{"id":8841,"date":"2023-01-10T00:00:42","date_gmt":"2023-01-10T04:00:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.tailflyfishing.com\/?p=8841"},"modified":"2023-01-10T12:42:39","modified_gmt":"2023-01-10T16:42:39","slug":"guides-life-captain-scott-hamilton","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.tailflyfishing.com\/guides-life-captain-scott-hamilton\/","title":{"rendered":"A Guide\u2019s Life by Captain Scott Hamilton"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cTime is a beast, devouring all, insatiable. . . .\u201d<\/span><\/h2>\n

That pretty much sums up a captain\u2019s life, but I wouldn\u2019t trade my guiding experiences for anything. You never know what\u2019s going to happen on any given day out on the water; each day truly is unique. Below are a few entertaining nuggets from my decades on the water. Enjoy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"saltwaterIf it can go wrong. . . .<\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n

I had a client who expressed a desire to catch a dolphin (aka mahi-mahi and dorado), preferably a large one, on a fly. Normally, when a client makes such a request, I counsel him as to what time of year would offer the best chance for success. But since this request was made on the morning of the trip, during a time of year when finding a large dolphin was somewhat doubtful, I resigned myself to trying my best to pull off this unlikely feat. After a quick glance at his equipment, my client\u2019s 10-weight rod and reel combo looked up to the task. In retrospect, a closer exam would have been wise, and you\u2019ll see why.<\/span><\/p>\n

Chum bait was nonexistent that day, so besides throwing hookless teasers on a spinning rod, my only option was to cruise around searching for floating weeds and try to find fish hiding under them. We made our way out several miles offshore and started the search for the debris and weeds that often hold fish. There was very little in the way of such material, but we continued our search.<\/span><\/p>\n

Finally, we saw a beautiful log, several meters long, covered in barnacles and surrounded by weeds\u2014the very picture of perfect dolphin habitat. Quietly approaching and scanning the area for movement, I saw nothing. My heart sank, because if this beautiful piece of real estate wasn\u2019t holding fish, it was unlikely anything else would be.<\/span><\/p>\n

I readied the client, explaining that he needed to be prepared to cast at a moment\u2019s notice as I started working the area around the log with a teaser plug. Teaser plugs are great in place of chum bait. The fish immediately comes in hot and ready to eat, and it can generate some spectacular strikes. But alas, no fish appeared after a couple casts. I took a few steps over to the console to look at the depth finder, hoping it would tell me that there were fish holding down deep. My client asked if he could take a few casts. Not expecting it to do any good, I told him to have at it and continued to scan the depth finder.<\/span><\/p>\n

That\u2019s when several things happened in quick succession. The client dropped a cast about 50 feet out and immediately exclaimed, \u201cHoly crap!\u201d Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a large shape streak out from directly under the boat, heading straight for the fly. Faster than it can be told, what I estimated to be at least a 50-pound dolphin crushed the fly at about 25 mph, felt the hook, and hit the afterburners, leaving straight away at what seemed like 50 mph.<\/span><\/p>\n

As the client was desperately trying to clear the slack, a perfect half-hitch was formed around the reel, with no chance of untangling it. When the full weight and speed of the dolphin came to bear, the reel broke off from the reel foot, and still tangled, came up against the first stripping guide. In a split second, that stripping guide was ripped off the rod, and the reel came up against the second stripping guide with the same result. Now, the reel came up against the first snake guide on the top section of the two-piece rod and the forces at play pulled the two sections apart. The whole mess\u2014reel, tangle, and ripped-off stripping guides, went sailing <\/span>into the ocean. For several seconds, in utter silence, the compilation of gear was plainly visible as the dolphin towed it out of sight, jumping enthusiastically as it went.<\/span><\/p>\n

The client, standing there holding just the butt section of his ruined rod, turned to me and said, <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat was GREAT!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Given that I had never experienced any kind of equipment malfunction close to this, I had to investigate the cause. Upon closer examination, the screws that had been holding the reel body to the reel foot were so corroded that I could turn them to powder between my fingers. And judging from the rusted stumps where the stripping guides once were, this rod may have never been rinsed off after saltwater exposure. The client confirmed this, saying he thought rinsing was a waste of time. He also confirmed that he had been using a straight piece of 50-pound leader material, because he \u201cdidn\u2019t want to chance losing any fish.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\"saltwaterYou never know what you\u2019ll see out there.<\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n

One winter I took two clients out for spinner sharks. These clients were experienced saltwater anglers but had never fished for spinners. After setting off, I gave them the rundown on what to expect. Among other things, I described the free-jumping that the spinners do on a regular, and at times constant, basis. In the 60- to 100-pound range, they explode out of the water, spinning lengthwise. Sometimes they spin so fast that it\u2019s hard to focus on them. It\u2019s a pretty large animal and pretty spectacular to watch.<\/span><\/p>\n

