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Fishing With Papa
By PACO SACA
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THE BITE on location in El Salvador
Papa” headed our six-man group that flew into El
Salvador International Airport last May. Papa isn’t
the ghost of Ernest Hemingway but none other than
Capt. “Black” Bart Miller, one of the grand old men of the
sportfishing world. The group included the team from The Bite
TV show: host Capt. Matt Tambor, executive producer Scott
“Scoot” Shane, director A.J. Willis, underwater videographer
Tony Ludovico and mate J.J. Logan.
Together with brothers J.C. and Robbie Sanchez, we
drove about 120 miles to a beach house in beautiful El
Tamarindo. There was so much gear that the guys rode with
their cameras on their laps. We reached our destination at
about 10:30 p.m. and toured the house and property. I sat and
watched them unpack the very best of high-definition video
cameras, wireless microphones, high-resolution still cameras,
underwater casings, free-diving gear, six-foot bluewater
hunting guns and, of course, a bag full of the nicest Black Bart
lures I’ve ever seen. Among the Black Bart lures were many of
the popular and reliable styles we all know. There were also a
few prototypes, new lures and ideas for testing before going to
production.
I couldn’t convince the group to let me take two more
of my rigs; so I wasn’t able to fish my multi-lure spread for
marlin. But, that was understandable. It’s not every day that
you get to fish with a master and living legend
like Miller. I resigned myself to the job of
finding the fish because I know the Salvadoran
waters well. I let Papa run the show downstairs
by choosing the spread and setting up the rods,
and ran the cockpit to his liking on my 38-foot
Pursuit named the Sandy-ita.
The only 80-pound outfit (my Tiagra) was
placed on the LL and the rest of the outfits, all
four Alutecnos 130s covered the remaining
positions. The spread didn’t change much
during the trip. That’s usually the case when
you have someone onboard who really knows
what he’s doing. We had a basic five-line
spread [Editor’s Note: The “spread” is the
positioning of the lures in the wake, noted as
left-short (LS); left-long (LL); right-short (RS);
right-long (RL); shotgun (SG)]:
LS: either a Blue Breakfast or Brazilliano.
LL: Black Bart’s prototype lure.
RS: either an El Squid SR or RPP or an
Eleuthera Plunger.
RL: either a Kona Classic Tube or a Mahi
Candy or a Hot Breakfast.
SG: Super Pro-Jet on the shotgun “for the rest
of my life,” as Bart says.
Of course, I suggested a change or two from
those lures. Papa always let me make the change,
but only to prove me wrong. After a while of
running the suggested change, I would give the
order to go back to the previous lure. He knew that
I would.
The first day I took the group to a spot where
I’d had a nice marlin bite the previous week. Sadly,
conditions had changed. This day only served to
show Papa where the fish were not. The TV guys
were concerned about the color of the water. I told
them not to worry. Blue water only matters to the
eyes. As long as the top 200 feet were clear, then
we had a chance for a marlin. It seemed the right
color for marlin. Most people know there are no
guarantees with marlin fishing. There are fishless
days even in the best spots in the world. The marlin
never showed, but we did have lots of actionpacked
fun catching a
bunch of nice mahi mahi.
J.C.’s boat, the White
Marlin, fishing the same
area, did equally as well
with the mahi and raised
a blue marlin into their
spread that did not bite.
On the second day, the
White Marlin stayed
ashore and I decided to
check a spot where we had
released a large fish last
year. Just a couple of miles
before reaching the spot I
saw good water at a depth
of 350 feet and plenty of
life in the area, so I slowed
the engines to put the lines
in the water. Very little
time had passed when the
center line sprung to life:
ZZZZZZzzzzzzzz. Javier,
my son, grabbed the big
Alutecnos 130 and took
it to the chair while the
rest of the crew cleared the
cockpit. I was happy for Papa because I believed
we were onto our first marlin of the trip. Javier
fought the fish for about 15 minutes, but when it
was almost under the boat, the line
went slack. The fish never showed. I
hate it when that happens!
Papa said it was an Ahi from the
looks of the tip of the rod. Although
I questioned his verdict, I took it as
fact. I doubted it was a tuna because
never in my life had I hooked one in
such shallow water off El Salvador. A
couple of days later, Jorge, my other
son, went out on his center console
and reported seeing 60-pound Ahi
feeding in only 200 feet of water.
