Three Amigos. Big White Sea Bass always look good on the deck

White Sea Bass, aka the Grey Ghost
As a West Coaster you have heard of them, hunted them, fished for them, heard them croak eerily somewhere in the distance and painfully smiled as you’ve seen your friends and other boats land them right beside you.
There are many secrets to hunting and fishing for WSB. The most successful divers have paid careful attention for years and taken mental notes each and every time they catch a glimpse of a tail or are lucky enough to glimpse the hazy off white shade of a big Croakers side.
I’ve made two WSB dive trips.
But I’ve hunted them a thousand times over in my mind and been preparing for them long before I first pulled on that 5 mil green camo suit.

Preparation:
Be ready.
When you arrive on the spot, have your gear set. Don’t be messing around with it at the last minute. Have your booties in your fin pocket and your gloves in your other fin pocket with your mask and snorkel around them both and your weightbelt right here with them. Have your wetsuit out and ready to put on and your gun you are going to use already out and ready.
If the space in the boat allows it, find a corner that no one else is using or a spot on the rail you can keep your gear organized and neat.
Now you can get in the water when you are ready knowing your gear is all in one place. This gives you time to help anchor, get other peoples gear, put up the dive flag, and you aren’t stressing at the last minute getting your heart rate up.

Scope it out:
You’ve reached the kelp bed and you are rushing to get in the water but you are about to blow it if you don’t pay attention. When you are approaching the area you are going to dive, do so slowly, quietly and courteously to the other boats that are already there. If you can hear WSB croaking hundreds of yards away imagine how far they can hear the unnatural sound of an outboard, inboard or jet ski engine.
As you approach, look at the direction the kelp stalks are flowing and take note of the current direction. Look for birds working or bait ripples on the surface. Make a mental picture in your mind how the whole scene looks from your vantage point in the boat. Use other boats, headlands, and anything else that helps you pin point where you are in the kelp bed with just a glimpse above the water.

Always hunt:
As soon as you touch the water you are hunting. Within 10 feet and ten seconds I have already made my first dive. Get the bubbles out of the suit, dive to 20-30 ft and cock your gun while you are there, stretch your lungs and work your way over to the area you are diving.
Too often divers, especially bluewater and WSB hunters who spot 90% of their prey from the surface don’t ever dive until they see something because they don’t feel the need. When a fish does come their first dive they aren’t stretched out and they blow a big fart bubble out the back of their suit and in a flash they’ve blown their first shot of the day.

Shut the %$%^ up!
You know where you want to go, go there quietly.

Keep hunting:
On the surface or underwater you are looking above, below, behind, and in every direction. The Kelp forest is 3 dimensional and the fish can be anywhere so keep your head on a swivel and be ready to shoot in any direction.

Soldier up:
Your looking everywhere so you need to be able to shoot anywhere when you do see a fish. Keep the gun underneath you and with both hands on it when the water is dirty. No matter how good you are the fish aren’t always going to be right in front of you so reduce your profile and keep the gun in a position where you can easily swivel to shoot anywhere at any time.
This means even when you are heading for the surface. if your gun isn’t pointing up when you are heading for the surface you might as well have left it in the boat. It is very difficult and way to much movement to change the from trailing a gun to pointing it forward again when a fish is sighted on your way up. Whoops you just missed that sleeper just under the surface.
Remember you are in the water, you are hunting. That means while you are on the surface or diving up or down.

Visualize the fish:
It is rare in dirty or clean water that you’ll see an entire fish. Usually it is just a fin or outline or different movement in the distance.
When I’m hunting my mind is making a fish out of everything I see. Every kelp stalk or shadow or light spot I’m automatically visualizing a fish made from that one tiny part as if I’ve been given the first piece of a puzzle and I have to put the rest of it together.
You are already good it this, you do this every time you see a hot girl or guy and are trying to imagine what they look like with a lot or all (Brandon’s mind) of their clothes off.
This will be one of your most valuable tools as a Spearfisherman or hunter if you can master it.

Fact: WSB are unpredictable as hell
Go up current and see if there are any bait and hunt the edge of the bait on the kelp side for WSB and outside for Yellowtail.
Work the edge of the kelp all the way around from the bottom to the surface looking for the fish. If you spot one at 45 feet then thats probably where the rest of them are so make your dives to that depth and keep your eyes open.
If they aren’t deep then they might be shallow, or midwater, or in the next kelp bed.
There is nothing better than time in the water. Even the biggest Cones shoot WSB and consistently at that. (a derogatory term short for Coneheads used in exchange for the term Touron (tourist-moron), Jackass, Domer, or Kook) They spend a lot of time in the water and eventually you are going to come across a fish. If you are ready you will get a shot.
Listen to reports and network with the divers and fisherman in your area. When the fish are there you need to be as well but its the guys that don’t say anything about it and instead keep their mouths shut and put the time in the water year after year shoot fish because they were there before the crowds putting the time in the water.

Riffe Euro 120 with horizontal reel

On the two trips I’ve made for WSB:
The first time, I made over 200 dives as did one of the best hunters on the California coast that same day beside me and we were both skunked while a relative rookie diver landed one.
The second time I was “lucky” enough to take a limit of three fish over 40 lbs while the other 8 divers on the boat didn’t even get a glimpse of the Ghost.
This just goes to show that no matter how prepared you are there is always a bit of luck involved. Put everything in place so that you can keep luck on your side and you will be successful when the time comes.

Willie

Jill Riffe working the Cryptic Camo Bathing Suit from www.riffeapparel.com

Julie Riffe, Suited, Smiling and ready to slay

Cameron, Kelsey Albert, Jay Riffe, and Craig Clasen with big Calico Bass and huge California Halibut

Thanks to Yeti Coolers for keeping my first limit of White SeaBass happy in their badass coolers. www.yeticoolers.com

So thats what a White Sea Bass looks like! My fish from the first day. Thanks Jay for the pep talk!

