By Pontus Smith

We, me and my wife, had managed to get away on a rather short notice and arrived in Watamu on the 30th of December. The first time without the children since our firstborn 7 years ago, nice: Time to chill out and to do nothing. … Almost noting at least. I had actually hoped to be able to go out fishing for a couple of days. We, me and my wife, had managed to get away on a rather short notice and arrived in Watamu on the 30th of December. The first time without the children since our firstborn 7 years ago, nice: Time to chill out and to do nothing. … Almost nothing at least. I had actually hoped to be able to go out fishing for a couple of days.

We celebrated New Years Eve on the beach together with the other guests and the people at A Rocha Kenya, Mwamba field study center. They are working with environmental education, community conservation, research & monitoring of: The Arabuko-Sokoke forest, the largest remnant of dry forest in East Africa, Mida Creek ,one of the most productive mangrove ecosystems on earth & Watamu Marine Park.

New years day is a big holiday here (muslims), and the beach was full with locals. Vibrating colors, a bit like watching color-TV for the first time, compared to the rather gloomy landscape we left behind. Now, 2nd of January, it was starting to itch. I have to get hold of Peter Darnborough and go out fishing! Only one problem: no electricity. Apparently the transport manager at Turtle Beach Resort had rammed a powerline pole and wiped out the electricity for the whole area south of Turtle Bay. I had to walk the beach down to Ocean Sports were I met Peter. Although some heavy winds & waves, plus not a not to favourable forecast, we decided to go fishing the next day. Pete´s Alleycat, a 36 ft Hatteras, is quite safe to go out in almost any kind of weather. After a rather sleepless night, full of anticipation, I got picked up by Peter and drove to Hemmingways. There we got a nice cup of coffee and chatted around with the other guys before we went to Alleycat. She is equipped with Shimano Tiagras, Penn International custom rods & and a good collection of lures. – Although Peters speciality is live-bait, supposedly the best in Kenya.

The setup for this day’s quest was 80 & 130 lb. tackle. Full spread, Kenyan style, 8 lines with only larger lures 12″-16″, targeting larger marlin out at the sea mounts. 6 lines of the riggers and 2 of the shotgun since the wake had not been productive lately: Going for quality, not quantity. – And then of course a skipbait, ready for display, if something would come along , not liking what it sees.

On the way out through “razorgang country” the “lesser” baits came out, in case that they would get wacked & wrecked by some toothy critter. And so it was, a nice 24 lb. wahoo, made me look forward to dinner. I also like Peter’s crew, not just hanging around waiting for orders. His first mate noticed something improper with one of the Tiagras, had it down to pieces and fixed it , on an instance. They had had a bit of a bad run the last couple of days, loosing an est. 800 lb. marlin on a broken swivel and another est. 600 lb. on a broken line: This was going through my head, as I was sitting there waiting, not knowing that I was soon to put a smile on Peters face again. Wham! Strike! Big Marlin! Short Corner! The line was peeling of the reel with a remarkable speed. We are hooked up. The big girl was jumping all over the place, miraculously not tangling the other lines. This I was told by Pete afterwards. At that moment I was not able to enjoy the ballet performed upon our behalf, but was busy getting the rod to the fighting chair, f…ing around with that bloody gimbal getting ready to get down to business. As soon as the lines were cleared Pete was backing down in hot pursuit getting us all wet. Suddenly she decided to sound, now running against 45 lb. drag. – Down, down, down she went, the drag steady slipping at the strain, the spool relentlessly continued turning. Finally the marlin stopped. I could see her for my eyes in the darkness below, the pectoral fins set in a diving angle, much like the diving planes on a submarine. This, making it backbreaking to pump the fish up. Several marlins have died at such depths, but the fact that I had 130 lbs. line between me and the marlin, made me confident that she would see the daylight again. I began a slow rhythmic pumping. In & out of low gear, keeping the pressure up, not giving her time to rest. For every inch she took, I tried to regain two. I used the waves to stem her up and finally we sensed that the tide of battle was changing. The fish gave a few yards and slowly shook it´s head. Reeling became easier. Pete eased the throttles into slow forward. The angle of line was changing rapidly, she was coming up. I was turning the reel-handle faster and faster, preventing any slack. She broke the surface in a halfhearted try to jump, not carrying the entire body out of the water. Soon the leader was in reach. Yes!! Catch confirmed, after just about 40 minutes fight. How big is she? It’s a she alright, males don´t grow this big. I can´t see a bloody thing, the crew is blocking my view.

