black marlin

November 6, 2023 by Elliott Stark

Live Baiting is Awesome

You only live bait when you’ve found what you are looking for. This is the bear cave… the wolf den… a lion’s kill site. They are here. You can feel them.

Live baiting for black marlin is awesome. It is intimate. It is immediate.

The baits are close. The boat is into and out of gear. The cockpit is quieter than when you are trolling. The baits are in tight, there is less wake.

Without the whine of engaged diesels you might expect to hear the audible snap of a line bursting from a rigger clip. This is a good sound. One not often heard… experiencing it is a privilege imparted by this kind of fishing.

The clickers are serious here. The baits are large, the focus intense. The atmosphere is immediate and present.

You only live bait when you’ve found what you are looking for. It happens once you’ve come across the home of the man in the black suit… and maybe his cousin in blue. They are here. You can feel them. This is the bear cave… the wolf den… a lion’s kill site.

You see what they’re eating. If you’re live baiting over bottom structure, the ocean is likely slick ass calm. Currents deflected upward from bottom topography knock down chop and create a sheen.

You might have come upon something offshore. A floating tree. Covered in barnacles, with a root ball the size of the bed of a full-sized pick-up truck. Surrounded by bonito, tuna and maybe a horde of dorado.

You could be fishing a rock in the middle of nowhere. Covered in birds, streaked with bird shit, it juts from the sea without anything but blue water for miles around it.

The thing is surrounded by bait. Waves crash upon its shores, white foam swirls and undulates about its boundary as the current pushes by. Before you leave—maybe even while you’re live baiting—somebody will sling a big popper as close to the rock as you can get it. This is where big cubera snapper live… but who knows what other mauler might emerge from the depths.

Roca Corbetena near Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Live bait here, if you dare.

Whatever the focal point, the fish are here. Maybe you see bait moving. If you do and its right, they’re movements are frantic. If you’re lucky you see a violent, massive swirl that happens when a marlin attacks a bonito or yellowfin.

You’ve just caught bait. You trolled silver Clark spoons or small squid heads through schools of bonito. You’ve loaded the tuna tubes.

The little tuna are perfect. You’ll use them from eight inches to about 12 pounds. If you’re gorilla fishing, a bigger bait might work. The bait fight hard enough that if you were fishing in Wisconsin, they themselves might be the main event.

There are times a 15-pound yellowfin is lunch. There are times when it is bait.

Their tails emerge from the open end of the tubes. They’re face down in the current, a constant flow of clean water keeping them aerated and alive. They alternate between times of rest, episodes of kicking rhythmically and frantic bursts that sling white water about the cockpit.

When it’s time to get to start live baiting, the crew grab them. They will cradle the larger baits—holding them not unlike infants in the crooks of their arm. They grab the smaller ones in one hand, holding them in front of their chests. Some crewmen will hold the baits upside down to keep them calm.

With their free hands the mates run an open-eyed bait needle through the soft tissue above the bait’s eyes. A wax loop that’s fastened to the big circle hook is threaded into the open section of the back of the needle.

Pulling the loop through, they deftly remove the needle and run the point of the big 12/0 or 18/0 circle hook through the open end of the loop. In a seemingly endless cycle of movement, they next twist the hook a half a dozen times before running its point back through the smaller loop.

The bait is bridle rigged—effectively tied onto a free-swinging circle hook.

In a fluid motion, they complete the process of rigging as they toss the bait into the water behind the boat. If the angler is new to this… or the mate enjoys fishing with him or her… the crewman might give the bait a kiss or add some other theatrics meant to induce a smile or bring good luck.

The bait is tied to the free-swinging circle hook. The hook is snelled to somewhere between eight and 12-feet of 200-400 pound leader. The section of leader is crimped to a big ass barrel swivel. The other side of the barrel swivel is crimped to a wind one leader that is smaller than the terminal leader, but larger than the mainline. The end of the wind-on is a dacron loop that is fastened to the mainline with a Cat’s Paw. This set up allows the angler to reel down to the swivel that’s crimped to the leader.

The mainline is likely 50 or 80-pound monofilament. The 200 yards of mono-top shot ends in a Bimini twist that connects to the wind-on. The other end of the mono is fastened to braid backing that piles 1,200 or so yards of 80 or 100-pound hollow core onto the reel.