Same old story.
Big fish, hot ladies and good times.
I really do enjoy my vacation!
We had the Riffe Team in California this past week with Jay Riffe presiding over the daily design and hunting Forum. The opportunity to have some of the best divers in the world together to dive and use all the gear and put our thoughts on paper and into the new equipment is invaluable.
It is amazing to hear each of our varied tastes and techniques from around the world from five of the most travelled and experienced guys and girls and have everyone wanting the exact same equipment for the job.
Hearing and seeing the future of spearfishing equipment and putting it to use is something that I could only have dreamed of when I was still shooting Blue Tang and Slippery Dicks in the Caribbean with a three prong. Knowing that the Riffe Equipment that goes on the shelves is exactly what we want and the thought and patience it takes to design it is all worth it in the end.
DJ Struntz flew in from Costa Rica to document the week and as usual captured the striking photos that he is so well known for. www.djstruntzphoto.com
Mark Healey took some time off surfing 30ft waves to break the Croaker Curse and shoot a 45lb White SeaBass and some big Calico Bass at over 100 feet. He’s got some sick videos of 50+ ft Waves on the internet if you haven’t seen them and has had more tiger shark encounters than anyone I’ve ever met. Check it out: http://www.surfline.com/video/webiso…rfishing_22430
Kelsey Albert showed us all up by turning herself into the Hali-ho and shooting the hell out of the Halibut and landing a PB and potential WR for Halibut. Watch out for this one she has the mindset and the skills to be a contender for National Champ in the coming years.
Craig Clasen was his normal humble self quietly finding the biggest Bass each day and smiling each time he climbed out of the water knowing they were bigger than the ones I had. Dammit!!!
Jay Riffe shared his knowledge of each spot he has gathered over years of experience and networking through hundreds of spearos on the West Coast to put us on the best spots each day. With his guidance he led me to my first, second and third White Sea Bass within a few hours of each other on our first cold calm morning last Sunday.
All the White SeaBass I shot were stoned with a 120 Euro rigged with a 9/32 shaft with a Hawaiian Flopper.
The rest of the ones were stoned as well by the other guys with either the same 120 Euro or a 130 Euro with a mini icepick tip.
Those are big powerful fish but with the right techniques and patience in the water we were able to take 12-15ft shots and roll each of the ones we saw.
The Calicos on Catalina are some of the smartest I’ve seen so we were psyched to get our biggest ones there.
Kelsey used her Pole spear to land a good one at Bird Rock which is historically one of the areas that has the smartest ones in California.
Thanks to Beach City Scuba and the Sun Diver and Joel Olenik for getting us on the water and letting us do our thing. Can’t wait to do it again!
Pics courtesy of Rebecca Walker (Riffe cousin) and Richard Holbrook.
DJ’s photos will be in the Mags in a few months
The Riffe Life continues…

Choose your partner... for diving wisely. Don't trust them with an open bottle of Petron in the boat at night though

White Sea Bass. Big, good eating, hard to find, dirty water loving fish.

Notice the same exact shot placement on each fish, I stoned the first one so I figured that must be a good spot to shoot them, its worked every time since and doesn't mess up the meat so I think I'm on to something!

Having a 5 ft fish on your belt in Great White Shark land isn't the wisest idea

Mark with the Flying fish of his life.

Calico Bass can make you feel like a total ass. They are the #1 choice for all of us to hunt there because they are so challenging and fun to pursue

Big Halibut and stud Calicos

The haul of Halibut. Most of which were slain by Kelsey Albert, that girl is a killer

The last thing many an unlucky Hogfish may see in the Bahamas if you take Lisa with you. No wonder they are fooled in to letting her get so close.

Tiger Grouper in a typical hiding spot

Don’t trust her.
She’s good with kids, smiles a lot, and looks good in a bathing suit.
She also happens to be a determined underwater hunter and doesn’t take it very well on the odd occasion that a fish eludes her.
Over the course of the week we were in the Bahamas, I watched Lisa Rollins transition from just trying to get fish, into actually hunting them.
There is a difference. You can go out with a spear gun and power around the reef or wreck and chase down something in most cases. Fish will scatter and on occasion will take a look over there shoulders on one side or the other to offer you a running away shot but this is not hunting. There will always be dumb ones that don’t move or wait too long to run for cover that you can pull a shot off on.
In the Bahamas, most people that are diving there are making the transition from diving with Tanks and Guns to Freediving and Pole Spears or Hawaiian slings.
Your bottom time is limited, your range is cut to less than a quarter of what is was before.

Its time to get tactical and think a bit more into your diving and turn yourself into a Hunter.

1. Blend in

Peacock Flounder. Take some notes. Blend in

You need to be able to get close to the same fish that you are hunting back home but you are going to have to think more into it. Get yourself in the mindset that you are supposed to be there, and fish are supposed to come close to you. Get a Camoflauge wetsuit and when you are heading for the bottom don’t be frantic, if the fish isn’t right underneath you angle to the bottom and lay there, “Like a Turtle” or shark or Sting Ray but don’t be a predator, be a friend or something neutral that won’t scare them off.

2. Slow down

Its a long way down, slow down

You are freediving, time is of the essence. The less you work the more you achieve when holding your breath. Spend 2-3 times longer on the surface then you do on the bottom. When you are kicking down, as soon as you can freefall, do so. Save your energy your breath hold will increase.

3. Choose the Right Gear

Choose wisely and take care of your gear

Having the right pole spear makes a big difference. I prefer a 8-9 ft one that is fast and still has plenty of punch. The Carbon fiber ones on the market will all snap if you don’t take care of them and the aluminum ones will bend and the fiberglass are usually too short but all can be effective if you take the time to learn the advantages and disadvantages of whichever you own. Shooting Pelagics with a 3 prong fiberglass isn’t going to work and I can promise you will snap your carbon fiber one if you shoot a grouper that is heading into a hole and don’t stone him…

4. Shoot to Kill

She's deadly and beautiful. Great combo, Lucky for Bubba:) Nice Stone shot on a big Hogfish for Lisa

You don’t have the luxury of long shots or high powered guns so you are going to be up close and personal. Even with the best pole spears and with a hawaiian sling you aren’t going to be able to get any power or penetration over 10 feet away. On any fish, you need to be looking for a stone shot, in the head. Any fish over 10 lbs and you are going to have to be close, 4-6 feet for any luck at all, and anything over 25 lbs it has to be a shot to the head.
If you don’t stone your fish they are going to take off with your gear so choose your battles wisely and don’t take low percentage shots. If it is a big fish, let him run he will hole up or battle him right then and there and risk tear off or broken gear. Your choice it depends on the situation.