Arriving at the area where I knew there to be sharks, I got busy down on the deck preparing the chum needed to bring the sharks within casting range. As I had my head down, both of these<\/span><\/p>\n

gentlemen abruptly exclaimed, \u201cGood god! Did you see that?! What the hell was<\/i> that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did it look like?\u201d I asked, without raising my head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSomething huge just came flying out of the water right there!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that\u2019s a spinner shark,\u201d I replied, slightly chuckling. \u201cThat\u2019s what we are here to fish for.\u201d I turned my head in the direction they were pointing just in time to see a gray whale approximately 40 feet in length reenact the Pacific Life commercial with a full-body vertical launch; it breached not 100 feet off the side of the boat. The spray from its splash almost reached us; it was that close.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, that is not<\/i> a spinner shark, and we\u2019re not fishing for it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Gray whales are not common in my area at all. I may see only one each year, so this was a real treat. The massive creature put on quite a show for us for over an hour, breaching regularly and <\/span>performing a maneuver I still can\u2019t really explain the purpose of. In 30 feet of water, this thing would go vertical, stick its nose in the sand, get its tail about 10 feet in the air, and go back and<\/span><\/p>\n

forth, slapping the water with concussive sounds. It would stay in this position for a full five minutes before moving on. I believe it was calling out to its brethren off in the distance, but we didn\u2019t see other whales that day. Eventually, we let the whale go on its way, and we returned <\/span>to the sharks. But the rest of the day we all had grins on our faces from the experience.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"saltwaterYou are always at the mercy of the sea.<\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n

One summer day, the weather was fairly typical\u2014hot, calm, and humid, with small pop-up showers in the area. These small storms were easily visible and moving very slowly. It wasn\u2019t a problem getting out of their way, and there was almost no lightning accompanying them. The <\/span>problem was that these storms hid a monster that was fast approaching from the southwest.<\/span><\/p>\n

This was before smart phones, and I had no radar on board. My first clue that something was amiss should have been the disappearance of all the large sportfishing boats. Suddenly, there was not another boat in sight, and off to the west was a black wall of rain with an almost constant rumbling of thunder emitting from it. We were only a couple of miles from the beach and and short run back to the safety of the harbor, but it was too late. The initial blast of wind preceding the rain dropped the air temperature by 20 degrees. If you ever experience this sort of instantaneous temperature change, just know that it\u2019s the weather gods coming for you.<\/span><\/p>\n

To the west, the whitecaps and sea foam generated by the wind looked like a carpet of snow that was marching toward us. As the storm came off the beach 2 miles away, the black wall of rain completely obliterated the coastline, and the lightning went into overdrive, with multiple bolts visible simultaneously. The rain and the wind hit us almost at the same moment, with a force that made capsizing a real possibility even with a 26-foot boat weighing several tons.<\/span><\/p>\n

We had secured everything loose and donned our raingear, and I quickly had the engines started and the bow pointed into the wind. Under any normal situation like this, standard operating procedure is bow into the waves and hold position until the storm passes, because it\u2019s really pointless to do anything else. But as the wind approached and passed the 70 mph mark, SOP went out the window.<\/span><\/p>\n

Even being just 2 miles from the beach (a very short distance for waves to build to any size), the sea went from almost flat to a constant battalion of breaking monsters bearing down on us. The 12-foot hillsides were so close together that being head-to quickly became dangerous, with waves breaking into and filling the boat, compounding the capsizing possibility. My only option was to spin around and ride it down wind, which was quite a maneuver given I had only a matter of seconds to turn before the next wave was on me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I managed to get it done, but it was dicey at best. Keep in mind that the rain was coming down so hard that the other end of the boat was barely visible, and bolts of lightning were coming down on both sides simultaneously. And these were the kind of bolts where the flash and the sound hit you at the same moment.<\/span><\/p>\n

By this time, exactly eight minutes had passed since first becoming aware of the impending doom\u2014not much time to do a lot about it.<\/span><\/p>\n

We stayed in this position for a while. I\u2019m not sure how long, because every second required steering adjustments to keep from going broadside to the maelstrom, and going broadside would have been instant disaster. Even going with the waves, large amounts of water were crashing over the stern into the cockpit. You know by listening to the thunder how long this will go on. When you hear that the majority of the thunder has passed, the worst is over. Forty-five minutes into this storm I could still hear thunder approaching off to the west. It felt like a lifetime.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the middle of all this, my phone rang. A captain friend who I had seen earlier in the day was on the other end. \u201cYou\u2019re not still out there, are you?\u201d he asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said, \u201cand I\u2019m a bit busy. What do you want?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou need to get out of there,\u201d he said. \u201cThere\u2019s a tornado in that cell!\u201d I explained to him the situation with the waves, lightning, rain, and inability to maneuver, and that I couldn\u2019t really give a crap about the tornado and hung up. I resisted asking him to tell my wife that I loved her, because that wouldn\u2019t really help any of us. Especially my wife\u2014or my client.<\/span><\/p>\n