Catching a marlin is a wonderful thing to do. Here’s some context.

The reel will be a lever drag, with the clicker engaged. The crew will start by deploying two baits—one on each side of the cockpit. They’ll run each up the outrigger clip, held in place by a rubber band that is fastened to the line. When a fish eats the bait, the rubber band loop will snap and its game on.

Sometimes a big bait or a bad rubber band pop it out of the clip… This adds to the excitement.

Once these baits are out, the crew will probably run one down the middle. This bait might be a bit smaller and will be pulled father back. Depending on the boat and the crew, this one is sometimes clipped into the center rigger. Sometimes the captain fishes it from the bridge.

Now you’re fishing.

As you’re live baiting, you and everyone on the boat waits and watches. It’s intense—especially in the presence of actively feeding marlin.

Isla Montuosa, Panama. Not a good place to be a live bait!

For the hapless baits, this situation could not be any worse. They’ve been dropped off in the worst part of a bad place at 3 AM… with a suitcase full of cash strapped to their backs. Worse yet, because of the giant hook swinging above their head, they can’t swim right…. They look drunk.

Easy prey. They are the goat in Jurassic Park—you know, the one that’s tied to a stake to attract T-Rex.

With the baits deployed, your attention alternates between the water’s surface and the clips in the riggers. When the bait gets nervous it pulls harder. The rubber band strains, the outrigger line pulls toward the water.

Sometimes a nervous bait breaches the surface. You hope this to be followed by a giant swirl or a thunderous blast from the sea.

Snap.

The rigger clip has popped. The clicker sings, waling its glorious, discordant refrain.

Somebody grabs the reel. If the angler is experienced, it will be him or her. If it’s a first timer or a charter guest whose new to this type of experience, a crewman will grab it.

Free spool for five or six seconds. Time for the fish to eat.

The angler then throws the reel into gear. You come tight. The rod arches…

If everything goes right, you’re liable to get your ass kicked.

The drag’s strain imposed on the reel, the fish flying away… dumping line into the sea as if the drag’s 15-pounds were no resistance at all.

The other side of the line is a mystery. The antagonist is a giant sea creature whose identity is as of yet unknown.

The bonito could have been eaten by any number of monstrous animals… a 70-pound dorado, a 250-pound yellowfin, a blue marlin, a black… or a sailfish.

Then comes rapture. Midway through its first 200-yard run your giant black marlin thrusts itself into the air. From the place it exits the sea to where it reenters is more than 20 feet. At its apex the lowest part of the fish is 4-feet out of the water.

If you are predisposed to such things—a passionate angler who has never before witnessed what a marlin can do—your life has just changed.

A profound joy comes over you thoroughly, completely, and otherwise inexplicably. Maybe its joy… maybe its shock. A cardiologist might worry that you’d stroke out.

Marlin fishing… live baiting for black marlin… is now part of your life. You want to do it more often. It is awesome.

April 16, 2021 by Elliott Stark

4 Days in Panama: Fishing and Having a Time

If sailfishing off of Palm Beach were like going to Augusta to watch the Master’s, catching black marlin off of Montousa is like going on safari in Tanzania to throw sandwiches at cape buffalo.

4 Days in Panama profiles the incredible fishing and life experiences provided by Captain Shane Jarvis’ Sport Fish Panama Island Lodge.

There is much to like about the Gulf of Chiriqui. Situated in Panama’s western Pacific Coast, the Gulf is a national park that ranks among North America’s most remote and ruggedly beautiful places.

Home to Coiba Island—a United Nations World Heritage Site—and the famous Hannibal Bank, the Gulf of Chiriqui is populated by strings islands and underwater topography. An intensely productive area, the waters of the Gulf play host to some of the best sportfishing opportunities in the world.

From Hannibal Bank to islands like Montuosa, Jicaron and Ladrones, gigantism, adventure and legend define the fishing here. It is the kind of place that inhabits your dreams long after you leave it. In any case, this part of the world and its inhabitants regularly visit me while I’m trying to sleep.

The fish here are large and the type that are associated with adventure and wonder. If catching sailfish off of Palm Beach were like going to Augusta, Georgia to watch the Master’s, catching black marlin and refrigerator-sized cubera snapper off of Montousa Island would be like going on safari in Tanzania to throw sandwiches at cape buffalo.