5. Be Realistic

Pelagics, midwater, strong and tough to stone, water deeper than you can freedive

Are you realistically going to be able to land a 25lb Permit in 100 ft of water with a Hawaiian sling or a Pole spear? I like to think big but even if you stone them their momentum is will likely carry them to the bottom with your gear and lose both.
Chose your shots.
If your max freedive depth is 50ft and you shoot 25 lb Mackerel as it swims by on the drop off from 60-100ft, you aren’t going to get him. Let him go.
If you are in 50 feet of water and shoot a grouper in a labyrinth of caves and all you can see is his tail when you shoot through a 2 inch hole and there is no other entrance within 10 feet you just lost both the fish, valuable time, and your gear.
Make smart shots. It takes time to land fish with a sling and pole spear and if you spend all your time chasing Cuberas and Freeswimming fish that never stop or tend to deeper water you are going to waste your day with nothing at the end to show for it except lost gear and frustration.
Dive as shallow as possible, shoot fish you can handle, and shoot to kill.

Remember! Bahamas Spearfishing tips
1. Blend in
2. Slow Down
3. choose the right gear
4. Shoot to Kill
5. Be realistic

Dive gear on this trip courtesy of Riffe International
Riffe Spearfishing gear
Mask (Naida amber lens)
Snorkel (Stable snorkel for towing behind boat)
New Riffe Composite Fins
Blue Cryptic Rashguard with hood (part of rashguard full body cover up)
8 ft Riffe Three Prong Pole Spear
6 ft 3 prong Pole spear (fiberglass)

Evening Glass out

For some reason I always seem to miss the FSDA Florida Spearfishing Freedive tournament held each year in Tarpon Springs.
I think for excuses I’ve blamed weather. Girls. Warm beds. Dirty Water. Small fish. Cold Water. Big fish somewhere else. Work etc etc. Girls is the only excuse that I ever thought was any good but those are the ones that get you in the most trouble and catch the most shit from my friends.
This year it worked out though and I listened to my cousin Blake Gaylord and Charter captain Ed Walker and teamed up with them to participate in the yearly tournament. We watched the weather the week before and I cursed the bad vis I was seeing and predicting black out conditions and that no one would show up and blah blah blah.
Preparing for the worst I packed my 5mm suit, three prong pole spear and 75 cm break down Riffe gun thinking I’d just make the most of the day and try out the new equipment.
Morning of the tourney found that I was wrong.
Thank god!
We had 9 teams of three and a good mix of new and old divers from around the state. After a shotgun start with Pit’s 38ft Intrepid leading the way with his triple 350 Yamaha’s throwing a roostertail way way way up ahead of us all, the rest of us followed as fast as we could but even running at 55 mph we were no where near catching him.
Fast or slow everyone had an equal chance this year with the species list reduced by taking Amberjack and Cobia off.
Now we had to concentrate on a solid stringer of good fish but couldn’t really hope for anything massive to even the score except the wild chance of a big King Mackerel to jump away from the pack.

On the menu were:
10 sheepshead
5 Mangrove Snapper
5 Hogfish
2 gag Grouper
5 spanish mackerel
2 king Mackerel
1 red grouper

By taking Cobia and Amberjack off the smaller boats were saved long runs trailing the bigger faster boats who could get to the best spots first and shoot those key fish. Now it would just be a solid days catch with as many species as possible to fill a 20 fish limit. Each fish counts one point per pound plus one point per fish with a maximum of 20 lbs for fish therefore a 20lb Grouper and a 100 lb Grouper would both count for only 21 points.

Cam at the start black at the ready

Arriving at the first spot we found good vis and cool water and not another boat in sight. We anchored up and within seconds the three of us were in the water and fish were on the stringer steadily for the next few hours. After shooting the first one with the gun I was restringing and fiddling with the stringer and float line and got frustrated and put the gun in the boat to give it a go with Three Prong Riffe Pole spear.
First dive a solid 6lb Sheepshead swims past at speed and I track him lining up the shot when he is only 5 feet away. It hits him in the head and his momentum carries him a few more feet as I swim forward to catch him. By the time I hit the surface he is already off the spear and on the stringer and 45 seconds later I’m ready to leave the surface again for another. This is the way to go!
Next five minutes found 2 more good sized sheepshead taken in similar fashion.
Meanwhile Blake and Ed are filling their stringers with Big Sheepshead and their grouper within the first two hours in the water!
On one dive I was cruising down and saw a 20lb Gag slipping through the rocks on his way out. I approached as non confrontational as possible and almost had him but at 7 feet away and a quartering shot I held back and surfaced to tell the other guys who had guns.
Next dive down I find two other gag grouper cruising and this time anticipate their path and am able to stone my biggest fish of the day from only 4 feet away! Stoked.
Ed and I found one good spot for a while and both managed to take 3 Spanish mackerel each mine with the pole spear (except for one) and he with the Euro taking the largest mackerel of the trip and tourney at a modest four lbs.

