Republished by permission from The Florida Times Union, Jacksonville, Florida.
June 26, 1994
By Joe Julavits
Outdoors Editor
Florida Times Union
The book on tarpon is, you get one jump -- if you're lucky enough to hook up at all – and then the fish typically spits out your offering and says adios. But not all tarpon read the book. Take the fish Ron Brooks and his son Tom tangled with last Saturday at the end of the south jetties at Mayport, Florida. Fishing out of their l6-foot skiff, the Brookses were catching redfish, sheepshead and drum -- and watching the sky blacken as a thunderstorm approached. Before running from the oncoming weather, Ron decided to put one more bait out on the bass rod he was using. He cut a blue crab in half, impaled it on a 2/0 hook and sent it down.
"It never hit the bottom," said Ron, who works and lives in Jacksonville.
The l7-pound test line began spooling off the reel, and then a fish -- a tarpon estimated at between 75-100 pounds -- broke the surface and jumped a distance away from the boat. There was still a large bow in Brooks' line.
"I wasn't sure it was my fish because I hadn't caught up with him yet with the reel," Brooks said.
Then the tarpon sounded and began toying with the bass rod.
"He could go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted," Brooks said.
Twice the tarpon went around the 1/2-inch nylon anchor rope, threatening to sever the monofilament. As his son pulled up the anchor rope to where the fishing line crossed it, Ron would get down on his knees and pass the bent rod from one hand to the other to clear the line. Ron handed off the rod to Tom, and, after he worked the fish close to the boat, it made another run, again wrapping around the anchor line. Amazingly, they were able to clear the line again. All the while, the storm seas at the rocks were building.
"People around us were saying we should get out of there," Ron said. "We were on our knees at the end because the swells were so bad we couldn't stand up and fight the fish."
Finally, the tarpon was at boatside, where Ron plucked a scale from it, removed the hook with surprising ease and watched the mighty fish swim off. Later, Ron examined the 17-pound Stren line and found it frayed for much of its length from the fight and the rubbing against the anchor rope.
"I don't understand why it never broke," he said. "I've caught a lot of tarpon in South Florida, and if you hook one, you're lucky to get more than one jump out of him. But this one, we couldn't get rid of him. He was a suicide fish."
