Article by Capt. Franky Pettolina
Tournament season is now in full swing in Ocean City. This issue of the Coastal Fisherman is chock full of pictures from the Ocean City Tuna Tournament. One of my favorite things about tournaments is walking the docks and seeing the baits and rigs that people are using to try and give themselves the best chance at winning the fancy trophy or the highly sought after BIG cardboard check (those things are tough to cash, let me tell you). Of course, some people are secretive about their lucky rigs (just like certain captains’ VHF radios mysteriously stop working when they are getting bites, but that is a topic for another time), however, most will be rigging right out in the open for all to see, and I saw quite a bit of that while strolling down the docks this week.
All of the fancy rigging I saw going on for the Tuna Tournament got me thinking about some of the unique rigs I have used over the years. Probably my all time favorite rig was conceived in Puerto Viejo in Venezuela. The making of this rig incorporated geometry, climate control, recyclables and just a smidge of drunken ingenuity and resourcefulness.
On this particular trip to Venezuela, I was on vacation rather than working. This allowed for me to kick back and enjoy myself a little more than if I was on the clock, so to speak. Me and a group of my buddies had chartered a boat called the “Ravenous” for a week of marlin fishing. My good friends (and regular Fish Stories featured personalities) Capt. Sluggo and Amigo Wayne were running the boat. We were in their capable hands and they were in for something.
The daytime antics were only outdone by the evening shenanigans. For example, one of the things I learned during the day was that blue marlin become very aggressive when you throw Polar beer bottles at them while they are trying to eat a teaser (Polar is the national beer of Venezuela). Capt. Sluggo also becomes very aggressive when his charter clients throw beer bottles at blue marlin while they are trying to eat a teaser. The night time equivalent of that learning experience was discovering that my drunken gringo friends think I bear a striking resemblance to the famed Venezuelan Salsa musician Oscar De Leon. Also, given enough liquid encouragement, I will take on the persona of Oscar De Leon and perform for a crowded restaurant in downtown Puerto Viejo. On a side note, apparently “Me Llamo Oscar De Leon y Canto Bueno” are not lyrics in any song actually written by Oscar De Leon (feel free to use an online Spanish to English translator to see exactly what I was crooning to the dinner crowd).
I am not sure if the night I became Oscar De Leon was the same night my favorite rig was conceived, but it is possible. Our merry band of travelers had returned to the marina complex after dinner and it was time to prepare for the next day of fishing. For Capt. Sluggo and Amigo Wayne that meant getting as far away from the rest of us as possible. They went up to their apartment and double locked the door. A few in our group went to bed in the staterooms on the boat. That left K-Rock, Sea Bass, and yours truly, Senor Oscar, to consume Anniversario Rum and strategize for the following morning. Drinks were mixed and ideas were freely exchanged. Unfortunately, Sea Bass quickly succumbed to Venezuelan Rum Sleeping Sickness and passed out on the floor. At this point, K-Rock and I decided that since we were awake and out of ideas, we might as well start fishing in the marina.
We went to Amigo Wayne’s bait cooler and selected a ballyhoo that was rigged on a hook and leader for trolling. We rigged it up and attached the leader to a spare length of line we found in the cockpit. The bait was dropped in the water and we were officially fishing. It didn’t take us long to realize that we might need some drop back when our quarry grabbed the bait, so we ran the line through a release clip on the port side outrigger. It took even less time to figure out that it was much too hot for two inebriated gringos to sit outside and fish with a handline. Thankfully, the length of line we found was attached to a spool and we had plenty more to use. We let out some more line and we were fishing from the air conditioned comfort of the cabin.
Just like I had earlier learned that blue marlin have an adverse reaction to glass projectiles, I learned that K-Rock and I have short attention spans. Fishing did not hold our attention and a bottle of rum did. The only logical solution was to tether our handline to something sturdy. Sea Bass was still sleeping very soundly on the floor and luckily for us he had kicked off his shoes. His big toe worked perfectly as an anchoring point.
The ballyhoo was in the water. The line was run up the outrigger, threaded through the cabin door and secured to the snoozing Sea Bass. I thought we were perfectly set up. K-Rock did not. He posed a very simple question.
“How will we know if we get a bite? Sea bass won’t feel it.” I knew he was right. What could we do to improve our rig? Good thing for us there happened to be some empty Polar beer cans nearby (cans lack the weight to be accurately thrown at pelagic species). There was a bag of peanuts on the counter and a roll of tape in the junk drawer. After some minor adjustments for maximum rattle effect, the partially peanut-filled Polar can was affixed to the line between Sea Bass’s toe and the outrigger.
K-Rock and I were now satisfied that we had done everything we could to put the odds of catching in our favor. The only thing left to do was wait for the bite...and continue drinking rum.
A few drinks later, we were interrupted by the rapid rattling of the can. The line jerked tight and actually snatched Seabass’ leg up in the air before the rigger clip released. Sea Bass kept snoring, but K-Rock and I made our way to the cockpit ready to do battle. Alas, it was not meant to be. All of our efforts had fallen short. Nothing but a bare hook remained. My most favorite rig had failed me.
At least we weren’t in a tournament. And I still had my singing career.
Capt Franky Pettolina is Co-Captain of the charter boat, “Last Call”, owner of Pettolina Marine Surveying, Inc. and multi-term President of the Ocean City Marlin Club.