Cam heading for the grocery store

Blake, debating an upgrade in wetsuits

We hit a few more spots and were in need of snappers, hogfish, and another grouper so we made a move only a few miles away and hit pay dirt. The vis was in and out but Blake quickly had a few mean looking little hogs who despite their 3 lb actual sized fully believed with their dark snouts and markings they should have in the Middle Grounds shouldering other 20lber’s out of the way.
Watching Blake as we did one up and down working a ledge taking a Hog on almost every other dive. As he is coming to the surface with a nice hog at the end of the line I see him look to the right and instantly kick harder and try to bring his gun up as a 7 ft shark rushes up to him. The shark veers off and swims wide and he continues to bring the fish up as the shark streaks in again. I dive to intercept and the shark changes direction and comes straight up to me at speed and turns only a few feet away to continue his circling. Blake pulls the hogfish out of the water as the shark circles and with some convincing I get him to give it to me and stuff it in my wetsuit and continue down the ledge instead of losing the spot and heading back to the boat.
We continue for the next ten minutes taking 4 more hogs and don’t see the shark again and then move to another spot.
Ed and Blake have their 20 fish so Ed puts me on a “grouper” spot as they position to Anchor. First dive I shoot a legal gag and have him in my hands on the surface taking the shaft out. I was kind of in that zoned out mode where you forget everything around you when a movement underneath me instantly materializes into a 7 foot shark blasting up and into me and the fish. I always push to fight sharks for your fish and this time I had no choice but to toss it as the shark was already only a few feet away and coming so fast I thought sure he was about to take my hands and the fish.
As I tried to push the fish away it scared the shark and he turned on a dime and was so close his wake pushed me sideways through the water.
The guys got a good laugh at me wussing out with only a 7 ft shark but the aggressive little buggars seemed to hit almost every boat in the tournament so we weren’t the only ones who the tax collectors visited but like most we denied any requests for handouts.

last gag

We take an easy run back the dock and then see the blue bullet (Pit on the Intrepid) coming up from the horizon and despite Ed hammering the throttle down a bit further they pass us with ease and we are only able to catch up by running across the flats at 50+ and backing off only fifty yards behind the others.

At the dock all the boats are there and everyone is visiting and comparing catches and it looks like most everyone has about the same stringers.
I think my favorite part of tournaments is catching up with all the divers that are together and have shared a good day on the water. The vibe is good and everyone is stoked just to be there and everyone is catching up and giving each other flak from trips gone past.
We weigh our fish and there is a bit of a buzz that it is solid and the best so far.
Ed Blake and I were all only a few lbs difference so as a team we knew we had a chance and there was no one that really stood out. We worked together and during the day called each other over when we found a good spot and it paid off steadily shooting good fish hoping that we would get a monster but not throwing it all to luck.

Blake Gaylord and a big stringer at the weigh in

Weigh in complete Ritchie makes the announcements and Team Running with Scissors (Blake, Ed and Cameron) is on top by a good margin and I’ve taken 3rd place individual.
Stoked!!!
Thanks to all the guys that came out and making it a good fun tournament.
So many good and beginner divers alike shy away from tournaments after witnessing the craziness and unsportsmanlike attitudes that has infiltrated the sport in years past.
We all spearfish because we love it and tourneys are a way of having fun, getting everyone together, and testing our skills against our friends.
When guys cheat, trade fish, argue at weigh ins, make up lies about others in the tournament and get them disqualified, run to the Bahamas or shoot outside of the boundaries it takes away from the value that everyone gets from the sport.
This was a solid tournament with good quality divers, well run, fair, and fun.
I hope that the success of this one brings more divers next year!
Cameron

Final Results

#3. Cameron #2. Austin #1. Ritchie

Top 3 Shooters:
1st- 102.25 points Ritchie Zacker
2nd- 99.55 points Austin Burneo
3rd- 95.20 points Cameron Kirkconnell

Biggest Fish:
Austin Burneo-18.90lb Grouper

Teams:
1st- Running with Scissors- Ed. Walker-89.15, Blake. Gaylord-93.05, Cameron Kirkconnell-95.20 =277.40 points
2nd- Red Tide- Sasa. B-58.55, Ritchie. Z-102.25, Eric. G-85.40 = 246.20 points
3rd- TBSC Apollo Beach- Aaron. S-93.25, Bill. V-78.25, T.A. M-70.05 = 241.55 points
4th- Fintrepid- Pit. G-77.25, Jason. W-92.95, Ben. F-65.40 = 235.90 points
5th- E-Searider- Pat. B- 48.55, Chris. H-79.05, Austin. B-99.55 = 227.15 points
6th- Pescasub- Jose. S-62.30, Eric. S-80.55, Ciro. L-81.80 = 224.65 points
7th- Stinky Pinky- John. P-66.65, Conner. E-66.30, Bill. F-63.05 = 196.00 points
8th- Seals#1- David. S-62.55, Skip. L-64.80, Gary. D-60.10 = 187.45 points
9th- Scales- Bryan. A-57.55, Trey. S-72.00, Chris. G-35.15 = 164.70 points

First second and third place teams

The Aussie Police and their Most Wanted Speeder and his POS car

Because there are so many people travelling in Australia and it is such a gigantic country, it makes sense that you should purchase one of the cheap vehicles there for trips of more than a few weeks.   I’ve always rented a car or borrowed from friends while there but knowing that I was going to be spending the better part of 3 months there I decided in 2004 that I would go ahead and take the plunge and purchase a chariot that would take me to all the places I’d ever wanted to go and then some.

In past trips, I had been particularly fond of some of the SUVs there. I envisioned myself with a 4WD Mitsubishi Pajero (Trooper) tricked out with a Snorkel for fording deep rivers on the way to secret surf rendezvous and deep in the Bush.  Cruising in style and picking up ladies along the way.  Those Pipe dreams were quickly squashed though as soon as I opened up the Trader and realized that with a budget of $2000 AUD, some ugly vehicle (SUV) would be the only thing I could afford.

Whitetip Reefshark, not quite the Great Whites Brad was expecting

With 3 surfboards, 3 spear guns, all my dive gear, camera equipment, clothes, Eskie (Igloo Cooler) and countless other gear I was still going to need something big enough to get all my stuff into but more than likely not as tough and cool as a Land cruiser.  So I started looking at station wagons and vans.  In NZ, all the surfers drive station wagons and everyone thinks they are pretty cool.   In the states, you look like a soccer mom. (Not that there is anything wrong with that.  Thank you mom for driving me all those years But when you are 27 years old its tough to get away with and pull the fairer sex.   Vans were my other choice but they were the hardest by far to find since every other feral European backpacker seemed to be looking for one as well.

After a week of looking at the absolute worst vehicles imaginable, I was beginning to lose hope.  Every one I looked at was a fright, missing headlight, no door,  only one window that would roll down,  Spider Farm, 10 year old tires, it was looking pretty bleak.  Then as if in answer to my prayers appeared the Corona.

