Aaron Fraser - With his "Blue Tuna" 64 inch speargun.
Swoosh, that’s the sound of the anchor infiltrated the surface of the crystal clear ocean like a bowling ball on a can of Coors light. You could hear the chains rolling off the bow of the boat like a child blowing a raspberry at you; only it was quite lightning quick and fast. The boat, Peace, a dive charter boat out of Ventura rested among the open ocean next to an island named Santa Cruz. The enormous kelp bed lay motionless and some swayed along the current just above the glassy water. There was a light breeze in the air and the current was kept at a minimal size. It was less than 3 foot. I could see beyond 20 feet and many silver streaks of bodies bolted for cover among the kelp beds. “This is going to be good,” I said to my dive partner, Jeff. There were many bait fishes scrambling everywhere as the boat lay motionless in the middle of the kelp beds.
Everyone on the boat had entered the water and scattered across the ocean to their favorite spots. Jeff and I went last. I swam off the starboard side heading north over the massive kelp forest. Jeff swam northeast of me about 50 yards glancing at the bottom of the ocean. I inhaled the cool, dry air through my snorkel when I noticed a school of bait fishes. I couldn’t make out what kind they were so I pretended to dream that a small school of yellowtail about 15to 25 plus pounds would stroll across me at close range. The truth, I miss that chance yesterday at another location. I gulped the last breathe and descended down into a clear abyss. I went about 26 to 34 feet on average scouring around hunting for a perfect legal white sea bass. There weren’t any. My lungs began to boil like hot water in a pot screaming for the surface. Quickly, I’d ascended to the surface when I felt some euphoria rushed into my head. “Whoa, what a rush..” I whispered to myself. I inhaled slowly to regained my composure. I flipped over onto my belly and swam to another spot. Jeff was nowhere in sight. I’d remembered to ask Jeff what time we’re suppose to board back on the boat before riding back to Ventura. He flashed his fingers like a gangster, expressing his fingers first a number three and then one and a five fingers (3:15). It was 2:50 pm, the last time I’d check my dive watch. A full hour and twenty minutes I’ve been in the water. I still didn’t see no fish.
I lifted my head up out of the water and looked over to the boat. I could make out the numbers of divers hopping on the boat. I knew I was running out of time. My face covered with my mask returned to the water as I began to breathe up for my final dive. I closed my eyes to concentrate more by inhaling as much as I could. I placed my 64 inch, 4 band "BLUE TUNA - Andre" teak wood gun by my side in a “man of arm” position. Slowly and slightly I frog kicked to increase my propulsion forward and jackknifed down toward the ocean’s floor. My watch slowly calculated- 15, 16, 17, 20, 21,…. 28 feet I began to level off just a few feet from the floor of the ocean. I looked over to my right side and detected a movement just over 10 or so yards when the shadows began to enlarge. I thought, “what?” My lungs didn’t even burned nor felt the need to ascend when 3 identical size silhouette appeared out of a small kelp forest. They were moving quite fast as if they were spooked from their territory. “White sea bass?!” My minded went blank!! Then, I thought to myself, “don’t ruin this….. take your time…..” Three white sea bass cruised closely toward me off to my right as I raised my 64 inches Andre teak wooded gun. Slowly, I tracked the top last fish in the group. The fish took the left hook approach toward back into the forest when all the sudden “POW,” four bands snapped loudly.
My arms kicked back from the recoil of the gun. The shaft disappeared into the direction of where the white sea bass were last seen. Immediately, I surfaced and felt my heart about to explode with joy. The floatline continued to pulled until I felt the line stopped. My thought was, “Look, it’s all wrapped up now..?” I looked down to see what direction the floatline went. It didn’t go anywhere except down into the abyss. At one point the line wrapped only a half wrap before it continued down so I began to relax to get my breathing set back to normal. I hollered out softly to avoid panic among the divers on he boat. I couldn’t help myself of my adrenaline. Jeff glanced over toward me where I was about 230 yards off the starboard side. I remained calm and slowly my lungs inhaled air. I dove down to unwrap the first wrap off the thickest stem of the large kelp. Suddenly, I felt some detection like the splash of water by my head so I turned and came to face to face with Paul, a deck crew, in his scuba gear. Man, was I spooked for a brief second. Anyway, I explained to Paul that a fish had wrapped itself very deep.