Were it not enough that the fish that frequent this place are of the remote and mysterious type, the things also have a tendency to grow big. Roosterfish of 70 pounds, cubera upwards of 50, black marlin to 700 or 800, and yellowfin to 250 (and bigger) are not uncommon here. The other interesting thing about the fishing here is that you can target them all in the same day—in zones that are much closer to each other than in other places in the world.

Pete and Hanna Robbins: Half Past First Cast

This trip had been a year in the making. It involved a couple of friends of mine, Pete and Hanna Robbins. Pete and I had been corresponding over the phone and e-mail for a while.

Robbins is a senior writer at Bassmaster and writes for a pile of fishing and other magazines all over the place. Hanna and Pete recently started a fishing travel service—Half Past First Cast.

Pete Robbins, international man of fishing.

What started with the half joke, “Why don’t you invite some of your bass guys to come throw poppers at real fish?” (no matter what type of fish someone likes to catch, every fisherman likes talking shit to other types of fishermen), soon turned into a group heading to Panama intent to catch yellowfin tuna on top waters.

While the trip was our first meeting in person, the experience proved the thesis that fishing fast tracks friendships. After all, when you meet another person that is crazy/irrational/awesome enough to travel the world trying to catch big fish in exotic places it makes sense to become friends.

Pete and Hanna have fished all over the United States, travel yearly to Mexico’s Lake El Salto, catch salmon and halibut in Alaska, peacock bass in the Amazon. Pete’s Facebook profile picture is a photo of him holding a tigerfish that he caught in Africa.

When you have the hopes and dreams of a pile of bass fisherman at stake, there’s no time for half assing a trip. You have to call in the professionals. It was time to call my old buddy Captain Shane Jarvis, owner of the Sport Fish Panama Island Lodge.

Captain Shane Jarvis: Panama Sport Fish Island Lodge

Captain Shane Jarvis is a hell of a guy. We first met in 2012 when he fished a group for us when I was working on the West Coast Fishing Club’s mothership charter operation.

Captain Shane Jarvis is a hell of a fisherman. He’s also a great host.

We’ve been buddies ever since. While we’ve talked more shit than I can remember—and even tried to plan a fishing trip or two, this would be my first visit to his lodge.

Shane first came down to Panama to help his father build out a vacation home on Isla Paridas in 2003. The company he worked for had recently sold and his plan was to build the house and fish for a year or so before returning to the States.

He never left. His first building—now a beautiful guest house for fishermen at the lodge—is now accompanied by several others that he and his general manager, Steve Folk, built themselves. In addition to his building, they lease a couple of other structures— including an awesome beach front bar and grill that sits a quarter of mile from the lodge.

Jarvis operates a fleet of three 31 World Cats. He lives full time in Panama and makes a living catching the beejezus out of big ass tuna, black marlin, and roosterfish. While he is in the hospitality industry, his occupation is perhaps more accurately described as the business of blowing people’s minds.

The Fishing in Panama

And so it was.

I met Pete and Hanna Robbins and three other wonderfully friendly bass fishermen—all of whose perspectives on what fishing can be and what fish can do would soon be altered. Joining us were Dale Steele from west Texas and Ray and Sandee Heredia from Maryland.

Our primary target was yellowfin tuna, but we’d try to catch all kinds of stuff.

The first day out I fished with Pete and Hanna. Theirs would be a thorough introduction to the wonderful world of run and gun tuna fishing.

We ran out of Montuosa Island and found schools of porpoise. Shane would position the boat at the head of the porpoise and we’d throw giant Yozuri poppers into the mix to entice yellowfin. We found willing participants.

We whacked a pile of tuna… more than 20—mostly on poppers. We had a couple nice ones—in the range of 80 pounds whiff on the lures. The 20 to 45 pounders that we managed to catch showed their pedigree—creating white water explosions upon hook up before running like scolded cats.

spicy tuna board opener — What do you do with a pile of tuna that you bring home from Panama? Make redneck sushi, of course!

Pete and Hanna were proselytized. Believers in the magical wonder that is slinging topwater baits to yellowfin tuna.