We rode out the storm and made it safely back to port, but it was an experience I would prefer not to experience again, although it is worth noting two things: First, I was never so glad to be operating a catamaran, which handled it all in stride, and second, my client, who was great at keeping mostly calm, offered the opinion that after 16 years in the US Navy, it was the worst storm he had ever been in.<\/span><\/p>\n

You can go light, but be careful.<\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n

\"saltwaterWhen I first started guiding bluewater fly fishing in the early 1990s, I thought there wasn\u2019t much<\/span><\/p>\n

realistic use for fly rods smaller than 8-weights. In pretty short order, I changed that thinking completely. Now I typically carry rods as small as a 4-weights, and I am in the process of building a 3-weight.<\/span><\/p>\n

While there are days when the big fish I\u2019d like to show clients are absent, it\u2019s rare indeed that smaller fish aren\u2019t available. Small members of the jack family and small tunas and mackerel are great fun on light tackle and have saved many a day for me. Dolphin up to 10 pounds will make a 4- or 5-weight dance and make you forget all about trout.<\/span><\/p>\n

One day while out on a fun trip with friends, I came across a nice-sized log with lots of life around it. Triggerfish, small jacks called rudderfish, and bait were just a cloud around this thing. I had a livewell stuffed with small chum baits, and I started scattering them around the log, looking to fire up any predators in the area. Quickly, surface strikes and explosions began, signaling the arrival of small blackfin and skipjack tuna. Scanning the breaking fish, most all looked to be on the small side, only a couple of pounds apiece. Try as I might, I could not see anything larger, so I grabbed a 4-weight and a 5-weight and gave them to my buddies Quintin <\/span>and Chris.<\/span><\/p>\n

Standing on the gunwale to get better visibility while continuing to scatter chum, I tried to be the early warning if a larger fish, inappropriate for the rods they were using, showed up. I pretty <\/span>much failed miserably in the attempt, because there was suddenly a flash of brilliant purple, and Chris found himself with a fish blistering line off the 5-weight reel. The first run took enough line off the reel that the bare spool was visible beneath the backing. And though every subsequent run was shorter, they weren\u2019t shorter by much.<\/span><\/p>\n

Over the course of almost 30 minutes, the fish made eight runs well into the 150-yard-plus zone, and it never gave up until Chris finally battled it back to the boat to be netted. It turned out to be a skipjack tuna approaching 12 pounds. The fight was epic and a joy to watch.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"saltwaterIt’s not all about the fish.<\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n

One day, several miles offshore with clients, I was searching a weed line for dolphin. This particular weed line was very uniform\u2014nice fresh Sargasso weed, bright yellow, stretching off into the distance, with very little of anything else mixed in with it. While scanning weed lines like this, I look both in the water next to the boat (because if you\u2019re moving slowly and quietly enough, dolphin will swim right up to the boat), and I look ahead along the weed line in the distance (because surface activity is a very good way of locating not only dolphin, but many other desirable species as well).<\/span><\/p>\n

While scanning out in front, I spotted something that stood out like a sore thumb. It was brick red, with wide black vertical stripes. And then it started moving. Out of this patch of weeds materialized an iguana about 5 feet long\u2014just floating along like it was the most normal thing in the world.<\/span><\/p>\n

After a quick discussion with my passengers, we decided he really would prefer to be on dry land and not in the middle of the ocean with nothing to eat. So I grabbed my large landing net and scooped him up, depositing him in the front of the boat. It became obvious that Iggy (well, of course we named him) had been out there a long time.<\/span><\/p>\n

It probably washed out to sea during a storm in the tropics somewhere. A healthy iguana this size would normally weigh upwards of 50 pounds. I doubt Iggy weighed 25. The tip of his tail had been bitten off, his eyes were mostly swelled shut from salt water, and he wasn\u2019t moving particularly fast at all.<\/span><\/p>\n

He spent the rest of the day with us fishing, but he laid claim to the front of the cockpit, using his tail quite effectively like a bullwhip anytime someone came too close. I had two impressive welts on my leg by the time we came back in the inlet. I stopped to clean the dolphin we had <\/span>caught, spraying Iggy down with freshwater while I did. This made him perk up quite a bit, and for the ride back to the boat ramp, he took up a position on the tip of the bow. This brought quite a few incredulous stares from other boaters and a line of people fishing off of a bridge <\/span>we passed under.<\/span><\/p>\n

I tied up at the dock, and after a few minutes, Iggy slowly made his way onto the dock and moved away into some nearby underbrush. He most definitely had a look of \u201cthank you\u201d in his eyes as he made his way into the brush.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"saltwater<\/p>\n

Reflections from the Mill House Podcast<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n