Continuing with the second day of
fishing, I predicted we would be home
early but after losing that fish I told
my mate Nico, “Call the house and
tell them we’ll be late. I’m not leaving
today until we get a fish.”
I steered Sandy-ita against an
unusually strong current and kept
going for a few miles when, at 368
feet of water, I saw the biggest blue
marlin I’ve ever seen. What a strike!
The fish came sideways with a bill
the size of my leg and I could also
see the big arch of the tail fin well
behind. I yelled, “Marlin!” The sound
of the line was much different than the
previous strike. “Marlin long corner!”
The fish had picked the only 80-pound
outfit on the boat! The lure was Bart’s
prototype!
I looked down the tower and saw
Javier at the chair getting strapped for
the fight. Line still stripping fast, she
first ran hard to starboard breaking
water and sending foam high into the
air as I immediately turned the boat to
port to compensate. She then suddenly
turned straight toward the horizon
and, after a few jumps, turned to port as I steered the other
way to keep her from getting to the side of the boat. She then
settled down as I started backing down on her little by little.
The next time I looked down from the tower I saw a
sight I will never forget. Javier, my 17-year-old son, fighting
the mighty fish as Bart stood to his left coaching him. At one
point there was a turtle very close to the line and we thought
she might go for it, so I told Javier to reel in fast while I
backed down much faster. As the fight continued past the
30-minute mark, I felt Javier would need all his strength and
need to pace himself for this fight. I looked at him to reassure
him that we were there, and Papa was standing by his side.
Without a word he nodded and understood.
I looked up and flying in circles over the boat was a
frigate. It was as if it was looking over Capt. Bart and his
young fisherman. Then I knew the fish would be ours. More
than 40 minutes had passed since she first bit and was still
going strong. She stayed down maybe 50 feet below the
surface for the tug-o-war – two inches in one direction
and two inches in the other. During the fight, Javier told
Bart he had never had a fish fight this hard and Bart told
him to apply a little more pressure. Javier replied, “This is
the 80-pound outfit, I’ll let her tire a bit more.” I had not
realized the size of this fish and handled her as I would have
a smaller fish. I pulled away from her, watching the line
immediately change in angle. I alerted my angler and backed
up fast. J.J. grabbed the leader and took a few wraps. We had
the release!
She had a certain look in her eye as if challenging the
Sandy-ita crew to a battle they had never experienced. At
first, I doubted our abilities. I knew Miller had faced these
challenges in the past. I couldn’t back down from the fight.
She finally surfaced off the starboard side, shaking her
massive head violently and sending spray in every direction.
What I always thought to be a 600-pound fish – a big fish
anywhere – turned out to be the fish of a lifetime. J.J. held on
for dear life as the massive fish continued shaking her head,
punishing him with every shake.
Parenthetically, fishing for a television show is very
different from everyday fishing. Making a show takes a
lot, and a fish is only as good as the camera shots she can
provide. We already had the legal release on the fish. Now
we needed some underwater footage of the beast. Sitting on
the gunwale was our professional underwater videographer,
Tony Ludovico, with his high-resolution
camera waiting for my signal to jump
overboard to film the fish. That swim
never happened because I chickened out!
This fish was unbelievably powerful
– massive yet still very agile. She
continued shaking her head as I moved
her to the center, just off the swim step,
and pushed the boat forward a bit to get
away from her. Yet, during one of those
head-shakes the single hook came loose.
The fish was free. She didn’t notice at first
and swam toward the boat, passing only
two feet from the swim step. She then
slowly turned to starboard and disappeared into the depths.
Smiling ear-to-ear, Javier raised his arms in glorious victory.
Normally when an average size fish is hooked up,
there’s pandemonium in the cockpit – shouting, swearing,
people tripping, etc. The immense size of this fish, however,
resulted in calm and focused attention of each crewmember.
Miller and the others congratulated Javier as soon as
the fish swam away. I climbed down the tower to celebrate
with everybody and to congratulate my boy on such a great
performance. Papa said she was one of the most beautiful
fish he had ever seen.
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;)