We ran closer to the island and found a bait ball corralled on the ocean’s surface. A herd of frigate birds took turns snagging little blue runners. Little yellowfin were joined by a hand full of eight or 10-foot bull sharks that piled up from underneath. The hapless baits were given two miserable choices—winged death from above or being chomped from below.

Yes, that is a shark’s head under a ball of frigates. And no, I don’t know how to use photoshop.

Panama Fishing: Days Two to Four

The second day I fished with Hanna and Dale with Captain Juan aboard the Top Cat. We caught a couple nice cubera snapper on live bonito, an amberjack and a sierra mackerel. We had another snapper chomped cubera that didn’t connect.

The same day, Pete, Ray and Sandee triple teamed a 130 pound yellowfin. It was to be the largest tuna we caught on the trip. The big tuna delivered an ass kicking—as big tuna are known to do. The pictures are wonderful.

The third day, Pete and Dale and I ran after the tuna with Shane. We got em pretty good. In the afternoon we found a couple of acres of bonito swimming offshore of Montuosa and live baited there to end the day. The animal we were after didn’t show up, but that is that is the type of place where that animal (the black marlin) lives.

The other boat caught a couple nice roosterfish and an assortment of other interesting inshore dwellers. In the morning, they saw a boat hook a double header of black marlin 200 yards away while fishing on the Hannibal Bank.

The last day, Ray, Sandee and I did more of the same. Tuna fishing offshore with Shane. The other boat fished inshore and got Hanna her roosterfish.

It was a wonderful trip. Lots of tuna. Big ass cubera snapper and a hand full of nice roosterfish. We pulled off a black marlin, saw three others caught nearby.

We witnessed many natural wonders—spinner dolphins flinging themselves airborne, sharks on bait balls, giant mother lodes of frigates, boobies and shearwaters. All the while immersed in the rugged, natural beauty of the region’s land and seascapes.

FishTravelEating: Panama

It is not possible to express the sum total of experiences such as this in terms of fishing alone. That was central to the genesis of FishTravelEat.

While catching tuna on topwater is a wonderful thing to do, the feeling of being recharged and refreshed after leaving the place results just as much from other non-fishing related aspects of the experience.

Chef Eddie Arrue’s tuna seven ways. It will change your life.

To start with, Panama is a land full of happy, life-loving people. There is no pretense on the boats here. The small trivial nonsense that preoccupies so much of the modern world seems not to have made its way here yet.

In a world where every key stroke and sentence is sometimes moderated by fear of how others might interpret it, the shit talk through the VHF radios on the fishing boats was wonderfully refreshing.

I’m not sure if this is Capt. Bufeo Malo’s boat, but here is a long liner.

There is a captain of a local long line boat who has a big nose. His nick name? Bufeo Malo… or bad dolphin (the type of large porpoise that will steal your live baits (the bad part) and has a particularly large snout).

The food is another wonderful aspect of the experience. Chef Eddie Arrue makes appetizers every night before dinner. They are hellacious portions of incredible food.

The most remarkable is his tuna, seven ways. Sashimi, seared tuna, tuna poke, tuna cakes, and three types of sushi roll. The offerings cover the entire dining room table.

And then, of course there are the friendships. Fishing fast tracks them.

Spending five nights on a tropical island—surrounded by some of the best fishing in the world, with piles of great food (and cold beers) everywhere you look—most commonly results in one thing. Friendships with those around you.

The Take Aways

As we all returned to the office—intent to pay the piper from six days away—we exchanged pictures and video over email.

I edited a few of the good ones (like those in this article). Pete’s response? “You’re like a crack dealer!”

While his allusion to introducing an experience to which others might want to repeatedly enjoy was a very logical one, the “crack” part may have been a bit off. I think that introducing bass fishermen to topwater tuna fishing is probably more along the lines of what a PCP dealer might do.

After all, both PCP and topwater tuna bites both cause hallucinations. The next time Pete and Hanna are walking the dog with a chug bug or skitterwalk, they may well see that 130-pound yellowfin pile on top of it.

February 9, 2021 by tom francis

My Best Day Black Marlin Fishing: Capt. Tom Francis

I tell the boys in the cockpit and moments later, an implosion of white water behind the boat.... Our bait disappears.

What follows is Captain Tom Francis’ best day black marlin fishing.

