-liners, we set up to look for the yellowfin. After a significant strike and markers on the fish finders, we started chumming the waters. We knew the fish were there, but catching a massive yellowfin tuna isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world. Charter captains and their mates make it look like a simple process, chucking in lines loaded with squid lures or sardine, puttering along slowly with the rigs, waving away the somewhat aggressive and incessant bird life. It's just fishing, right? How hard can it be? No. Wrong. Absolutely not. I won't give away all their amazing tricks, tips and secrets (as they've been hard earned by years and years of experience on the water, and I'm sorry readers, but you must put the work in for that yourself) but finding, baiting and catching a tuna the size of an adult male requires an impressive skill set, and luckily Joey and Steve were there to augment our vast lack of knowledge on the subject with their expertise.
To make a long story short, after a few hours of scanning the surf, chasing away Storm Petrels and Albatross, rechecking lines, reloading stolen bait and listening for the telltale zzzz of a reel being stripped, we had our first hookup. And then another. And another.
The first one was lost to one over zealous fisherman I won't name (it's my dad), who decided to throw the drag immediately, causing the hook to rip right out. Goodbye tuna. The second, and third, however, stayed right on the line. Two massive fights later (about 45 minutes) we had landed two superb specimens. Yellowfin. A beautiful game fish. Right on ice they went, and after I had some fun catching the mini blue sharks that had started eating up all of our chum, we headed back in to the harbor.
Once there, we officially weighed in our catch. The biggest was an impressive 69 kilos. That's about 152 lbs. of pure muscle. We were in the middle of ogling this incredible specimen when all of a sudden chaos broke out. Men were sprinting toward the water behind the scale, yelling and waving giant wooden boards, gaffs, anything they had on hand, really. Stunned, I watched as a massive seal grabbed the tail of an equally massive yellowfin and effortlessly lifted it, fixing it take it back into the water to share with his seal friends, who were shamelessly egging him on in the background. The mob of fishermen and dock hands reached the seal just in time, beating him around the head to get him to let go of the prize catch. Finally, with the help of a gaff to the blubber, he relented and splashed back into the harbor, circling around while we all composed ourselves. It was the most ballsy thing I've ever seen.
 |
| This seal means business. And by business he means stealing your hard earned tuna and chowing it in front of you. While laughing maniacally. And then booking a room at the Mount Nelson. After which going down in history as Lord Sealington, great sequesterer of the Southern Oceans. |
Once the other seals had been convinced it'd be a terrible decision to ever attempt that again (though we then heard plenty stories of them ruining tournament-winning fish), we carved up the smaller of the two tuna to make steaks. Steve generously gifted us the portion nicknamed the Captain's Cut, so called because its the most sought after meat, just behind the head of the fish. We were loaded with plenty tuna to feed us for dinner that night, as well as a massive chunk extra to give to my South African's family. In all, it was a fantastic day of fishing. Except now I'm really sunburnt.
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