Beneath the waves of the ocean's surface lies a quiet and mysterious world. This lonely place is disturbed only occasionally by the sound of a passing boat engine, a singing humpback whale or some other solitary marine creature. Us fishermen really have no idea what may be swimming beneath the hulls of our boats. My most recent fishing trip reminded me of this very fact.

I was fishing with Jason Mazzola, a long time friend and fishing buddy of mine, as well as my Dad, Jake Collins. Recently getting all three of us together for a fishing trip had become a bit of a challenge. Life responsibilities and events often get in the way of fishing. I have observed this to be even more true as I age, and I am sure you can relate.

Yet for the time being my buddy, Dad and I were cruising in the darkness, against a bit of a chop, which jolted us awake with each pounding of the bow. I checked my phone in between waves for the time and noticed that it was already 4:30AM. At this hour two months ago the eastern skyline would be bright with the false dawn. Yet today the sky was still pitch black. Late summer on Cape Cod had most certainly arrived.

Finally, at around 5:30AM, the sky began to brighten.

Our stretch goal was to hook a giant tuna. The week prior I had received promising tuna reports, coming from areas not often thought of to hold giant tuna. The fish had been spotted by friends of mine, slashing bluefish on the surface. The odds were against us for a giant tuna, but sometimes just having a hook in the water is all it takes.

A more realistic encounter would be with a large blue shark. Last season blue sharks inundated the inshore waters of Cape Cod, and I was curious to see if the same phenomena would happen again this year. However the first step, as is commonly the case, was to find and catch live bluefish for bait.

Making Bait

Our run brought us 12 miles through the dark to what I would refer to as a well known bluefish hot spot, which we'll talk more about in the extended fishing report. With little life showing on the sonar I wondered if we had made the right call. Spending time fishing for bait can be painstaking. I could tell that everyone on board wanted to make bait fast, yet the bluefish abide by their own rules. It became apparent that we were going to have to grind it out.

Finally after much trolling, the starboard side rod bent over and began shaking. This was thankfully no bass, yet I treated the bluefish as if it were gold. My knees buckled with each jump and head shake. I could feel my heart beating in my chest as I repeated "please stay on, please stay on" silently to myself. Each bluefish is precious potential bait in these types of situations.

The blue was just yards away now, and I could see the hook in the corner of his jaw. Bluefish have a tendency to pop off the hook just as they arrive at the boat. I bent with the small fish as he darted to the left and to the right, doing everything I could to ensure his one way ticket to the bait tank.

Finally I flipped him into the boat, removed the hook and placed the small chomper into the live well. Mission accomplished - we had our first live bait.

The second live bluefish would come almost an hour later. It was a slow pick but we had two of the best baits in the business in our bait tank. Bluefish work exceptionally well on both giant tuna and sharks. Apex predators can't seem to resist the oily composition of these yellow eyed devils.

The Wait

The cruise to our fishing destination was uneventful, which was fine by me. As long as we get out and return safely I am happy. Picking up a fish or two is always just a bonus.

Yet I felt as if time was of the essence. We had spent dawn and the best part of the morning tracking down bait. Ideally it would of been best to have had baits in the water just after sunrise, yet as mentioned above, fish abide by their own rules. There was no sense in pondering the what ifs and living in hindsight. We worked together deploying the drift sock, setting the kite and deploying balloon baits.

Once settled with the kite flying high in the sky, the drift sock doing its job and the balloons drifting properly, I decided to sit still for a moment. Oftentimes I am preoccupied with finding fish, rigging lines, tying hooks and making sure the bait stays alive that I must consciously decide to take a break. With everything operating smoothly, and Mazzola keeping a close eye on the lines, I opened up a sandwich and sat down.

A few minutes later and I was nearly asleep. Excitement and anticipation had kept me awake the night prior. Despite my best efforts to fall asleep I had only managed to snag 3 hours. My eyelids felt as if they weighed 25 pounds a piece, and my head began to fall forward, until I gradually slid off into a dream.

POP!

I swear I felt the sound in my bones. For an instant I remained asleep, yet I knew I needed to open my eyes. Something violent and sudden had just occurred within an arm's length of my napping location.

The snapping-pop noise had jerked me back into consciousness, and my eyes shot open. I stood up at the same moment my father turned and Mazzola yelled "We're on!"

The noise which had awoken me from my sleep was the elastic snapping on the starboard side 130. I turned towards the rod just in time to see it take a dip towards the surface of the ocean. It was the kite bait, and something large had just eaten it.

We scrambled to clear lines, unsure whether this was a giant tuna or one of the large sharks we figured may be roaming this close-to-shore area, no more than 2.5 miles from the beach.