Francis runs the Ultimate Lady—a wonderfully appointed 92’ exploration catamaran. With Francis at the helm since 2001, the Ultimate Lady has traversed many ports in the South Pacific—fishing and cruising her way through such wonderful places as Australia, Vanuatu, Fiji, New Zealand and French Polynesia.

Francis and company are currently located in French Polynesia offering charters and private excursions throughout some of the most beautiful and remote waters on earth. Check out his latest venture at: www.seawolfexpeditions.com

Captain Tom Francis in the salon of the Ultimate Lady.

Born in New Zealand and raised in Papua New Guinea, Francis is a skilled captain whose resume and fishing accolades are the stuff of legend. If the following doesn’t make you want to go fishing, FishTravelEat probably isn’t the website for you…

The Story

For most of the past 16 years, the Ultimate Lady has made an annual pilgrimage to Cairns, Australia to fish the famous giant black marlin season. Every year the Great Barrier Reef in this part of the world sees aggregations of Giant Black Marlin that appear there in the fall.

If you can watch this video and keep doing your work in the office, you are a stronger person than I.

Some years, we have enjoyed great seasons. We have also experienced those that were average and some that were not so great. Our last visit to Cairns was in 2018.

Overall, this season certainly wasn’t one to write home about. We weren’t alone in this observation, other boats also reported stats that didn’t meet expectation. Although fishing for giant black marlin along the Great Barrier Reef can vary from year to year (it is fishing after all), even in a slow season, there is no better place on earth to catch a giant marlin.

While overall 2018 wasn’t the best, it did produce something remarkable: our best day ever on Black Marlin. This is the story of that trip.

The Aggregation

By the time of our epic trip, the majority of the fleet had stopped fishing for the season. The days were hot, hazy and inky calm. Conditions were such that one boat even returned to port upon the request of guests who felt that it was simply too hot to fish.

French Polynesia is but a plane ride away. The Ultimate Lady is available for charter.

It had been a long season for all the boats. Slow fishing and a long time away from home had most crew looking forward to getting back to loved ones and friends.

Onboard Ultimate Lady we were preparing for our last trip of the Cairns season. Not only was this to be our last trip of the year, it was one we always looked forward to.

The black marlin season in Cairns runs from September through November. The bulk of the season involves trolling baits along the edge of the Great Barrier Reef.

Towards the end of the November, the fishing along the edge can slow or even come to a standstill. That was the case in 2018– the fish were no longer congregating along the edge as they are known to do during the peak of the season.

This relates to a number of conditions. It could be due to the lack of wind and swell– that the marlin use to surf into the South current—a current that eventually sees the fish hard along the edge.

When It’s Slow on the Edge, Look Wide

When the fishing slows along the edge, boats begin to look wide five or 10 nautical miles offshore of the reef. With the fish no longer stacked along the edge of the Reef, captains search for what is known as The Aggregation. This event is no secret among the fleet.

The Aggregation is the term used for large gatherings of trigger fish that school up in the Coral Sea to spawn. Predators hone in on this activity.

Can catching a marlin change your life? We think so…

When the conditions line up correctly, The Aggregation is known to produce some of the best sportfishing in the world. The sea can be black with bigeye tuna. Yellowfin tuna of 200 pounds are common.

Tuna schools in the presence of giant black marlin is a recipe for epic fishing. The conditions would come together for us on our last trip of the 2018 Cairns season.

A Trip to Remember

We fished the first afternoon of the trip trolling three baits (our traditional approach) on a very quiet Linden Bank. With only two other boats in attendance, we managed to get a single bite and let go a fish of around 700 pounds. It was a good start to the trip, but our real mission was out wide.

The next morning we departed the anchorage early, set a couple of lures and pointed our nose to a spot that usually holds fish this time of year. Trolling across open water, there is no obvious structure to target but the water is productive– usually good for a marlin bite or two. This is always a good starting point.

It wasn’t long before we had a bite on one of our lures. We turned loose our first marlin of the day—a blue of about 150 pounds.

When trolling lures out wide, we are both fishing and covering ground. As we travel across the ocean, we are looking for signs of life—bait aggregations or feeding fish, but we are also using our sonar to hunt what’s beneath the surface.

About an hour after that, I had our first mark on the sonar and gave the call to the boys below. This sonar mark is what we are looking for—and meant it was time to change tactics.

