A Tale As Old As Time

Every fisherman has told their fair share of fish stories. Exaggeration, sometimes subtle, sometimes well overblown, is a mainstay among fish tales. But, who can blame us? We fishermen run on adrenaline. This is the chemical we eat, breathe and try to sleep with. It can drive our fishing addiction to the point of insanity. But, enough about what we all know, live and dream. Gather around and be prepared to be blown away by the tale I call “A King for a Day…”

From Rags to Riches

Life’s responsibilities have kept me from fishing for months. I don’t like leaving our two little wonderful gremlins for just my wife to handle, but she told me to go, and that I even needed it. Consequently, I did what every husband knows he must do. I listened to her and went quickly out the door.

I brought two rods, a heavy action spinner with a stinger rig for the kings I have seen skyrocketing daily at the beach, and a smaller twelve pound set up for snook. You all know the rig — one ounce egg sinker, swivel, eighteen inches of 40 lb mono and a 3/0 circle hook. Standard snook fare. And don’t forget the sabiki rod.

It was roughly 7am, I threw the sabiki rig until my arm almost fell off, only to get one horn belly — not a preferred bait by any means but usable in a pinch. I tried to get him to swim out on his own with a stinger rig, but he was back on the sand in minutes. I said forget it, retired the kingfish rod and released the dreaded bait. I said to myself, one more sabiki cast then back to the family. The very next moment, I hooked something that fought like a small Spanish mackerel. I had foul hooked a beastly twelve inch croaker. I put him right on the snook rig as my confidence soared. I knew I was getting a forty pound snook!

After only three minutes in the trough, I felt him vibrate, then “BAM!” The fish flew out of the water as I was looking down the beach (to see who was watching), and, of course, only to look back and see the after splash. Two hundred and sixty five yards of twelve pound mono was gone in seconds. I thought my spool was going to pop off my reel. I did all I could, I waded out neck deep, tightened the drag two clicks and hoped for a fishy U-turn. He stopped like I was snagged on a rock and held there for ten solid minutes. I would gain a couple feet of line only to lose it right back. He almost spooled me ten times — I’m talking less than ten feet of line left. Even when I would get him close, he would run all my line back out in seconds.

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

A hero by the name of Skylar saw my struggle from down the beach. He didn’t hesitate to jump in the water with me. I would get the fish almost close enough for him to grab, much less see it and another sixty yards of line would be gone. This happened at least ten times. Skylar finally saw it, looked me dead in the face and said, “You are not going to believe this… It’s a monster kingfish!”

My already elevated anxiety and panic went through the roof because I knew what it was and I knew it wasn’t over! I thought to myself, if he gets away, no one will ever believe me. The beast would see Skylar’s legs and run another thirty yards of line out. This happened at least ten more times.

A King is Crowned

Forty five minutes later, Skylar dove in, grabbed his tail with both hands and struggled to carry the beast up the beach. The crowd that gathered behind me screamed and clapped. People screamed and cheered from the hotel balconies. We stared in disbelief. God was with me today. This was my day to be king and probably my first fish story free of exaggeration. It was epic! He measured 56 inches. Weight unknown.