Note: This was a selfish write up. It may well be a of waste of ten minutes of your life. If this style of write up is out of charachter for this board, please feel free to delete.
It was a great dream, like the bullshit you read in Penthouse forums, but the kisses were getting oddly sloppy and the ear nibbles a little too rough.
Lola?
And so I awoke from my siesta to find Lola’s paws on my chest chewing on my ear like a piece of cheap raw hide from Petco. It was Father’s day and I had apparently dozed off after reading all the cards the dogs wrote to me to say, “Gee; you’re such a great Dad”.
I rolled off the couch and announced to my wife that I’d be heading out for an afternoon dive. With a sigh of relief, she stopped her chores, tossed me the dogs’ leashes and told me she’d gladly load my gear in the truck and pack a Twix in my bag if I’d only just take Poncho and Lola for a quick walk. That sounded fair enough to me, so I complied with her wish and an hour later I rolled to a stop where friends had referred me. My normal dive partner couldn’t break away. He had real kids who wrote him real cards, so this was another solo dive. As I walked to the bluffs I was pleased that there were no anti-fishing activists to harass me this day. Unfortunately, they too were raising children and were likely at home with their spawn.
I almost always cram my dives in at first light, because that’s what life deals me, so it was a unique experience for me to be slipping through the calm surf at a convenient time to coincide with a late afternoon high tide. The sun was still fairly high in a thinly overcast sky and the water was clear, so the visibility was much better than any I had seen in recent months. Fish, particularly fat calico bass, seemed to be suspended everywhere high in the kelp forest; all with pot bellies, that looked painfully stretched to bursting point. Rather than darting away, they lumbered along side escorting me among the blue perch and senoritas through the clear green water of the kelp forest. It was good to be alive.
I was using a new snorkel that seemed an inch too short and the Bonine I usually swallow was still sitting on the kitchen counter next to a glass of water so by the time I reached my hunting zone I was feeling just a little queasy. As I floated over a piece of reef I stuck a finger down the neck of my suit and let it flood with refreshingly cold water. That ought to keep the motion sickness at bay for at least another fifteen minutes, I thought to myself as I watched a long silvery fish with a distinct yellow bronze accent glide out of the dense kelp and onto the reef below.
Holy Shit! They are here. I do have a chance! This could be the day! The fish, maybe 18 lbs., slowly cruised under me in 10 feet of water. I thought about the surface shot debate and did it really applied when the spear tip is only five feet from its target? The fish was hunting and so was I, so after he faded from view I dropped off the reef and into the dark forest canopy that surrounded the rock like the Dread Pirate Roberts’ Fire Swamp. As I neared the bottom I was greeted by a chorus of croaking. My heart rate quickened and I returned to the surface for my one up. Then again, I dropped to 10 feet and started to slowly kick through the kelp. More croaking and then, Boom, Boom!
phuck!
A white sea bass shot out from underneath me. Not a monster by any means, but certainly legal size and I was just looking to take my first. Again, I found a thin spot in the kelp canopy and started my breath up.
When my heart rate settled I took one last lung full of air, pulled the snorkel from my mouth, pinched my nose and thought to myself, why does my nose always itch so high on the bridge where I can’t reach it? I scratched at the lens with my finger. That pisses me off! I make a pike and lift one fin and sink slowly to the bottom only fifteen feet below. Damn it’s dark down here; kind of spooky too. The croaking- it feels like it’s coming from within and now just as my eyes begin to adjust I see this big fat head and the eye of Sauron peering at me from no more than four maybe five feet away, just on the other side of a kelp stalk. I am aware of another sea bass to my right. He is sooo close. How did he get here without me seeing him, and why is my gun pointed at the bottom?
With my right hand on the trigger at my waist, I use my left hand to raise the barrel level with the fish careful not to poke him in the process. At the same moment that I pull the trigger a hundred thoughts run through my head. Damn he’s big. This is actually gonna happen. I hope he doesn’t run deep; I only have 50’ feet of float line. Can he hear my heart pounding? My friends did me right.
BLAM!
I can’t remember seeing the tip of my spear but apparently I’m a pretty good hip shot from five feet away. The fishes head stopped as his tail pin-wheeled around the shooting line.
There is a “seam” that runs the length of the fishes belly and its facing the surface and I think to myself, `this is the only fish I know of that has that ridge like a cheap plastic Happy Meal toy molded in some far off Chinese factory`. All twitter pated I burst through the kelp canopy and immediately looked down to watch the fish weakly kick around the kelp stalk as another white sea bass glided over him briefly eclipsing the dying fish’s silver sides. Boy they are stupid today.
I return to the surface just long enough to pull my knife from its sheath at my left calf and dive down to knife the fish in the head. My heart is racing so fast that I only have time to burry the knife in the fishes head. I leave it there. When I return to the fish after a brief surface interval, the knife is gone. No bueno, I thought to myself. How will I cut this sucker out from the kelp? I grab the near lifeless fish by the gills and the shaft too and try to pull him to the surface. SNAP! What- the- fuck? I’ve lost lift and my right foot is kicking far too easily.
I make the surface with fish in hand and assess the situation.
Shit!
I’ve snapped a fin, and lost my knife. My legs are wrapped in float line and every time I pull up on the fish it pulls the gun towards the bottom. Add to that that I am in the thickest piece of kelp around and the tide is beginning to drop. Not so good.
Calm down, I think. There is another guy that only has one leg and one fin. I’ve got one and a half. Another friend pulled a fish twice this size from the same location like a champ. And last of all, nothing is worth my life. I can leave it all here in the weeds if I feel so threatened.
Not so bad, I thought as I tore out the fish’s gills. I don’t need no stinking knife. With that my heart rate dropped, my shooting line came free from the kelp below, and the current pushed down the kelp showing me the path of least resistance. Thirty minutes later I reached the beach and a short drive later I was back at home with my hard won prize in the cooler and Poncho licking the salt off my face.
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