Gloucester, Mass. at four a.m. in October is cold… real cold to a Florida boy.
I’m riding through the dark streets of the nation’s oldest seaport with good friend T.J Ott, one of the stars of National Geographic channel’s hit show Wicked Tuna. My mission—big bluefin tuna—is a bucket list check off. T.J. and his brother Michael are taking advantage of an inshore flood of fish not 12 miles from the harbor.
Expenses are always a factor in commercial fishing. Big catches off Canada have tuna prices down, so fuel savings are essential. But, any time these sons of tuna veteran Tim Ott get wind of a bite, generational DNA incites an itch which can only be scratched with a bent rod.
The fourth member of our crew is Reba, the whale-sniffing wonder dog. By far the most popular member of the cast, she’s a 5-year-old Rottweiler with a passion for tuna and a loathing for whales.
With a blustery 20-knot northwest wind across the deck, it’s nice to be aboard one of the largest and plushest boats of the Wicked Tuna northeast fleet. The Hot Tuna is a 2002 Dixon 48 powered by a single six series Detroit with a 1,000-mile range at 10 knots. Kicking the throttles will push the boat up to 20 if needed.
As we approach the closest inshore spot, Jeffery’s reef, atop the shoal anchor lights of the weekend recreational fishing fleet swing in the swell. “It’s going to be a city of boats out here,” T.J. predicts. With the forecast calling for diminishing winds and clearing skies, the locals will be out in force.
After a quick check of the fishfinder, T.J. studies the electronic chart, scans the horizon then throttles up, heading for a spot I’ve sworn not to reveal. A few miles farther out, T.J slows the boat. “It’s a little deeper here, with a nice ledge,” he says.
T.J. marks a mass of fish on the bottom. “Those are whiting,” He speculates. “They’re a good live bait.”
The anchor hangs and the Hot Tuna swings bow into the current. Although dead baits and chumming are effective, here, live bait is a better option. “These shallow inshore spots are loaded with dog fish,” T.J. explains. “If we chum, they’ll pester the baits all day long.”
Meanwhile, Michael’s jigging with a sabiki rig pays off with two nice whiting. They’re quickly unhooked and deposited in the 200-gallon live well. Besides whiting, mackerel and herring are alternative lures for bluefins. When possible, T.J. practices a “match the hatch” model, preferring whichever species is abundant in the area.
Like all good craftsmen, T.J. is fanatical about his tackle. Shimano 130 reels are mounted on Offshore Angler stiff-backboned sticks tapered to 80-pound tips for greater flexibility. When T.J. crimps on a No. 10 circle hook, in my mind the rig is complete. Then, he picks up a blue marking pen.
“A tuna’s vision is extremely acute,” T.J says. “I color the hooks to blend with the baits we’re using. Nothing is left to chance.”
T.J. sets a hard drag by hand. “We apply maximum pressure to shorten the fight. You pull a lot of hooks that way, but we either land them quick or lose them. That’s the way we roll,” he explains.
When the two baits are set, T.J. settles in behind the sonar screen like a bearded mystic staring into a magic glass. T.J., at 34, is one of the youngest captains of the Gloucester fleet. Both he and younger brother Michael are tuna veterans. “Our dad had us out fishing from the time I can first remember,” Michael tells me. He seems a bit tense.
“We’re both a little nervous,” he volunteers. “We’ve pulled the hooks on nine straight fish. It’s kind of like a batter in a slump. We need to stick one.”
“I’m marking fish,” T.J. calls from inside.
“I consider a fish marked when the rod bends,” Michael jokes.
With fish below the boat, even Reba seems to know it can happen any moment. Time ticks by and more marks cross the colored screen, some rising in the water column, others hanging just off the bottom.
“We’re an hour and a half away from the tide change,” T.J. says. “Slack water will get them feeding.”
When a rod goes down hard, the brothers spring into practiced chaos. A reel-burning run removes any doubt what’s on the line—either a big tuna or a greyhound bus. The anchor line is dropped, T.J. handles the wheel and Michael mans the rod, winding at every opportunity. Reba, paws on the gunnel, monitors every move and barks moral support.
Backing a single engine boat is an art. Steering through a maze of trap lines, T.J. keeps Michael close to the fish to maximize the heavy tackle’s effect, and after an hour the tuna flashes astern. T.J. launches the harpoon when the fish is still a golden blur, deep in the water column. The honed dart finds its mark, establishing a critical link to the fish. The brothers maneuver the 500-pound tuna to the tail rope. Not until the heavy line is secured to a stern cleat do congratulations begin. The slump is over. The tuna is winched onto the deck, and Reba licks it with a seal of approval.
When T. J. announces the capture on the radio, “well dones” ring back from the fleet. Although these men vie in what’s presented as mortal combat on the screen, in truth they share, aid and care for each other in classic mariner tradition. The real danger of their occupation bonds them in brotherhood.
Back on the anchor, T.J. continues marking fish when suddenly Reba growls, bristles, then barks, angry at something unseen. “Whales,” Michael says. “She smells them.” When I look upwind, sure enough a pod of humpbacks are making their way toward the boat.
In the late afternoon we would hook two more fish and land one. A mirror image of the first, the second tuna weighs a little less than 500 pounds. At dark, the Hot Tuna re-enters the old harbor with both my bucket list reduced by one and the Ott brother’s slump ended with a well-earned payday.
Wicked Tuna premieres Sunday, Feb. 15 at 9 p.m. ET on National Geographic Channel. Phil Thompson is an outdoor writer and author. Contact him at philkeywest@yahoo.com and see his website at www.captphilthompson.com.