King Fish Fever

King Fever

By

Gary A. Anderson

It is that time of year again when the wind blows out of the north by northwest at around fifteen to twenty and the water temperature starts its dip down into the seventies, for the biannual run of our migrating King Mackerels, back to their home in the tropics. All along west coast of Florida beaches, westerly winds bring in the bait and right on, their heels are Kings, big kings averaging between twenty to thirty pounds right up on the beaches. Venice municipal pier, Venice, Florida extends right into the migratory highway of these streaking giants of the deep. Trolleys across the “T” represent the beginning to the end of summer with unrestrained bouts in battles of but a few short weeks to capture the biggest king of the year. It is fun to follies as each hook-up represents a choreographed moment as anglers each move to intertwine their lines in freeing the fish in its flight to freedom. Last Sunday as the water plummeted into the lower seventies, pods of bait danced the shoreline to dipping birds a flight and eager anglers cast their nets or dipped the sabiki’s in frenzy of a fill for the down buckets.

Anchors set to the tune of the trolleys in an erratic line across the rails, as each baited their favorites and released them down the lines. Hurry up and wait mode over took the minutes to hours ahead as we each awaited a wind from the west. A slack wind meant a changing of the baits in a wetting fashion of the changing of the guard as each expired to become a chum delight or an offering for later in the night. As the prevailing wind of the west increased to a stiff blow and the swell increased to a white water chap, “FISH ON!” as all scampered to see who was on deck. Dennis Cavallo’s 4/0 screamed in agony as all but a few yards to the spool before a head was turned. In a matter of moments, over four-hundred yards of thirty-pound Diamond stretched to the horizon. As the battle ensued, two more hook-ups took place creating a choreographed moment as each angler moved about shouting his direction on the deck to the battle hymens of the King with a weaving of lines as each fish took its own path. At the same time Spanish were caught as fast as a line hit the water, most in the twenty-four inch range, mixed with monster twenty-pound Jacks and Blues to Ladies bring up the rear. The birds, skimmers, eagle gulls, sea gulls and pelicans shot like missiles honing in on the targets below in frenzy while tipping lines on the dive, a three-ring circus of dazzling feats to fish. To my own amazing disbelief, while casting a light spinning outfit equipped with but a six-foot sabiki a fifteen pound Bonita (tiny tuna) slammed the top feather and made a dash to the horizon. I maneuvered around those who were hooked up to the kings, knowing all the while, this was not to, as I had on no wire with 12 pound Cajun line. Eighteen minutes later, my gaffed Bonita was on the deck at my feet. A great catch and one, which will be chunked this winter, while Bull shark fishing this winter. After a thirity minute battle Dennis Cavallo finally landed his King Mackerel weighing in at a little over fifty pounds and 59 inches long.

What a rip, what a trip; “FISH ON!”

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