| It's
often written that such-and-such a species is "pound-for-pound the
strongest fish in the ocean," or something to that effect. I've read
and heard similar claims about everything from bluefin tuna to bat
rays. Of course it's an easy claim to make precisely because it's
impossible to prove or disprove. So I decided to do an entirely
unscientific survey of three West Coast anglers who've had a chance to
tangle with a huge variety of our region's game fish. Tunas are Tops Surprisingly, there was something close to a consensus. Ray Rychnovsky, who has published several books on California fishing and fished extensively from Alaska to Panama, says, without hesitation, that yellowfin tuna are the West Coast's hardest fighters. "You have to fight for every inch of line," Rychnovsky says, "and then they're just going to turn around and take it away from you. They never give up." Dave Vedder, another book author and globe-trotting angler, agrees. When I talked to him, he'd just gotten back from a trip to Panama with a lifelong friend who's battling lung cancer. On their first day of fishing, they hooked a 140-lb. yellowfin, and Vedder's friend took the rod. "He's only got one lung at the time," Vedder says, "and he won't give up. An hour or so in, I said, 'You know, it's not a big macho thing. I mean we're both over 60, we got nothing to prove; hand me the rod if you get too tired.' And he said, 'No, I'm gonna do her,' and he did — two hours and forty minutes. I've got such a cool series of photos, starting when he's just fresh and happy with a big grin on his face and then two hours and 40 minutes later, he just looks like he's been mugged." Barry Brightenburg, owner of Fish Trap Lures and an all-around expert angler, knows about those punishing battles. "You remember the fish you lose," he says, "and you remember the fish that hurt you." The fish that hurt Brightenburg the worst was an 89-pound bigeye tuna he caught aboard a local San Diego party boat back in 1986. Bigeye tuna are similar in appearance to yellowfin but somewhat thicker-bodied. They prefer slightly cooler water, and the fact that they spend most of their time 500 to 1,000 feet down means they're not often caught by sport anglers. When they are hooked off the American West Coast, it's frequently by anglers trolling large jigs for marlin. "When I was a kid," Brightenburg says, "you'd hear these stories about guys fighting bigeye on marlin tackle for three hours, four hours, tackle blowing up, broken reels, broken hooks. It was like they were this sea monster, you know, that the marlin guys hated. It always intrigued me, and then I finally got one and it kicked my ass. I didn't have a two-speed, just an old Penn Senator. I'll always remember having that thing at just deep color where you could see it and pulling on it for a solid hour." I've never caught a bigeye myself, but I'd argue that bluefin tuna pull harder than yellowfin. Vedder hasn't caught a bluefin, and Rychnovsky said he'd caught so few he couldn't make a distinction. At any rate, though, it seems that for sheer strength and endurance, the tunas — with the exception of albacore, which aren't as strong as the other three species — are tops. Of course, none of the four of us has squared off with a broadbill swordfish, which is generally acknowledged to be the strongest and toughest saltwater fish of all. Dirty Fighters and Drag-burners If the tunas have a weakness, it's that they fight clean, maybe taking one or two long horizontal runs and then just slugging it out straight below the boat. California yellowtail, on the other hand, are about the dirtiest fighters of all — and very close to the tunas in terms of pulling ability and endurance. They run right for the rocks or kelp or even the anchor rode and often end up breaking off. It's nothing but instinct, of course, but it's easy to think of them as smart. "I can remember so clearly," Vedder said of a long-range trip he'd been on, "we were getting 50- and 60-lb. tuna, and the skipper said use your 30- or 40-lb. gear. Then we moved and got into a bunch of 20-, 25-lb. yellowtail, and he said put on your 50-lb. They're pretty amazing." Again, it's not that yellowtail are more powerful than tuna; it's just that you have to put more pressure on them to keep them away from anything they can break your line on. "I'll bet if a yellowtail got 300 lbs. you'd never land it," says Vedder. The yellowtail's close relative the amberjack — known in Mexico simply as pez fuerte, or "strong fish" — is an equally tough adversary. And