Special delivery: Sign up for the free Marlin email newsletter. Subscribe to Marlin magazine and get a year of highly collectible, keepsake editions – plus access to the digital edition and archives.
When a grander is caught in Kailua-Kona, traffic slows and the cell towers heat up as a crowd forms at Honokohau Harbor, erupting with cheers and applause when her weight is read out. The fish feeds many families as it is passed among friends throughout the region. It is a treasured moment and memory enjoyed by many.
A tropical storm savaged the Big Island this August, churning the offshore waters and forcing the fleet to shelter. So there was no fresh news about where the fish were gathering as Bwana left the harbor for Bob Holding’s Gamefisherman Shootout on August 27.
Capt. Teddy Hoogs, Bwana’s accomplished captain, headed south with the other tournament boats with proper esprit de corps. After fishing down to Kealakekua with his gut telling him he should have headed north, Hoogs talked with Bobby Cherry on Cherry Pit and could hardly believe his ears. Cherry had released a 300-pound blue and hooked several shortbill spearfish. Plus, text messages were coming in reporting Tantrum had released six marlin after seven strikes!
Hoogs swung north but was now 25 miles south of the action. Luckily, his 46-foot Gamefisherman is made for times like these. Her big twin diesels went operatic and her beautiful sky-blue hull shot over the slick Kona swells for the chance to fish the Keahole Grounds before the midday tide change could turn the bite off.
Lunging at 25 knots over building swells, it took an hour before they could finally see Cherry Pit working a fish under a cloud of shearwaters. Tantrum was hooked up too. Team Bwana set their baits and almost immediately had three strikes, with Casey Sherman hooking a 175-pound blue marlin for a quick release. Barry Brensinger was up next.
Hoogs had gambled with his turn north, and so far, it had paid off. They were in the fish, and with the tide change looming, they all were on their feet waiting for a big marlin. Tantrum called to encourage Hoogs, “If there is a big one in here, you are the one that can catch it!” That turned out to be true.
Hoogs saw a second cloud of shearwaters a quarter mile away with no boats nearby. As Bwana approached, a very big sonar mark appeared off to starboard, so they made a hard turn. The stinger bait, a Koya 8-inch jetted bullet eight waves back, tracked steadily, under “black smoke” ripples that show but do not break the surface. The big mark swam under the pattern and disappeared.
On the bridge, they could not know that the enormous fish had turned back, enchanted by the little pink bullet. The 8-inch jetted bullet was armed only with a single 9/0 TTS hook and 400-pound Momoi-Xtra hard leader since big marlin usually bite the corner baits, rigged to catch a freight train. She slipped quietly under the little bait and slurped it down, loafing away, showing clues of her size and strength.
Deckhand Logan McCollum moved swiftly, sensing something big. Brensinger sprang into the chair, ready for a fun fish, and his son, Cam, stood behind to cheer dad on. Then everything slammed into overdrive!
She took off like a dragster, with the 130-pound mono screaming off the reel and the spool shrinking way too fast. Far off to starboard, they saw a massive explosion of white water, indicating the dangerous belly in the line that had formed on the initial run.
“Free spool! Free spool! Free spool!” Hoogs cried as he spun Bwana to get the belly out before the mono parted. Only long years of often agonizing experiences can prepare a skipper for straightening out a belly, and in this case, Hoogs’ wealth of knowledge saved the day. The belly straightened, and they were hooked solid. She jumped clear of the water, and everyone saw her incredible size.
An hour later, after every trick in the book, they had her sulking under the boat with Hoogs working the pull from one side of the huge marlin to the other and back to both fatigue and irritate the giant. In low gear now with maximum drag, Brensinger pulled her up inch by inch, when suddenly the rod sprang up, leaving slack line trailing over the covering board!
Everyone went white, but McCollum reacted, “Crank, crank, crank,” and Brensinger, arms on fire, got the slack line onto the spool. Then the line tightened once again, and they realized the fish had charged the boat, veering off at the last second.
Read Next: The Largest Marlin Ever Caught.
McCollum threw all his weight and skill into getting a wrap, but she shrugged him off, and he had to dump the leader. The 400-pound Momoi leader was singing like a banjo string as it swung back across the transom before she rolled on her side for everyone to see. She was as long as the 14-foot beam of Bwana, so the team decided to take her to the scales. McCollum pulled as hard and long as he could until she finally rose to the surface and the flying gaff was set in her thick shoulders.
Getting her into the boat through the transom door took five men, straining and sweating. Her long and lethal bill gave purchase for two, but she barely fit through the open transom door. Muscles bulging and eyes popping, the men pulled her great, gleaming 1,081 pounds onto the deck a foot at a time. Bwana then turned for port, beginning the grateful trip back to Honokohau, where a crowd would soon be forming.
Boating a marlin over one thousand pounds is almost impossible. The fish almost always prevails, if it is even seen at all. Capt. Hoogs and the team aboard Bwana are now members of a select group to have accomplished the impossible.
