Fishing Marshallese Style

Friday night I went down to the Billfish club house to find a ride on a boat for Saturday’s fishing tournament. A couple of members I know directed me to boat at the fuel dock and told me to ask for Ronnie. They said that Ronnie often took new members. Following their directions, I found Ronnie’s boat, the Keritake, and there was Ronnie loading diesel fuel onto his boat by siphoning from some 55 gallon drums sitting on a truck parked next to the pier. I introduced myself and asked to crew on his boat the next day.  Ronnie was agreeable and told me to be at the boat at 6 AM and bring my lunch.

6 AM Saturday morning I’m at the boat and meet the rest of the Ronnie’s crew. Ronnie is the Captain of his 38 foot fishing boat which he uses to taxi people to the nearby outer islands during the week. He is a Marshallese from one of the big families in the country and an elder statesman of the Billfish Club. Then there is John who is Marshallese and Ronny’s son-in-law. Next is Gary who is from Guam and last is Hue who is from Taiwan.  With me on board we have a very international crew.  Although we planned to leave at 6 AM we can’t leave because the little store next to the boat dock is late opening and we must have his coffee before we can go.

We leave the dock around 6:30 and fifteen minutes later we cross into the open ocean.  As soon as we hit the ocean Gary and John start putting out the poles.  Each pole is about as stout as a shovel handle and has reel about 12 inches thick. I found out later each real is wound with about 1000 yards of 150 pound test line. Two poles were let out the back and one pole was let out each side. The lures were rubber squid that were about two inches thick and a foot long. Each squid had two hooks.  Now I don’t know how they measure these hooks but they were about 2 inches wide and seemed to be made of at least eighth inch stainless steel.

Five minutes into the day, line starts screaming off one of the poles. The first thing we do is reel up the other lines. We have plenty of time because this fish just keeps running. Then I see him tail-walk! He comes up out of the water maybe 500 yards away and dances across the ocean before diving back down.  This thing is HUGE! At about the 700 yard mark on the reel the Marlin stops running and we begin the process of bringing him in. Ronnie doesn’t have a fighting chair so the rod stays in the holder and we work in shifts to bring in the line. One of us will pull the line in by hand while another will reel in the line.  This is a crazy hard work out for your arms and shoulders and we rotate frequently. Every now and then the fish will run little and almost pull you off the boat if you don’t release the line quick enough. Sometimes the fish will run at the boat and you have to pull like a mad man to keep the slack out of the line and even yell a Ronnie to speed the boat up.  After 45 minutes we have the fish up to the boat and we can see it’s about a 12 foot Marlin and well over 250 pounds. That means it’s a keeper and we have to get it into the boat.

Now Ronnie leaves the captain’s chair and comes to the back of the boat and John drives. Ronnie sets up the gaff hook which has a detachable head and looks like it is made from one inch stainless steel. The gaff head is attached to a length of ¾ inch nylon line which is secured to the boat.  Gary maneuvers the marlin across the back of the boat to where Ronny is waiting as the fish passes Ronny, he sets the gaff. This of course sets the marlin off again but Ronny has placed the gaff perfectly just behind the gills and the fish can’t go anywhere. Now to get it into the boat takes a coordinated effort from all of us. Ronny and Garry work the bill and head of the fish so it comes up and over the stern of the boat and then Hue and I haul on the gaff line and all four of us pull the fish forward. This is the most dangerous time for us on the boat because the fish still has lots of fight left and although we are wearing gloves the bill is very rough and sharp and could cause a serious injury if you got hit with it.  But we hold it down long enough for Gary to use a fish club on him and it’s over.  We all sit and catch our breath a minute then Ronnie resumes his place at the helm and we start shaking hands and high fiving each other.  I get special attention because it’s my first marlin. We wrap the fish in a thermal blanket and wash down the decks with salt water and then get the poles back in the water.

As soon as we are fishing again, John and Hue go below and go to sleep.  Gary and I talk and tend the poles from time to time. For three hours there was not a single bit of action and then at about 11:30 line started screaming off one of the poles.  Same drill as before and except this fish was much easier to pull in. When we got it up to the boat we could see it wasn’t a marlin at all but was a yellow-fin tuna. Again Ronny left the helm to set the gaff and we pulled it aboard.  A 50 pounder at least which makes it a qualifier for points in the tournament. 