Tactical Marlin Fishing

About 12 years ago, we developed a technique that involves using our MAQ omni sonar to locate and track marlin in the water. Tracking the fish, we then position the boat and tactically deploy bait to the fish.

A video walkthrough of marlin hunting on the Omni Sonar.

Traditionally, marlin fishing involved a blind search—trolling baits in productive areas and awaiting fish to rise and eat the bait. The bite was often the first time you could “see” the fish—what unfolded beneath the water’s surface was a mystery. The MAQ sonar changes this dynamic.

The MAQ sonar can locate marlin up to 2900 feet away from the boat—it scans in every direction simultaneously. While we troll along at 10 or 12 knots, we are scanning an area 5,200 feet wide—from port to starboard—around the boat.

Once we spot a marlin on the sonar, we begin to track the fish to learn its initial position, depth, direction and speed. It is only when we are close enough to place the bait above the marlin, will the boys deploy a single bait.

Sight fishing for giant marlin is as fun as it is effective and must be seen to be believed! It has been a very successful technique for us and one that is responsible for some of our best fishing trips.

Deploying the Bait

Having marked the fish and positioned the boat to get the bait into position, the boys deployed the bait. Not only does this technique save on bait, but also it enables everyone to get prepared and into position ahead of time.

Once we have marked a fish, all guests are in the cockpit and alert. Our angler is often in the chair with rod and harness secured.

Guests who are not in the chair have their cameras are at the ready and focused on the lonely body surfing bonito. Sure as day, we pass over the sonar mark and the up and down gives a strong marlin boomerang.

I tell the boys in the cockpit and moments later, an implosion of white water behind the boat.

Our bait is gone.

The drop back whips tight and the rod bends giving us the tell-tale sign that we are connected. As the angler increases the drag, line slowly disappears from the reel.

It’s a nice fish, the crew and I know it. Soon enough, our fish is on the surface jumping and affirming our assumptions. It’s a big black marlin around 850-900 pounds. We fight the fish for the next 15 minutes and have a good release.

Calm seas and Big fish, it doesn’t get much better!

Its only 0900hrs. “Black marlin don’t bite in the mornings – whatever…” I mutter to myself.

Sweeping the Floor

Upon releasing the fish, I start my turn just to give the area we last hooked up a quick surveillance. After a quick glance behind the boat to ensure everything is as it should be, my focus returns to the MAQ sonar display– just in time to catch the next mark!

As I line up the mark and start tracking the fish, I let the boys know to prep the bait. Jerry, our mate, is not surprised by this. We often find multiple marlin in little gangs out wide and it always pays to “sweep the floor” with a few passes after a bite or release.

Like clockwork, we track the marlin– monitoring its depth and range on the sonar. This fish is moving a little quicker than the first and appears to know the boat is close. It is not particularly happy with us driving the boat above it.

The bait is out and we make a tight turn to swing our bait out over the fish. This time, however, either the fish isn’t biting or we just didn’t get the bait close enough to get its attention.

We have seen this before. Sometimes a targeted fish will slide by the boat and bait by as little as 160 feet without biting. Without the Omni Sonar, you wouldn’t know how many fish are missed by such a small margin.

We have missed the fish on the first pass, but are still tracking it on the MAQ sonar. We adjust the tilt and range to focus the beam on the fish and maintain contact. The MAQ can do this automatically, but I prefer manual operation via the joystick.

A Second Pass, A Second 900

The fish is at 160 feet (a typical depth for a black marlin) and the big bait will be easy pickings on the surface. The second pass is a replay of the first fish. This time we get a look at the fish as she swims up and eyeballs the bait before engulfing it.

Jerry glances up at me. We both think it’s another big one.

By now its 0930 hours and we have just released another fish nudging 900 pounds. During this fight, we marked another marlin on the sonar. This was a pretty good indication that we had to remain in the area.

Repeating the sequence, we begin our floor sweep of the area. We make two passes between the two bites, which occurred only half a mile apart.

I make a third and think this will be my last before widening the search and…. Boom, another mark squelches its presence on the MAQ sonar! This mark is a big fish and an easy echo for the MAQ. We zero in on another target.

Three’s a Party

Onboard we have friends from Tahiti and Japan. Yoshi, our Japanese guest, is relatively new to sportfishing. The boss has him in the chair for this fish.