The $1200 For Sale sign caught my eye as she passed by me in traffic.  I quickly pulled a U-ey and caught up with her as she pulled into what would be her former home.  A quick test drive and $1100 AUD cash and she was mine. And I was instantly in love.

I drove her home proudly showing her off for all to see and reveled in the fact that she had some of the core qualities of other women in my past. At first glance she was clean, cool,  young(relatively that is 1984), fast(130 kph), had plenty of booty(boot is Aussie for trunk), and as we would find out later wasn’t afraid to get a little rough and dirty or pound some drinks.

After a few days of driving around Sydney, Brad Thornbrough and I set off on our adventure with my girl stacked to nines with gear and booze and ready for action.   Within an hour of getting on the highway we started to get to know our girl a little better.   Seems she not only liked her drinks, since we had to put a quart of oil in every few hours, but she could also shake her booty with the best of them.  Not knowing cars, I couldn’t say exactly what the problem was, but I do know that when you push the gas pedal or release it, the car is not supposed to seem to realign itself on its chassis each time.   But,as they say in Australia, no worries.  The AC that I was so proud of was the first thing to go as it just gave up and began exchanging the hot air from inside the car with that of the engine compartment.

With no major disasters though we arrived at the small beach town of Crescent head in NSW which is the home of some of my favorite waves on the entire coast.   With a few hours of light remaining, we left the main town and navigated the dirt road that would lead us to  Brads first Austrlaian Surf session at a secluded break just 10 k’s distant.   This road runs along the swamp land and is graded “every couple of months” as our local friend and certified Wildman Simon Latta informed us.  It hadn’t rained in a while so the road was in good shape and we made 80 Kilometers per hour and were in the water in no time.

A few hours of trading good waves washed away the dirt and stiffness of the long drive and with the sun setting we celebrated our good fortune with a  cold Victoria Bitter and headed back to town to set up our campsite for the night.

Laughing and talking about the prospect of seeing a Kangaroo on the way back we cruised along the dirt road at a safe speed  until it changed into asphalt again and I was able to pick up speed.  With thick brush on either side we were only afforded a milleseconds glimpse of a brown shape before a thump and crunch was heard as a Kanga commited suicide on the front left side of the vehicle. “Whoa!  Did you see that!”

It happened so fast that there was no way to avoid the animal and even if there had been it would have resulted in us going off the road and hitting a tree.   We stepped out to survey the damage and found that the front left side was crushed in and under, the headlight was smashed,  under the hood the battery had broken loose from its mounts,  the grill was pushed in and the Kanga was a complete and total loss.   It was the equivalent of hitting a furry rock for the amount of damage it did to the Corona.

As we’re standing there in the road in the middle of no-where,  a car full of Aborigine’s pulls up and says,”You goys’ awlright?”  Yeah we’re fine but the Kanga has seen better days.  “Mate, you got some good meat on her. Should take those hind legs for the barbie.”   Yeah that’s a good idea, Thanks.

Despite the stellar advice from the thoroughly intoxicated Abo’s we decided against adding to the destruction of the Cerveza that would surely result by throwing a bleeding carcass in the back seat and instead cleared the road to continue on our way.

Cameron and Simon Latta trying to fix the Kanga Damage

My girl was beaten up a bit but the damaged only seemed to be skin deep. And there is so much more to a relationship than looks right?   Brad reminded me  of that fact the very next morning as I backed my girl over the water spicket in our campsite crushing yet another panel and the passenger door therefore modifying her even more.   Dumbass.  The door still opened but it now made a hellacious creaking sound and took away from her over all astetics.

The night of the Kanga it started raining and it didn’t stop for the next week and a half.  Back-tracking to the scene of the crime and then past, we discovered that our smooth dirt road had turned in to a continuous series of potholes, rocks and mud.   Where we had done 80 k’s the night before we now bounced along at 25 and it still felt like we were Off-Roading.  We had no business in our vehicle on that road but I’ll be damned if we didn’t give it our best effort and as the days went by and we figured out where the biggest pot holes were, our speed increased and our lack of regard for the vehicles well being plumeted.  Twice a day back and forth we sped, blowing past 4WD vehicles picking their way carefully along the dirt road and scoffing at their babying their machines that were better fitted for the task at hand than our own.

And then our girl started to get angry.  There was a Surf School in town and having made friends with the instructors and some of the sexy young students were invited to join them for dinner our last night in town.   Enroute to our date the Corona must have caught wind of our intentions and showed her disgust with us by sputtering and gliding to a stop right at twilight in the most mosquito infested section of the road way out in the middle of the bush.  Brad was quickly under the hood but despite his jiggling of wires and cleaning of the fuel filter she made not a sound for 30 minutes.  Temper tantrum over, she started up like nothing had ever happened and the remainder of the evening we let her rest while we (unsuccessfully) chased around sunburned hotties who thought the world of us after we delivered a cooler full of fresh fish and lobster for the feast.

Hung over or still half drunk at 0500 the next morning we crawled back to the Corona on our way North to meet some friends for a dive 200 Km’s away.   Back on the open road once again it felt good to smash the pedal down and we laughed once again at the booty shake and as we became more cognoscente we started to notice some new quirks as well.  With the exception of a muscle car or Harley, no vehicle has any business making as much noise as we seemed to be now.  The roar that resulted from the pushing of the accelerator quickly overcame that noise of something rattling underneath us that could only mean that there was something significantly wrong with the Muffler, if it was there at all.
So what do we do about it?  Nothing.  Drive on, go diving and we’ll worry about it some other time.

