The Big Tuna

The weather forecast from Fatu Hiva to Raroia looked pretty good. The winds were not predicted to be that strong, but it was forecasted to be about 15 knots on the beam. Perfect. It was 400 miles from Fatu Hiva, and we wanted to time our arrival for early morning. We decided to leave at sundown on Monday evening and hoped to arrive Thursday morning.

The sail started out beautifully. We had winds as predicted and a comfortable sail through the night. But, by mid-day the next day, the winds started dropping and shifting more from the north. That put the winds aft of the beam. When the wind is behind us, we need stronger winds to keep the sails full and the boat moving forward. So, this combination was seriously slowing us down. We used the spinnaker when we could and altered course to head into the winds a bit and hopefully get more apparent wind.

As Tuesday was coming to a close, and we were seeing our boat speed dip down to under 4 knots, we realized we were not going to make landfall during daylight on Thursday. We would have to push for arriving Friday morning. The timing on arrival into an atoll is pretty critical. An atoll is a ring of islands and reefs with a lagoon in the middle. To enter the lagoon, you have to find a pass in the reef deep enough for the boat to enter. Luckily, these have all been charted by many others long ago.

Because the tides will have to push all of the water in and out of the lagoon through the small pass, the currents in the pass can be quite fierce. If you are coming into the lagoon through the pass when the tide is ebbing, you could be fighting a current that is stronger than your boat is able to overcome. And, if the wind and tide are opposing, it can create come standing waves in the pass. Therefore, it is critical to try and time your crossing into the lagoon at or near slack tide when there is the least current. Based on the best information we had, the slack low tide was about 8:30 on Friday morning. (The tide information is sketchy because there are not tide stations at every atoll, so you have to extrapolate from tide stations elsewhere in the Tuamotus.)

Now that we had resigned ourselves to arriving Friday morning, we could relax and sail as much as we could, even when we weren’t making great speed. We’re still in the trade wind belt, so when the winds dropped to under five knots it was not only frustrating but quite surprising. We had to motor the last twelve hours just to make our Friday arrival.

The benefit of the calm winds and seas meant that it was perfect conditions for fishing. We hadn’t caught anything since the two tuna off Nuku Hiva some weeks ago. In the spirit of friendly competition, we made a fishing bet with our friends on Kini Popo who were traveling with us. The winner was the one with the largest fish. The losing boat would have to make cocktails for the winning boat.

It was late afternoon on Thursday, and we hadn’t caught anything. We hadn’t even had a single strike. Kini Popo caught a 7 lb skipjack, so they were in the lead. Mike & I were sailing slowly with the spinnaker up when I spotted dozens of birds circling around and diving about a quarter mile off our starboard side. We quickly doused the spinnaker and started up the engine to head in that general direction. As we got closer, we could see huge splashing at the surface and the occasional fin. From a distance, we were sure it must be dolphins feeding. I got up on the bow to get a better look and quickly realized that the fish on the surface were not dolphins. They were as big as dolphins, but the spiky yellow fin breaking the surface gave away the huge yellowfin tuna school in front of us.

Just as we seemed to be approaching the school of tuna, our line took off. The line peeled and peeled even as Mike set the drag and we slowed the boat down. We knew we had a big one on the line. I quickly moved everything I could out of the way so Mike could work on reeling in the fish in whatever direction it took him. I could see Mike struggling and ran to get his fishing belt that holds the butt of the rod. Mike worked and worked on that fish for about 45 minutes. He was now circling off the port side and getting close to the surface. We couldn’t believe the size of the tuna! He was 5-6 feet long and clearly over a hundred pounds.

Mike gave me the rod to hold while he got ready to gaff the fish. The force the fish had on the line was immense. I was praying I wasn’t going to drop it! Mike took a first grab at gaffing the fish but didn’t get the gaff in very deep. He knew if he pulled up, it was likely to pull through the fish. So, he tried to redo it and gaff again. But, as he tried this, the wire leader got wrapped around the gaff and snapped. Bye, bye fish (and lure). Mike was completely dejected. It was the biggest tuna of his life, and he couldn’t believe he blew it. I’ve never seen him so depressed over a fish!

So, I was not surprised that early the next morning Mike had the fishing lines in the water before sunrise. It was about six o’clock and we had two hours left to Raroia. I had gone to sleep at 4:30 ending my night watch and was dead asleep when I heard Mike yelling.

Half asleep I ran up the companionway stairs to the sound of the fishing line peeling out and Mike excitedly barking orders. Before long, we had the fish at the gate ready to gaff again. It was another yellowfin tuna and just as big as the one from the day before. Mike gave me the rod again as he got ready to gaff. He was determined not to mess it up this time, but I was wondering how the heck he was going to pull this fish up on the deck that looked bigger than him!

Somehow adrenaline must have kicked in, because before I knew it Mike had that fish up on deck in one big pull. I think we were both shocked at the size of it now that we saw it out of the water. It was an incredible fish.

I grabbed our giant fillet knife to give to Mike. He wanted to make sure he killed the fish so that it didn’t thrash around and get off the boat. He stabbed the beast in the top of the head, but for some reason that just did not kill the sucker. The fish started thrashing like crazy beating its tail up and down. Mike jumped on top of it, and it was like he was riding a bucking bronco!

Eventually the fish finally gave it up, and Mike got to work filleting the fish. Although, he said that this was more like butchering than filleting. I took bowl after bowl of tuna steaks downstairs to package into ziplock bags and put into the refrigerator and freezer. I had no idea how we were going to eat this much tuna! Luckily, there are always people around who love tuna. We gave tuna to four other boats and some of the locals in Raroia. And, we still had a freezer full. So far we’ve had tuna sashimi, tuna poke, poisson cru, seared tuna, and tuna salad. I’m working on how many other different ways I can make tuna.

As fishermen are proud of their catch and excited to show off the exploits, Mike cannot stop talking about the biggest tuna he’s ever caught and showing all the other boats the photos. When I went to take a photo after the fish was on deck, Mike couldn’t even lift it completely off the deck. The tail went up past his chin (and Mike is 6’2”). We originally thought it must be a hundred pounds, but I think it must have been over 150.

Here’s the video of our tuna!

We won’t be fishing for a while, until we eat all this tuna, but Mike is already working on his next project of hunting coconut crabs.

~katie