We await anxiously as we skip our bait over the marlin below us. Then suddenly, a massive bite– as our third bait disappears into the mouth of a Giant Black Marlin.

The boss is coaching Yoshi through the experience and giving me the all-important hand signals. Its blistering hot and I hope for a quick release as I fear our angler will melt in the chair!

By now, its 1130hrs and we are looking like we will get a quick release. The boys soon have the leader in hand and get the tag in.

It’s a very big fish– probably a grand.

We can’t keep it on the starboard side, so they let go and regain the leader again on port side to shorten up and release her. The boss is determined for Yoshi to exit the chair and get a good look at his fish—which is by now no longer happy to cooperate any further.

The boys have to dump the leader again with the fish high tailing out of there. We chase the fish hard with Yoshi giving it all he has with the boss instructing more drag pressure. Before Yoshi knows it– or would probably prefer to be– he is at sunset! With all the load, the fish is down and Yoshi is sweating it out in a super tug of war.

We circled and used the strong south current to slowly gain on the fish. Two hours later we again have the leader and release a 1000-pounder for our very happy Japanese friend Yoshi.

We Could Do No Wrong

The fight had taken us south quite some distance. Battling the current we worked back to our little spot. We were all grinning from ear to ear– hooking three very big marlin before lunch—it was certainly our best day Giant Black Marlin fishing.

We fished the rest of the afternoon and missed another two fish in the 700-pound range. But that didn’t matter, we could do no wrong that day.

The Ultimate Lady is an incredible adventure platform.

Want to Catch Black Marlin in Australia? A Diversity of Options

If you are in search of Black Marlin, there really isn’t much dilemma choosing where to go. Australia has fantastic Black marlin fishing along its east and west coasts.

Focusing on the EAST coast, from the Frazer Island Babies, where you can sight fish from the beach to fish as little as 15 pounds. The Gold Coast fish and further south to Port Stephans where they run a size larger and 10 bites a day, is not uncommon.

Then there are the Giants of the Great Barrier Reef—a place where encountering fish over the magical 1000 pounds is a relatively regular occurrence. When guests ask me what the chances of catching a giant marlin, I give them a basic law of averages. In 5 days of fishing, we will see a fish of 800 or better– we may not catch it, but we will see one.

Of course, this average can be broken both ways. There are times when you will not see the fish you are after, but there are times when you can catch a fish of 900lbs or better on every day of your charter, or even a couple of Granders in the same day. There is simply no place on Earth that produces more Giant Marlin than the Northern Ribbons reefs between Lizard Island and Cairns.

September 8, 2020 by Elliott Stark

Why You Should Catch A Marlin: Hope, Power and Awe

Marlin fishing is a mind altering experience and it is wonderful. You should try it.

Why should you catch a marlin? There are lots of reasons– many can only be best related after you’ve witnessed the spectacle.

Marlin fishing combines the wonderful romanticism of hope with the skillful, meticulousness of preparation you might expect from a skydiver making ready his parachute.

For those fortunate enough to have experienced it, catching a blue (or black) marlin can be a mind altering experience. This is not an exaggeration.

The thrill and exhilaration of tangling with the ocean’s most magnificent animal has perhaps no parallel. In many ways it is a reconnection to a time lost to the modern age.

Things this big and powerful are not supposed to be able to fly. Photo by Dr. Matt Holcomb

Those removed from the ocean and the incredible spectacles that happen at sea might have difficulty relating to ancient mariners’ stories of sea monsters and man-eating beasts. Watching a blue marlin attack a teaser and before ripping off 500 yards of line against 40 pounds of drag within 30 seconds of hook up hearkens back to a time before man believed that he knew and controlled everything around him.

There’s nothing controlled or measured about a marlin—especially of the blue and black variety. The ferocity of their attack, their incredible speed and acrobatic ability… creatures that weigh upwards of 800 or 1,000 pounds are not supposed to be able to fly. In its fight and attack every fish can be different.

One of marlin fishing’s great charms is also what can make it so dangerous.

Marlin Fishing: An Uncontrollable Force

Modern man is used to being in control of his environment and dictating the things that occur around him. He is increasingly a creature defined by schedule, planning, and routine.

