Bill DePriest-Editor/Publisher
Day-timing Swords on the East Coast
Jul. 28 2009, 4:19 PM
Jul. 28 2009, 4:19 PM
While out in Florida Scott from the office and I made our way up to deep-drop during the daytime with my good friend Capt. Cory Burlew. This was my first time sword-fishing in Florida without the wind blowing a gust.
Cory set us up in some pretty deep water (1,700 feet) and dropped a nice bonito belly down to the bottom. After about a 45-minute drift with no bites, we reset the boat, and down went the bonito belly again. Around 15 minutes into the drift, the rod bows over hard with the swat of a swordfish bill, and then it really took the rod down.
The fight was on, and it tore drag right off the bat. Then the fish began to rise quickly from the depths, and once it hit the thermocline at around 300 feet deep, it stopped and hung. We leadered the fish a dozen or so times. The first time she flashed the boat we new this was the one I had been waiting for . The fish came up hot, bright purple and full of piss and vinegar. Three and a half hours later, we stuck gaffs in my largest sword to date, a 300-pounder.
The next day we set a belly out again, and this time Scott was on. This fish was another nice one and pulled some drag right off the bat. After a half-hour or so, we were looking at getting the gaffs in a 170-or-so pounder. As Cory leadered, the fish was in its final death circles, and with about three feet left to be able to gaff him, the hook pulled right out of the corner of his mouth. Heart breaker.
No more bites for us, but a truly memorable trip once again!
The fight was on, and it tore drag right off the bat. Then the fish began to rise quickly from the depths, and once it hit the thermocline at around 300 feet deep, it stopped and hung. We leadered the fish a dozen or so times. The first time she flashed the boat we new this was the one I had been waiting for . The fish came up hot, bright purple and full of piss and vinegar. Three and a half hours later, we stuck gaffs in my largest sword to date, a 300-pounder.
The next day we set a belly out again, and this time Scott was on. This fish was another nice one and pulled some drag right off the bat. After a half-hour or so, we were looking at getting the gaffs in a 170-or-so pounder. As Cory leadered, the fish was in its final death circles, and with about three feet left to be able to gaff him, the hook pulled right out of the corner of his mouth. Heart breaker.
No more bites for us, but a truly memorable trip once again!
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