if local names are an indication of fighting ability, the jack crevalle — called toro ("bull") in Mexico — must be right up there. They're not a popular target for sport anglers, in part because they're no good to eat, but they sure can put up a fight. "A lot of times when we're fishing roosterfish," says Vedder, "we'll think we've got a big rooster, but it's not; it's a 20-lb. jack. They don't get that big, but imagine one that was 80 lbs." Another inshore tropical gamester more than worthy of mention is the Pacific cubera snapper, also known as colorado snapper and, for its intimidating set of choppers, dog snapper. Inhabiting reefs from about central Baja to Panama, they lack the speed and endurance of the ultra-streamlined tunas and jacks, but they're unbelievably powerful when first hooked. "I was at a lodge in Central America that had just opened," Vedder recalls, "and we started out trolling with big Rapalas and 80-lb. line and really heavy gear. I said, 'So what might we get here?' and the guide said, 'cubera snapper.' I said, 'Well how big do they get?' and he said, 'I don't know, we've never landed one.'" Brightenburg likewise recalls tangling with cuberas off Panama on the San Diego long-range boat Royal Star: "The first day I was fishing a jig with a dead mackerel on it. I hooked a fish on 40-lb. line and never stopped it, hooked a fish on 60 and never stopped it, hooked a fish on 80 and never stopped it. I was pinned to the rail with a two-speed reel and the drag pushed all the way to full, just holding on. Once they got their heads turned, they were just burning line, and that was it — you were done." What about Billfish? So what about billfish, which most non-anglers think of as the ultimate fighting fish? Well, they certainly put on the most spectacular show in fishing, jumping, "tail-walking," "greyhounding" and making blazing-fast runs (the sailfish, incidentally, is the fastest fish in the ocean with a top speed of nearly 70 mph). But, with the exception of swordfish, billfish tend to wear themselves out with all the fireworks. "You just hold on for a while, keep good tension on them, and before long they come in," says Rychnovsky. "I think wahoo are kind of the same way. They're such spectacular fighters, but they wear themselves out." On the other hand, when marlin, especially the larger, heavier-bodies blues and blacks, forego the fireworks and fight deep, they can make you suffer. "A lot of times the bigger ones, over three or four hundred pounds, will sound on you," says Vedder, "and then it's just take a foot, lose a foot for an hour and a half, two hours, four hours ..." A Very Touchy Subject Which brings us to a very touchy subject among West Coast anglers: where do salmon fit into the hierarchy of fighting ability? "I'll get run out of town for saying this," says Vedder, who lives in Washington, "but they don't compare to tuna or yellowtail. Up here, that's blasphemy, but it's true. On appropriate tackle, a 30-lb. chinook [king salmon] will give you hell of a fight for about 15 minutes." Rychnovsky agrees but says silver salmon, which don't grow as big as kings but are known for their aerial displays, are still among his favorite adversaries: "You think you've got him up and he's laying there on his side, and all of a sudden, zip! he's gone again. Silvers seem to have the ability to keep on fighting. You think you've got 'em whipped, and then they make that last run." And what about those monster Alaskan and Canadian halibut? "There are an awful lot of people who don't know what they're talking about that tell you landing a halibut is just like pulling up an anchor," says Vedder. "Well that's not true. My biggest halibut was about 180 lbs., and it was like pulling up an anchor that had an Evinrude hooked to it. "The big ones when they're first hooked will do what we call "galloping" — if you can imagine the whole fish kind of undulating head-to-tail — and you can actually feel the undulations when they're ripping line off the reel, and it's pretty impressive. I wouldn't call it fun; it's just a hell of a lot of work, but for a fight, yeah, he's right there, I don't know anybody much stronger." Ultimately it's of course impossible to say which is the strongest or hardest-fighting fish in the ocean — even if you've somehow managed to get in the ring with most of them. And that's a good thing; if it were possible to nail down, we couldn't speculate and argue about it endlessly — and I would have missed out on three enjoyable conversations with three great anglers. |