By noon we are back to fishing.  We have crossed to the next atoll and are trolling up and down the reef about a half mile off shore.  The afternoon heat is on us and I am actually looking for a rain squall to cool us down. We all stay under the awning and out of the sun.  It’s too hot to go below to sleep so I stretch out next to the marlin and lean up against a cooler, just looking at the lures skipping across the water. I was thinking about napping when I see this sail-fin come out of the water and hit a lure. I yell fish on as the line starts to scream out.  This one does not tail-walk but we know it’s a marlin because I have seen the sail-fin. This fish is heavier although he didn’t run as far. It still takes us another 45 minutes to get the fish up to the boat. When I see this one I’m a little concerned. This one’s really big!

Ronnie come’s back to set the gaff and he and Gary begin their choreographed dance. Just as Ronnie is about to set the gaff, the fish surges and Ronny sets the gaff in the belly rather than just under the gills. Oh boy, Oh boy! Bad stuff is going to happen. The fish is really upset at this point and Hue and I are looking at each other and I know I’m thinking this could be really bad. Ronnie gets a second gaff hook ready and this time he sets it perfectly under the gills. They get the head up over the transom and we haul this monster in.  This thing is 15 to 16 feet long from bill to fin and he is not happy. It takes everything Hue, Ronnie, and I have to hold the gaff lines down and keep the head pinned. Gary grabs a fish club and swings at the fish, misses, and loses the club which flies overboard. So while we wrestle this monster Gary scrambles to find a second club and then dispatches the fish. Ronnie estimates this marlin at 400 pounds.

Ronnie resumes the helm and we shove this marlin under the thermal blanket with the other, clean the decks, and get the lures out. Ronnie is in a great mood but the rest of the crew is tired and hot and are hoping we are done for the day. No such luck. Ronny is a strong competitor and we won’t pull up lines until 5 PM. By 3:00 we have trolled back to Majuro Atoll with no more hits on the lures. Suddenly as we are passing the airport line starts to scream off a reel for the fourth time today. We start the drill all over again but this time when we get the fish up to the boat we can see it’s a smaller marlin that Ronnie estimates is less the 150 pounds and he decides to tag and release. For tagging a marlin Ronnie will get 250 points. Because points are based on poundage (one pound=one point) it makes good sense to tag and release and marlin under 250 pounds.

This time the dance is different. Ronnie doesn’t have a gaff; he has a short spear with the tag mounted on the tip. He must place the tag at the leading edge of the sail-fin. Gary brings the fish in close and Ronnie sticks the tag right where it’s supposed to be. Then as part of the documentation, Hue takes a picture of the fish in the water with the tag visible. Once the tagging and documentation are done all that’s left is to get the hooks out and release the fish. This time with no gaff it will be a different drill for all of us. Garry and Ronnie bring the fish into the boat by the bill and the line. Once in the boat Hue and Ronnie hold the head and bill, I lay on the tail, while Gary works the hooks out. Let me tell you that even a 150 pound marlin has lots of fight, especially on the deck of boat with four guys trying to hold it down without hurting it. Gary got the hooks out and I jumped off as Hue and Ronnie slid him back into the water where he floated for a second then flipped his tail and was gone.

Once again, Ronnie resumed his place at the helm and we cleaned the decks and got the lines back out. I think by this time the crew was praying for no more fish. I know I was. Anyway we trolled until 5:00 PM when Ronny ordered the lines in and we headed for the weigh-in which was being held at one of the local resorts. On the way I asked Gary and John if this was a usual day and they both laughed like I was an idiot because they thought this had been a great day. At the scales we were the last ones to weigh in. Apparently Ronnie must have let them know that we would be winning. Our large marlin weighed in at 385 pounds. The smaller marlin was 258. The yellow-fin weighed 55 pounds and with our tag worth 250 our total for the day was 948 points. Nobody was even close to us. So we got our pictures taken for the newspaper while standing next to the fish hanging on the scale. Then we loaded the fish back onto the boat for the ride to the dock. Here Ronnie would sell the marlins to a local fish merchant but he decided to keep the yellow-fin and he had John start fileting on the back of the boat. We all had a bite of the raw tuna which was excellent and then Ronny offered me a piece of the heart and after I had eaten it he said now I was a real Marshallese fisherman.

I came off the boat with about a five pound piece of tuna, a good sunburn on my face, and an invitation to return for next month’s tournament. An unbelievable experience. Life’s tough when you’re a Cabana Boy.

Willard