The Corona. Notice the bottle on the front

That some other time turned out to be the very next day as we attempted to climb the hill to Simon’s house back in Crescent Head.  As she sputtered 50 meters short of our destination I spun her around to face down hill in hopes of keeping the gas flow going to the engine and possibly saving her from passing out on us again.  No luck. I glided to a stop in the shade of a big Gum Tree and let her sleep it off while Brad and I both tinkered with whatever we could think of underneath the hood to get her going again.  As before it didn’t seem to matter what we did and she just decided after 45 minutes or so that she was ready to go again and fired right back up.  Whatever.  The next couple days proved that she didn’t like hills so we avoided them at all costs.  Since we were now staying at Simons, we would navigate our way up the hill at short increments like stairs one block at a time until we were on the same level as his house.  It was a longer route but it seemed to prolong her daily run and prevented her from passing out before we did, a role reversal that neither Brad and I were comfortable or had experience with.

A week later and she was still dying on us every so often and we were convinced that it was a fuel problem.   We decided we could live with it.   By now it was nearing a month since I had bought the car though and in order to keep the Transportation Authority off my back I had to reregister the car before the 30 days was up or I would have to go through a big to-do in order to get the title switched over.   So we headed north again to Coffs Harbor and Civilization.

Once there we checked in to the Hoey Moey, our little Hotel on the beach and then headed off to the RTA to do the paperwork.  After getting there we waited in line for a half hour before being told we needed our passports to register it.  Back out to the car we go again and head back to the hotel only to have her sputter and die again only a K down the road.  We tinkered around under the hood unsuccessfully as usual, until a feral Aussie Bum came over and offered to help. Not wanting to risk saying something to my girl that I would regret later, I told Brad I was going for a walk and took off before I lost it completely.  So now we were so helpless that a Bum was going to work on our car!?

Returning I found the engine purring and the bearded vagabond elbow deep in grease and oil telling Brad how to keep her running smooth.  Amazing!  I offered the drinks in my hands to him and he said, “No Worries Mate, you don’t owe me nuthin.”   Typical Aussie hospitality, even if you live on the streets.  I dropped Brad off at the Hotel and headed back to the RTA and she died again on the way.  Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!  With the temp near 100 degrees now I walked down the road and bought a $2 six-in one screwdriver that we would from henceforth refer to as “the tool kit”.  I called Bazza and within 30 minutes I had taken everything apart that I could think of with no success. He hitched a ride and true to form she cranked up as soon as he was in sight.  By now though the RTA was closed and the only thing I wanted to do was get the hell away from this damn car.

Happy that she was running but a bit wary as to her life expectancy we decided finally to give in and take her to the mechanic to see if he could figure out what was wrong with her.  They looked her over and an hour later told us that they couldn’t find anything wrong but cleaned the fuel pump and said try it as is. And she was, in a sense.  $150 and a new fuel pump and a little cleaning of the fuel lines and they said she should be good to go.   Excellent.   We hopped back in and a few blocks later were parked in front of the RTA again. 30 minutes later the paperwork was done and the Corona was officially in my name.

And then the obvious happened.  We turn the key and nothing.  C’mon.  Again. Nothing.  Ahhhhhhhh!!!  Damn this car!  To make matters worse, every single person that walked into the building had to walk right past us and every comment just added to our embarrassment.

I called the garage and told them to come get the car but they wouldn’t do it because they said their truck was away and we’d have to get another company to do it.  8 blocks away.  We would have pushed it but there was no way I was going to embarrass myself more in this small town by doing that.   A redneck tow was offered by some teenage White trash wanna-b hip-hop gangsta kids but then we found out that they in fact, didn’t even know anyone that had a car to do it, so that was out as well.  An hour later I was so frustrated I called a tow truck and forked of the most painful and pointless $100 of the trip so far to have him pick it up and take it not even 5 minutes away. Even now it makes me so angry to have had to do that.

‘Whatever you did didn’t work.’  I say to the mechanics.  “Ok leave it with us and you can pick it up in the morning.” After plying them with a few more beers they said they’d do what they could to make her road worthy and told us to sell it as soon as we got a chance.   We left it over night and slept well knowing she would be all better in the morning.

What was wrong with it?  A lot, apparently.  “How much do you want to spend?”  The mechanic asked me over the phone.  “The carburetor is screwed, as is the fuel pump, fuel filter, and most of your electrical lines and connections.  The Muffler has been abused something fierce and needs some repairs, that loud noise is because of a hole it has in it.  Mate, that wiggle when you use the accelerator is not from the alignment being off, she’s real f-ed up.  That’s the universal axle or the bearings deteriorated so much that she’s losing it. She ain’t  Road Worthy.”  Just make it so she’ll run and keep it as cheap as possible.

There was a little drinking involved that night.  OK, a lot.  This damn car was driving me insane and I just wanted it to run.   We decided the next morning to push up to Byron Bay to chase this girl that Bazza had met after we picked the car up and planned on selling the car once there.   We picked the POS up and packed all of our stuff in for the trip North feeling confident that the $150 we’d just invested in it would be sufficient to get us the 3 hours North to Byron and Freedom from this machine. Home free….

coffs harbor dolphin

Or so we thought. Once back on the open road, my foot found the gas pedal and we were passing cars and cruising at 130kph in no time.   And then we got pulled over.  Dammit!  The policeman was driving in the opposite direction and flashed his lights at us before spinning around and pulling in behind us.  Bazza and I just started laughing.  What luck we have.

He took my information and when he came back I asked him what seemed to be the problem.

“Please step out of the vehicle.”

“Besides the fact that it looks like you’ve been using it as a 4WD in the bush and is dirty and dented.  Your taillights are out, as are your blinkers and left headlight.  You’re going 20 k’s over the limit, you have no rear view because of all the stuff in your car and it sounds like your muffler is damaged.”

“This car is a POS.” Yes sir I know.

I gave him the spiel about us making a movie and how we had hit a kanga the night before and it must of done the electrical in.  Him, I, and Bazza laughed our asses off at how bad of shape the car was in and we talked about diving and surfing.  He said he’d write us a ticket for just the Blinker being out but we had to promise to stop and fix everything at the next Petrol station.  All the while Bazza is filming and taking pictures as I stand beside our battered car and have this cop telling me that I don’t have to pay the ticket if I don’t want to.  “If you are thinking about coming back to Oz to live I’d pay it but if not I’d just throw it in your photo album for a good laugh later.”  Priceless.  That is the first and last time I ever expect to hear that from a policeman anywhere in the world.