Those who came before him already tamed and subdued the world and most of its wildness– nearly to the point of sterilizing it. Modern man is so accustomed to things working out on his terms that he is surprised when hurricanes don’t exactly follow the paths predicted by forecasters.

In many ways, this creates a disconnect in the historical relationship between man and the natural environment. The Frontier has been closed for 150 years.

These days, it takes quite a bit of effort to find wild places on land.

There are no longer many unexpected experiences on land. The time of discovery, the Lewis and Clark type deal has been gone since long before our grandparents were born.

Marlin fishing somehow reconciles this rift. Even with all of the incredible modern technology available in fishing these days—even when fishing from a seven million dollar boats finished in teak and mahogany—marlin fishing is still not pre-scripted or staged.

No matter how much you wish, hope or pay, you can’t control the fish or the ocean. When one shows up—when everything comes together, it is incredible.

Equal Parts Hope, Power & Awe

Even with all of the preparation, all of the investment, all of the lead up—a marlin’s arrival never follows a plan. Maybe the fish is 150 pounds, it could be 1,500.

Perhaps the fish inhales a lure and hooks itself. Maybe the fish simply surfs behind the teaser without ever committing to the hooked bait pitched over the side.

Marlin fishing combines the wonderful romanticism of hope with the skillful, meticulousness of preparation that one might expect from a skydiver making ready his parachute. This might sound like an exaggeration… it is not.

To watch a skilled marlin crew prepare for a season’s fishing is a privilege. The financial investment in tackle and equipment compares only to the focus and attention given to the activity by the men and women who make the pastime their life’s work.

This specialization is especially on display in places like Kona, the Great Barrier Reef, Madeira, and Bermuda. These are the places where every day brings with it the legitimate chance to tangle with a real one.

Marlin fishing offers the chance to tangle with a giant. Photo courtesy Pesca Grossa Madeira.

When you ask the captains here about why they use reels that would seem to be entirely too big and cumbersome to be practical (when cranking on a 130, you might think you were spooling line onto a 55-gallon fuel drum), each will tell stories about hooking fish that made the reels inadequate.

Heavy tackle seems too big to be practical… That is until it’s not big enough. Photo courtesy Capt. Antonio Amaral, *Bahia Sportfishing Brazil*.

Nothing In The World is More Captivating

These great fish are so captivating that they lead men to prepare every day for an encounter that might never come. More than the biggest fish he has ever caught, a marlin fisherman never forgets the biggest one he has ever seen.

Sometimes it was a fish that appeared behind a teaser. Sometimes, a sea monster that he witnessed trying to eat a 100-pound tuna. Often it was a behemoth that he hooked and fought, perhaps for a minute maybe for 15 hours— and lost.

You never forget the sight of a big marlin. Photo courtesy Captain Antonio Amaral, Bahia Sportfishing Brazil

Sometimes the hook came loose. Others it was a tackle failure … sometimes the fish happened to emerge from the depths when the captain had the worst group of charters imaginable.

Legendary Bermuda Captain Alan Card once told me about losing a brute of a blue marlin only to reel in the tail of a white marlin the blue had eaten. Instead of hooking the giant blue, Card’s hook embedded itself in the tail of a white marlin that protruded of the fish’s gullet.

No matter the scenario, every captain can remember the fish, the day, and everything about it. The size of its giant eyeball, the width of its shoulders, the neon of its stripes, the distance between the top of the water’s surface and tip of its dorsal fin… it’s universal.

This is how it happens… all over the world. Something that is nearly as universal? No matter how big of a marlin someone has successfully caught, most every one of these captains has seen a bigger one.

There Is Nothing Like Catching a Marlin: Why You Should Do it

There is nothing like marlin fishing. In the world, there is nothing like it.

There are plenty of videos about the experience that you can watch. Even those in ultra-high definition do not do the experience justice without having first seen it yourself.

My buddy Todd caught a striped marlin in Cabo. He hasn’t been the same since.

No matter how many largemouth or walleye, fishing offers little in the way of corollary experiences. Bass cannot jump out of the water and impale you. Walleye never snatch people into the water as people try to net them. Besides, you could use even the all tackle world record bass or walleye for marlin bait.

If you’d like to catch a marlin, but need some insight into the when’s, where’s and hows, shoot us a note. We can help match the trip to the experience that you are looking for. EStark@FishTravelEat.com