He pulled out his dagger and descended below the surface as I watch his bubbles got smaller, I knew it was deep. Finally, Jeff arrived and I explained that I had shot a fish and it got wrapped pretty good. His eyes lid up wide as if he’s seen a ghost…..yet he grinned. Immediately, I peeked in the water to see if anything had happen?? Perhap Paul got held up or trying to unwrap the shooting line during his ascent. The bubbles grew larger and suddenly a shiny object appeared floating on the surface. I slapped high fives with Jeff with great joy and on my first white sea bass! I strung the fish on my stringer and began my journey back to the boat. I sat on the steps of the boat and let out a big, large sigh of relief.
I climbed up the ladder all the while everyone fixed their eyes upon me and the fish. I was told later on while in route back to Ventura, at that location everyone on board hasn’t see a fish enough to shoot one. A long, loud rattle echoed from the bow of the boat slowly came to a standstill. The anchor is finally fixed upon the bow of the boat. Peace’s twin engines accelerated; moving the boat west to California coastline. On that day, I believed it was a lucky day because it was at the last stop, and a last dive. It was a truly a great experience of a lifetime!
Happy Hunting!
Aaron Fraser
P.S. I like to thank Dan Silviera for setting me up a fast, accurate, and maneuverable speargun and its shaft armed with slip tip. Thanks Dan!!
Tom Fiene with his 190 pound Yellowfin Tuna!!!
It was one of those perfect moments that only seem to happen after lots of planning and preparation, a bit of suffering, and some very persistent, hard diving... My good friends Dan, Joe, Mark and I had taken several trips to Mexico when the timing wasn't right for Tuna and we hadn't had a chance to get tuna until this trip. We'd been diving hard for a day and a half on this trip, and Dan had seen tuna a few times, but I hadn't seen a single one. I wasn't feeling very confident in my aim with my new 64 inch Andre gun that I had only fired a couple of times and which is a lot different from my Riffe Comp 4. Plus my bad knees were hurting and I was feeling seasick. But, I knew if I was going to have a chance to get a tuna I had to keep diving. We had drifted a number of times over a pinnacle which came up out of deep water to about 70 feet from the surface. Dan had seen tuna at the drop off on the up current side of the pinnacle. He said "that's the spot!". The current was picking up, so it was difficult to get more than one dive on "the spot" before the current took you past it. Since my knees were hurting I decided to drift over the pinnacle and do a few dives just in case there was something worth shooting. On my second dive I leveled out at about 55 feet and found myself surrounded by hundreds of Bonita. They were schooling tightly around me; it was a beautiful and mesmerizing sight. I let the current carry me hoping something big might pass trough. About 50 seconds into my dive I drifted off the down current side of the pinnacle and out of the school of Bonita. I turned around to see what was there, and was shocked to see a school of big yellowfin tuna. Vis was at least 40 feet and I couldn't see the beginning or the end of the school. I allowed myself to drift a little closer to the school, picked out a tuna that seemed like my best shot, aimed a little high since I knew it was a long shot, and in that perfect moment I took the shot. Thanks to some practice and experience shooting my old gun and the power and accuracy of my new Andre gun the shot hit perfectly about an inch directly behind the pectoral fin and the fight was on. He took off like a rocket. I swam up my float line to my first float and grabbed on for the ride. After a few minutes I heard some shouting from the boat. They had pulled up near me and were asking what I had shot. I yelled "Tuna!". There was a lot of excitement on the boat, and Dan and Mark jumped in with their guns to be ready for backup shots, and Dan had grabbed the video camera to catch the end of the fight. The tuna didn't seem too interested in sounding. He only sank my first float a handful of times. Mostly he was just dragging me around. He tired out after about 15 or 20 minutes. When I was able to fight him all the way to the shooting line, Dan swam down video camera in one hand, gun in the other, and put a second shot in. When we finally got the fish on the boat I was surprised to see how big it was, confirming that it must have been a fairly long shot. The shot had only gone part way through the fish toggling the slip tip inside. Scott, the captain of the boat, thought that the shot probably hit some bones, keeping it from going all the way through, but allowing the slip tip to toggle in a solid spot with some bones to keep it from tearing out. He said the shot had probably injured the fish badly preventing it from being able to fight too long.
It's still hard to believe I landed such a big fish, especially after hunting so hard for them and gaining more appreciation for how hard it is to get an opportunity to shoot one, let alone even see one.
Special thanks to Dan for bringing the gun to me straight from Indo!
Tom