Cam Mulloway Brad Yellowtail Kingies

(As luck would have it that is the only ticket I didn’t pay of the 8 or so I received from speed cameras and will no doubt be the one that screws me when I try and come back. Handcuffs at the airport anyone?)

WE kept our word and Bazza fixed the lights at the next gas station and we were back on the road again, recharged knowing that lightning rarely strikes in the same place twice so we figured we had paid our dues for the car that day already.

“You hear that?” Bazza asks me.

Hear what?

“That clicking noise.  That’s a new sound.”

Where’s it coming from?

“Sounds like from the engine.  See! It gets louder every time you step on the gas.”

What do you think it is?

“I don’t know but I can tell you its not good and it sounds like its getting worse.”

At this point we were about 20 K’s short of the turnoff for Yamba and in the middle of nowhere.  (Not that Yamba is really anywhere either.  It’s a town of about 6000 if that.)  There are no Servo’s (Service Stations) until then so we have no choice but to keep going.

With the temperature gauge rising Bazza leans out the window filming and wetting himself he is laughing so hard because the “tink, tink, tink, tink” sound has grown steadily louder and is now “clank, clank, clank.”

Moving over to the slow lane the noise increases to the point where we are both laughing so hard I can barely steer.  Really now what the hell could this be!  We reach the Exit and have to make a decision whether or not to gamble and go the 18 k’s to Yamba(which actually has surf and things to do) or take the safe route and go left to Maclean (town of 1200) which is only 4 K’s distant.   The choice is easy.  We go left.

There was no reason to call ahead, the entire town knew we were coming and why we were here.

200 meters ahead of us people were whipping their heads around at the god awful sound of our approach.  There was no hiding our shame so we embraced it.  Brad waved to the towns people like I was escorting him to Homecoming but the shouts of encouragement (or so we’d like to think) could not be heard over the now deafening sound emitting from underneath our hood.  Little kids were covering their ears and pointing as it now sounded like someone was hitting the engine block with a sledgehammer every half a second.

So it was with great surprise that before we even came around the corner to the service station the three mechanics started walking outside and laughing at us.

“She’s fucked Mate!”

Tell us something we don’t know.

“No Mate. She’s really fucked.  Go ahead and get your gear out she needs a new engine before she’ll run again.  That sound you hear, that is the bearing at the bottom of the engine that has dropped out and it’s banging around inside the block.  There is no fixing this one. “

OK. It’s beer o’clock.  Thank goodness for the eskie.  We cracked a few beers and tried to get as much info out of the mechanics as possible about the chances of getting on our way again.   They freely accepted the beers but there was no getting around the fact that it was time for me to part ways with the Corona and we set forth to find a new chariot to take us on more adventures through the country. As luck would have it, our new chariot was closer than we thought and the sight of the purple curtains and the column stick shift did little to deter us from claiming our prize and heading off into the sunset in record time.  The Toyota Lite Ace (a mini van of microscopic proportions) was to be our new home and with no time to lose we put her back on the open road barely hearing the mechanic say to keep her under 90 kph. Or did he say it at all?  Anyway we were back on the road and out of Maclean and… overheating and broken down on the side of the road 10 minutes later.

Stripped of our new car we were forced to wait out  repairs before we could get on the road again.  That night we slept in a room above the most raucous, and possibly only, bar in the town of Maclean and being the only Americans trapped there in the history of this Scottish Australian  town, you can only imagine how well we fit in… but that’s another story.

The floppy eared devil

Why you need an Official Scale. World Record Dogtooth Tuna

Yesterday I was moved to tears by the most incredible fish i have ever seen in my life. 
Diving in Indonesia is one of the most frustrating and difficult projects I have ever embarked on and without an amazing amount of patience, stamina and skill there is no way that you can be successful in a diving environment such as this.
Starting the day we jumped in to a mere 4 knots of current and drifted for 4 hours landed two Dogtooth tuna 40 and 100 lbs which are both excellent fish in any locale. 
Taking a break during the day we went and visited a deserted beach on a faraway shore and as we explored teh little spit of sand and the surrounding countryside Craig and I gave thanks for such a beautiful and unspoiled place on earth that we were able to enjoy.
With the two fish in the boat and our time expired we decided to head back to the mainland 2 hours away. Something in me felt wrong though and I persuaded the boat driver to stay another hour ($15 more) so that we could dive in the ever increasing current for one last shot. 
With a rain squall coming hard on us and the visibility darkening we decided on one last drift. Craig had just broken one blade on his fin and told me, “This is the last drift, make it count, I’ll ride shotgun and bring the second gun so you can shoot your fish twice…”
5 minutes later i was relaxed and diving down through the warm surface layer to the cooler water below relishing the change in temperature that these type of Tuna love so much. At 50 feet i stopped kicking and glided down to find a school of dogtooth tuna surrounding me from 15 to 120 lbs. Patiently i glided deeper and caught sight of the black back of a slightly bigger one on the bottom at 90 feet. Passing the other smaller tuna the big fish turned slightly just as i reached the end of my float line and i squeezed the trigger.
Thunk!
The fish immediately shook his gills and then made two circles on the bottom banging the shaft against the coral in an attempt to break free of the object now lodged in his after half. 
As the great fish strained for deep water i pushed hard for sunlight and grabbed my passing floats on the surface just in time to tell Craig, ” I shot a TOAD!!!!”
Nervous the the fish would pull out i fought him as gingerly as possible and within a few minutes we had him in sight. As he neared the surface I could see he was hurt bad but there was no way i was going to lose this fish and I grabbed my 115 Omer America with a reel from Craig, cocked it, dove and approached him. At 12 feet my lungs were screaming for air at the exertion of the last few minutes and I prayed that my shaking hands would aim true.. whoosh! The fish went stiff and i surfaced pulling the ever growing fish to me.
Oh my god. Oh my god.
I can’t wrap my arms around him! I have never screamed so loud in my life. The rocky cliffs a mile distant reverberated with the sound of my voice and then mingled with that of Craigs and the boat driver. 
With a raging 10 kt current approaching I handed the tail of the fish to the boat driver and jumped in the boat to relieve him but even with Craig and I pulling we could not budge the fish from the water. Trailing the fish to calm waters the three of us pulled the beast into the boat and then there was complete silence.
Looking at the 6 ft long fish at my feet my mind shut down and I was flooded with emotion at what I had before me. Never in my life could i have imagined this possible. Craig and I stared in utter silent disbelief. 
Dogtooth Tuna. What I have always preached as the most challenging and difficult fish in the world to land. Diving 30 miles from civilization in 6-10 kts of current. The whitewater rafting we had done the week before doesn’t even compare to the whirlpools and down currents and 5 ft standing waves we encounter every drift here. 
I can’t describe to you how incredible this day is and how meaningful it is to me. Of all the fish in the world this is the one record i have coveted the most. 
200.6 lbs. 6 feet long and 4.5 feet in girth.
I am the luckiest man alive. 
Cameron

