My First White Seabass
On August 15, 2004, it was the near the end of the second day of diving at San Benitos Island. I had just concluded my final dive master shift for the day aboard the Horizon when I was greeted by one of the passengers who, in the process of dispatching his fish, went by way of his leg. After administering first aid, I only had an hour and a half left for diving. Very few fish were being taken and the current was ripping. I was in a quandary whether to give into the comforts of a warm galley or to take advantage of just getting in the approximately 65 degree Mexican waters regardless if there was fish or not. I asked myself, 'how often do I get to San Benitos?' I donned my suit, collected my gear, grabbed the 60" Wong hybrid speargun I had used for the first time that the morning to land a 30# Yellowtail and climbed aboard a skiff to take advantage of the remaining dive time. I was told I only had a one chance, maybe two, to dive on a kelp bed before I was swept past them. Diving down I witnessed very little bait and no yellowtail. There certainly was no croaking from the elusive White Seabass even to taunt me! Once I got close to the boat, I decided I had my water time and called it a day. Kicking to the swim step, the skiff came along side me. Jessie, the skiff driver, announcing there was enough time to make one more run, asked if I wanted a ride back up current. What the heck. I climbed aboard and joined the only other divers, Capt. Chris and deckhand Mario, still remaining in the water for one last drift. Jessie dropped us off a little closer to the island, allowing us to drift over different set of kelp beds. After a couple of dives, I came upon a large kelp bed. It was beautiful! So much so, I grabbed a hold of one of the kelp stalks that was forced horizontally in the current in hopes I could breathe up to make one more dive on that bed before being briskly taken to the next. Enjoying the luxury of not working against the current and appreciating the underwater scenery, a fish swim lazily below me. I said to myself, 'THAT is a White Seabass!!'. Letting go of the kelp stalk, I descended to be parallel with this amazingly beautiful fish. She turned ever so slightly, never giving me a full broadside, but enough. Without hesitation, I aimed and shot. She began to run. I felt the break away engage and hold. I held tight to the line and did what I could to keep her from tangling in the kelp. Reaching the surface, I yelled for Jessie to let him know I had a fish on, that I just speared my first White Seabass. The line became taught. Shoot fire! Even though I couldn't see her, I knew she was tangled, but she wasn't going anywhere. I clipped my float to the line to keep the slack out. My adrenaline was pumping. I kept Gene Higa in mind, giving myself a long time on the surface time to breathe up. I knew I had to dispatch her first to make the job of getting out of the kelp easier. With my knife in hand, I followed my float line down to my mono... 'Why did I rig it with clear mono! Wait a minute, forget the mono. Look for a big fish!' Descending to the base of the kelp, about 40-45', there she was. (Was she 30#?) I embraced her to dispatch her with the knife. Without a typical quiver as a response, I had the impression I was going to be making several dives before I got her to the surface. I surfaced and grabbed a hold of the float line. 'What?! I am moving.' I slowly began to bring in my line to find she had not tangled, but only wrapped partially around the base of the kelp preventing me from pulling her up before. Now, here she came, broadside, exposing my nice shaft placement just behind her right gill plate along the lateral line. Once I got her to me, I hugged this beautiful fish for a long time before making the sounds of elation - which were heard all the way to the Horizon. Lifting the fish into the skiff (was she 40#?), I realized the spear tip never penetrated all the way through the fish. To my fortune, my Aimrite tip had securely toggled inside. Arriving back at the boat, there was a very humbling, yet highly celebratory reception from everyone on the boat to see my first White Seabass. Everyone was as anxious as I was to know the exact weight of her, but the undulating scale prevented us from knowing for sure. We would have to wait until we returned to Pt. Loma, CA. The Horizon crew was so incredibly good with my fish, wrapping her and placing her carefully in the boat freezer. They did such a good job that when she was brought out of the freezer several days later and was unwrapped, she looked just like the day I speared her.
Who would have thought the official weight of my first White Seabass would be 50.6#?!
