The three of us sat in relaxed silence as we patiently absorbed the rhythmic pounding of our panga against the wind-chopped morning seas. Moments before we had stopped the boat and paused to appreciate a majestic sunrise over the rocky cliffs that surround the entrance to La Paz bay.  It was the second of the three-day trip and Capt. Javier was expertly guiding us through the thick haze to the north end of Cerralvo Island.

         We all seemed to have worn off the excess tension brought from home with our efforts the day before.  Mike had stoned a seventy-pound pez fuerte and we shared sightings of marlin, sailfish, tuna, dorado and playful mantas.

         This morning was different however. We were the first boat to arrive in the area and Capt. Javier slowed our speed as we coasted onto the spot. We all yelled and pointed with excitement as we sighted multiple bait schools nervously breaking the surface. The bait twitched repeatedly from attack by some yet unknown predators below.  Mike and I jumped in leaving Todd behind nursing an infected ear and awaiting our scouting report.  The water was a calm blue with a hazy forty-foot of visibility.  The sun was still low in the sky as it was only about nine o’clock.

         As I kicked around the area I failed to find any signs of baitfish activity from the surface so I dove into the empty blue searching for a better look.  At a depth of thirty-five feet and near the end of my breath, a fast moving school of tuna blazed through from behind and forty feet to my left. Looking to my right and picking up Mike on the edge of my visibility I could see he also had tuna passing his outside.  I pushed my bottom time anticipating the tuna’s return but they moved on and I headed for the surface for much needed air.

         On the surface I continued to scan in all directions as I deepened my breathing to shorten my recovery time. It was hard to relax due to the adrenaline pump triggered by the frenzied tuna action.  Looking to my left and directly into the sun I saw a huge round silhouette forty feet away gliding my direction fifteen feet below.  I immediately turned my gaze away from the fish and thought to myself “big tuna”.  A few seconds later I slowly peered out the corner of my eye and saw that it was a huge wahoo. Despite my amazement, I suppressed the urge to analyze the situation and allowed my subconscious to take the lead of my actions.  Pulling in a few more deep breaths and hearing the call to dive, I slowly kicked over as smoothly as possible while turning my back on the approaching fish.  I paralleled the path of the wahoo on my slow decent and gradually turned my body and eyes toward the passing fish.  The wahoo began to drift down and away as I entered his zone.  At a depth of twenty-five feet I pumped with a few strong but narrow kicks and closed the distance to the fish to fifteen feet.  Extending my Heindrich gun, it recoiled with a subconscious pull of the trigger and I saw nothing but a quick flash of the entry wound and the sight of bungee line accelerating into the blue.

         Breaking the surface I intercepted the fast moving Riffe floats just in time to grab the last handle strap.  Shouldering my gun I flattened my profile to reduce any excessive drag on the fish.  The wahoo pulled me right past Mike, turning out to sea and past Todd and Javier in the panga.  I could feel the incredible strength and kick of the fish transmitting through the line and floats. All I could see was blue water rushing past my mask as I was being pulled along the surface.  The fish continued to pull from a depth of fifty to sixty feet and after an incredible two hundred yard run came to a slow stop.  The first sixty of my hundred-foot bungee came up out of the blue easily as slack line. The remaining forty feet of line required some very hard pulling while I aggressively kicked to hold my position at the surface. The wahoo slowly rose from the depths and took on a surrealistic appearance as it neared the surface.

         Clipping my float at the stainless steel shooting line I carefully made my way to the shaft. I could see that my Alexander tip was firmly toggled and while holding the spearshaft, line and fish away from me I grabbed the tail to test for reaction. I was amazed to find that my hand would only stretch around one side of the base of the tail due to its massive girth.  The wahoo showed little sign of strength beyond a slow kick but I reminded myself of what “Big Jim” Christiansen had taught me years ago, that “ a fish is never dead”.  While holding the spear with my left hand I grabbed for the gills with my right. I was quickly refused entry when the wahoo powerfully clamped his gill plates closed. It felt like forever as I hung there without secure control over the fish or my immediate destiny. I knew the fish would eventually have to take a breath and with some coaxing and determination I finally forced my hand into the gills and grabbed a firm handle. I immediately hugged the fish to my body with my free arm and I was quite startled by the girth and density of the fish. With some sense of control I swam the fish the twenty or so feet to the arriving panga. Todd yelled over to me to wait while he grabbed the camera for a shot of me in the water with the fish but all I could focus on was getting the fish securely in the boat. With Capt. Javier’s help I lifted the wahoo over the rail and into the panga.

         What a rush! I had the shakes from the residual adrenaline for the remainder of the day and soon took on the nickname of “Shakey” from my dive buddies.

         A couple educated guesses were offered but I really had no idea of the wahoo’s weight. It wasn’t until we were back at the Cortez Club that it’s size and weight became a reality. The wahoo weighed in at 125 lbs. on the certified scale. The excitement increased as I was told that it might qualify as a new World Record. This was truly a trip of a lifetime.

         I want to thank and give credit to God for answering my very specific prayer. Before the trip I had prayed for our safety, guidance and specifically for a 120 lb. fish to come straight at me from the left and to turn broadside in front of me. God delivered.

         I also thank my dive buddies Todd Anderson and Mike Marsh for making it a very enjoyable trip.

         Thanks also to Jonathan Roldan’s Adventures and the Cortez Club for their class A service.

         Despite appearances, this is a team sport and I thank the many that came before me and contributed to my knowledge, skill, equipment and opportunity along the way.

B.D. GAUDINO, D.C.July 2002