VIDEO:

World Record Dogtooth Tuna on boat

Craig Clasen Enormous Dinosaur of a Tuna and Cameron Kirkconnell

Craig and Solid Doggie over 100lbs and the Porpoise looking 201lb WR

Without the fin up that distinguishes a Warsaw it looks like any other grouper

Fresh off the trip to Micronesia I was straight back into job hunting trying to find a ship job amidst all this foolishness with the American Ship Captain being held hostage on his own lifeboat off the coast of Somalia.

Having just returned from the same area and not seeing any action taken by the US in a few days was less than encouraging and I have no desire to go back to that area of the world.

Got a line on a good job opportunity through a company in Texas and flew out there to interview.

Within the first thirty minutes of the 2 day interview process they told me I was there man and now, (despite having my unlimited tonnage Captains license for that past 4 years) and officially Captain Cameron Kirkconnell and will be in command of a 600 ft ship that operates off the coast of South America.  I am beside myself excited about it as the job is a good one and I’ve been working hard to find something good in our crumbling Merchant Marine fleet.

Job in hand I got on the phone and started hustling for  a dive trip.

Luckily Keith Love (Texas Bluewater Assassins) and Jeff from Maximum Scuba took pity on me and we met up early the next morning to head offshore into solid 4-6 ft seas.  

I could have cared less and was happy just to be on the water and celebrate.   With hopes of making it way out we were resigned to stay in shallow and swarmed by dozens of Red Snappers who luckily for them are still out of season.  

Keith Love with a bigger Warsaw from the depths

Keith had said the chance for a Warsaw was good and I did my best to relax in the heaving seas and bit of current to make some deep dives. 

After 15 dives to 75 ft or more I self proclaimed myself as the Snapper Whisperer as the entire school would meet me at 30 feet and follow me down to the lower parts of the rig like lost puppies.  Every movement I made was under close scrutiny and I wish I had a camera to record the 25 lb snapper literally 2 feet from the front of my mask and some smaller ones close enough to touch.  

It was painful but amazing and I learned a lot about Red Snapper’s habits and what movements and other tricks kept them coming in and pretty much committing suicide.   

Off to the next rig Jeff and Keith gave me a good hour in the water to try again before they headed down on Scuba and I started the process of diving to depth at all of the most productive spots of the rig.  (Incidentally this was a rig that I had dove 4 years prior and remembered the structure and irregularities that hold fish having seen it in clear blue water)

After working the entire rig with nothing but a small Permit to show for it I made a dive out wide in hopes of shooting a big cobia or Mackerel that would be circling.  Resting in the hazy green void at 70 ft I waited and was surrounded by my loyal Snappers and Blue Runners as usual.  

Looking down into the darkness towards the end of the dive I could barely make out the shape of something else that was strangely still and out of place from the swirling cauldron of Red and Blue surrounding me.   

I coasted down and my hopes soared as the form took the shape of a decent sized Grouper and I pulled the trigger of my Riffe 130 Euro hitting him squarely in the top of the head.  

Ready for a war I was let down that the fish simply rolled over and I pulled him easily to the surface and rejoiced in my first Warsaw Grouper while Freediving.  

The feat of shooting them is nothing extraordinary. It is finding them that is the difficult part as this species spends the majority of its time at depths of 500 ft and greater.   As far as we can tell in North America only a handful of these fish have been shot freediving and most have been flukes.  We have been targeting them for a few years in Louisiana without success and on the East Coast of Florida as well and while chances are good we will get one eventually I have to give most credit to Keith for putting me on them and giving me the opportunity to dive first before they went down on tanks.

GEAR:

Riffe Euro 130′s with Horizontal Reel for all three guys rigged with 9/32″ hawaiian flopper shafts.

3mm Green Cryptic Suit (Green winter water and water temp 69 degrees), Riffe Stable snorkel for the rough seas to keep it clear of water,  Amber lens Naida mask for the crappy visibility to pic out the details and brighten up the overcast day.

NOTE:

As far as I know the only people to shoot Warsaws freediving: Jason Wentmore’s buddy off the East coast in 30′ of water!   Chad Palan in South Florida.  Keith Love’s friend in Texas and unconfirmed reports in Brazil. That is a pretty small group.

Physical description:

The warsaw grouper is the only member of the genus Epinephelous that has 10 dorsal spines, the second of which is much longer than the third. The color is a grayish brown to dark reddish-brown background with numerous small, irregular white blotches on the sides. The color appears much lighter around the nape and along the posterior margin of the operculum. All of the fins are dark brown, except the white-splotched spiny portion of the dorsal fin.

Biological description:

The warsaw grouper has a wider distribution along the southern United States than the other large grouper, the goliath grouper ( E. itajara). Warsaw range from North Carolina to the Florida Keys and throughout much of the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico to the northern coast of South America. The species inhabits irregular bottom, notches, valleys, and drop-offs, occuring in the continental shelf break in waters 350 to 650 feet deep. Other species inhabiting this productive deep-water zone are snowy and yellowedge groupers, tilefish, and silk snappers. Warsaw are long-lived, reaching up to 6 feet and over 300 pounds. The warsaw’s huge mouth enables it to engulf prey whole after capturing it.