Super Rig

Like my buddy, after a night of partying, I woke with a splitting headache, but I didn’t care. The weather finally calmed and after multiple days of rough seas, the sun was finally shining and the ocean was calm. It was another day in paradise, or so I thought.

On any other occasion, I would have rolled over and hit the snooze button on the annoying alarm clock, but after being landlocked at the resort for the past three days, I was anxious to get out and wet a line. I woke my less than ambitious friend and advised him to be ready in 15 minutes.

It took approximately 20 minutes before we connected again. This time, it was my turn to do the wahoo waltz, and as I strapped into the harness and took three quick turns of the handle, the line suddenly went limp. Another lost fish! I reeled in the slack and checked the damage. Once again, a second fish had cut us off. Thinking of it as nothing more than coincidence, we reset the spread in hopes of finally landing a large wahoo.

With the intense Bahamian sun now beaming down on us, we continued to work the steep edge just a few miles from shore. Again, it didn't take long before we saw action. This time, all three rods got hit simultaneously. Once again, Jimmy made quick work of his fish, while the captain, Tommy Towers, and I struggled to bring ours in. Jimmy brought his fish boatside, and it was a real beauty. My estimate was a conservative 50 pounds. Not the 100 pounder’ we wanted but certainly a quality fish. I placed my rod in the rocket launcher and grabbed the gaff to help out Jimmy. As I was about to pierce the gaff into the fish, an enormous brown shape appeared out of nowhere and swallowed the struggling wahoo in a single bite. Not too surprising as the area is notorious for attracting hungry tiger sharks. I quickly returned to my rod, only to realize that my fish, too, had fallen victim to the monsters below. Our focus now turned to Tommy and his fish. Halfway through the fight, the line once again went slack. To be honest, I would have been happier if my knot slipped or if I forgot to close the snap swivel - anything but another cutoff!

By now, to say we were completely frustrated is a vast understatement. I was about to reach into the cooler for a bite to eat when I thought to myself. “I’m a homosapien - the smartest animal on the planet. Our ancestors constructed the pyramids, created electricity and killed giant woolly mammoths with a spear equivalent to a tooth pick. I think I can handle a stupid fish.”

I was not about to give up. I retreated to the bow, but not for a sandwich, I was set on outwitting these fish. I wanted wahoo!

After a brief search through the tackle arsenal, I returned to the cockpit armed with the heaviest rod and reel I could find – a big Penn International loaded with 130lb. test monofilament, an outfit generally reserved for deep-dropping. “Giving up already,” said the skipper, thinking I was over the wahoo and ready to land lunch one way or another. “Not quite yet,” I said. He obviously had no idea of the trick I had up my sleeve. 

I broke out the rigging box and quickly got to work. While perspiring and nearly on the brink of heat exhaustion, I mumbled to myself, “These stupid fish won't get the best of me!”

I staggered five lures onto a 50 foot piece of heavy multi-strand cable. The captain must have thought I was still intoxicated, because this idea was so silly, it couldn’t possibly work. Halfway through the rigging, I, too, was starting to doubt myself, but not one to give up on anything I continued to make my modified ‘super rig’ and deployed it into the depths.

As I sent the rig on its way, the action of the five lures dancing and diving on the same line was super intense, almost too much for the heavy outfit to handle. Everyone on the boat was giggling, except for me. While the wahoo seemed a bit leery of the ‘super rig’ at first, I knew they were hungry as the full moon and outgoing tide combined to create ideal conditions. We trolled by the edge where we hooked our triple header, and without fail, the drag on the heavy outfit started to scream “Ha! I got one!” I shouted. Sounding as shocked as I was thrilled, I began cranking and slowly winched the fish toward the boat. Halfway through the fight, I got whacked by what seemed to be another monster wahoo. A minute later, the line got even heavier. I thought that I had finally hooked into my trophy hundred pounder! With the drag set on full strike, I could barely gain line. Finally, after close to 30 minutes, the ‘super rig’ came to the boat. “Wahoo!” yelled the captain from the helm. As the commotion ensued, we realized that there was more than one fish on the rig! I had hooked into a quintuplet!!!!

No one on the boat was ready for this, including myself. The disarray that followed was one for the record books. Picture five 50-plus pound wahoo thrashing and head shaking, each with a cable leader dangling from its jaw. Needless to say, complete chaos was an understatement. After we boated all five fish, I looked at the captain and shouted, “Betcha’ never seen anything like that before.” He shook his head in amazement and replied, “Just another beautiful day in paradise!”