Brandi Easter
On August 15, 2004, it was the near the end of the second day of diving at San Benitos Island. I had just concluded my final dive master shift for the day aboard the Horizon when I was greeted by one of the passengers who, in the process of dispatching his fish, went by way of his leg. After administering first aid, I only had an hour and a half left for diving. Very few fish were being taken and the current was ripping. I was in a quandary whether to give into the comforts of a warm galley or to take advantage of just getting in the approximately 65 degree Mexican waters regardless if there was fish or not. I asked myself, 'how often do I get to San Benitos?' I donned my suit, collected my gear, grabbed the 60" Wong hybrid speargun I had used for the first time that the morning to land a 30# Yellowtail and climbed aboard a skiff to take advantage of the remaining dive time. I was told I only had a one chance, maybe two, to dive on a kelp bed before I was swept past them. Diving down I witnessed very little bait and no yellowtail. There certainly was no croaking from the elusive White Seabass even to taunt me! Once I got close to the boat, I decided I had my water time and called it a day. Kicking to the swim step, the skiff came along side me. Jessie, the skiff driver, announcing there was enough time to make one more run, asked if I wanted a ride back up current. What the heck. I climbed aboard and joined the only other divers, Capt. Chris and deckhand Mario, still remaining in the water for one last drift. Jessie dropped us off a little closer to the island, allowing us to drift over different set of kelp beds. After a couple of dives, I came upon a large kelp bed. It was beautiful! So much so, I grabbed a hold of one of the kelp stalks that was forced horizontally in the current in hopes I could breathe up to make one more dive on that bed before being briskly taken to the next. Enjoying the luxury of not working against the current and appreciating the underwater scenery, a fish swim lazily below me. I said to myself, 'THAT is a White Seabass!!'. Letting go of the kelp stalk, I descended to be parallel with this amazingly beautiful fish. She turned ever so slightly, never giving me a full broadside, but enough. Without hesitation, I aimed and shot. She began to run. I felt the break away engage and hold. I held tight to the line and did what I could to keep her from tangling in the kelp. Reaching the surface, I yelled for Jessie to let him know I had a fish on, that I just speared my first White Seabass. The line became taught. Shoot fire! Even though I couldn't see her, I knew she was tangled, but she wasn't going anywhere. I clipped my float to the line to keep the slack out. My adrenaline was pumping. I kept Gene Higa in mind, giving myself a long time on the surface time to breathe up. I knew I had to dispatch her first to make the job of getting out of the kelp easier. With my knife in hand, I followed my float line down to my mono... 'Why did I rig it with clear mono! Wait a minute, forget the mono. Look for a big fish!' Descending to the base of the kelp, about 40-45', there she was. (Was she 30#?) I embraced her to dispatch her with the knife. Without a typical quiver as a response, I had the impression I was going to be making several dives before I got her to the surface. I surfaced and grabbed a hold of the float line. 'What?! I am moving.' I slowly began to bring in my line to find she had not tangled, but only wrapped partially around the base of the kelp preventing me from pulling her up before. Now, here she came, broadside, exposing my nice shaft placement just behind her right gill plate along the lateral line. Once I got her to me, I hugged this beautiful fish for a long time before making the sounds of elation - which were heard all the way to the Horizon. Lifting the fish into the skiff (was she 40#?), I realized the spear tip never penetrated all the way through the fish. To my fortune, my Aimrite tip had securely toggled inside. Arriving back at the boat, there was a very humbling, yet highly celebratory reception from everyone on the boat to see my first White Seabass. Everyone was as anxious as I was to know the exact weight of her, but the undulating scale prevented us from knowing for sure. We would have to wait until we returned to Pt. Loma, CA. The Horizon crew was so incredibly good with my fish, wrapping her and placing her carefully in the boat freezer. They did such a good job that when she was brought out of the freezer several days later and was unwrapped, she looked just like the day I speared her.
Who would have thought the official weight of my first White Seabass would be 50.6#?!
Brandi Easter