I´m backing off the drag, so that if she decides to go, I will not endanger the mate on the leader. And as if she could read my thoughts, away she went, peeling off line again. I gradually increased drag and thumbed the side of the spool. I got her to stop. After a while, she´s there again on the starboard side. Tag ready, bugger, she goes under the boat. Pete instantly puts the gear in forward. She goes to the backboard side & then again to starboard. Tossing the mate around, forcing him to let go again. Peter decides to come down and finish it off himself. The leader comes in reach again and Peter yells: “Tag her, that f..er, you m…ther f…ing sob!”……. I assume that at least, myself being fairly uneducated in Swahili, knowing not more but a few phrases. But, putting myself in his situation, that’s the words I would have used. Nevertheless it did the job. The tag went in on the right spot, making the lady less confident in our intent to let her go unharmed. With the last reserves, she made a last attempt to get away. After a one hour fight, she´s on the billrope. Now I can put the rod on the side and take a closer look at our catch. The marlin is absolutely beautiful, hooked in the corner of the jaw, no bleeding.

Great! My first Blue, estimated 500 lb. Nice and fat. Pete can´t stop smiling. They say it´s not over till the fat lady sings, she didn´t sing but was over all right. Opposing our revival attempts, she turned belly up, dying. Peter asks me if its ok to take her. I nod in approval. The gaff comes out. When the marlin beached, a rather large crowd had gathered at Ocean Sports. I walked up the beach with a quite ambivalent feeling. Sorrow for having killed such a magnificent animal and pride to have subdued such a big prey.

Finally the caveman instincts won, and I enjoyed the situation fully.

Then, the moment of truth! Time to weigh her in. 621 lbs !! The manager brought beers. Tusker time. A couple of days later the urge to go out at sea got stronger so, I called Peter quite late in the evening and asked him: ” Do you feel like fishing tomorrow?” “Sure , always! I just have to get hold of the crew. We were about to do some maintenance. Ill pick you up in the morning:” It was a rather slow day. The search for marlin had been fruitless, 7 hours and nothing. I was taking some photos of a passing boat and then….

I have to quote Pat Hemphill, living legend, in Shimoni: “Big game fishing is hour upon hours of relentless boredom occasionally interrupted by unforgettable moments of sheer panic.” … “Marlin! Short corner!” The reel absolutely screaming, the fish jumping away. “Clear the lines!” I took the rod from the gunwale moving towards the chair when the marlin turned, jumping fiercefully in our direction. I started to wind like a maniac, trying to get the slack out of the line. Pete whammed the throttles in full forward and the rear disappeared in a cloud of black diesel fumes. The marlin overtook us, dislodged the hook in a summersault just off the backboard side and disappeared. “Sayonara, my friend”. That´s big game fishing, all right. ♬We´ll meet again Don´t know where Don´t know when But I know we´ll meet again some sunny day…. The last day before returning to the color-deprived homelands of Germany, I went out with Peter´s brother David. I had promised the manager of A Rocha to take him fishing and along with him came a marine biologist. No billfish luck struck, but we managed to catch some mahi-mahi, enough to feed the people at A Rocha a couple of days.

Despite of our absent friends (the ones carrying a bill), we enjoyed ourselves quite a bit. A very nice day at sea was perfectly rounded up at Hemmingway´s with numerous Dawa cocktails. Dawa means “medicine” or “magic portion” in Swahili. Slice a lime into wedges in a strong tumbler. Crush the lime , add honey (preferably forest-honey) Add crushed ice & pour in 4-6 cl vodka Enjoy! Tight lines Pontus Smith