Fish on!

“Snake-bit. I must be snake-bit,” Seth mused.

Having five previous tuna charters canceled for bad weather, Seth booked the next available date with Two Rivers Charters — Sept. 27 — for a trip almost certain to be combat fishing. There were five of us finally on the road to Westport, Wash. with five coolers filled with everything — overnight bags, rain gear, boots, and cameras — everything needed for an explosive day of outrageous action.

We stopped in Aberdeen for breakfast and lunch fixin’s. There in the Wal-Mart parking lot we talked to two tired but still amped-up guys who told us the fishing was on fire. Tuna are big and eager to bend rods, they said. The only thing that could limit our catch was worn-out arms or full fish-holds.

We pulled into Westport and had dinner at Aloha Alabama’s. It was great food, and there were plenty of napkins, which we used to do the math that proved a cooler full of tuna is a cost-effective way to buy food.

On the way back to a friend’s house we were using for the weekend, we were led by a brilliant moon that was identified as full, by my brother, Joe.

“No,” I exclaimed. “Tomorrow it will be full - a super moon with a full eclipse, which last happened over 30 years ago.”

We pulled into the driveway too excited to sleep but afraid not to. We were off to bed, almost. Why do security companies ask for code numbers and words while the alarm is screaming so loud you can’t think? Well, then it was off to bed. With permanent hearing loss, it was the first time in years I didn’t need earplugs for Joe’s snoring.

Next morning we met our captain, Mark Coleman, and our deck hand, Joel. They went over safety and gear and the dance needed to catch tuna at the torrid pace of late. Our boat was fast and rock solid. Still, 45 miles is a boat ride on 5-foot seas. Joe and Jim chose to sit on the deck under a spray awning. It was a smoother ride, but you need your rain gear. Halfway out, Joe’s rain pants special had failed and he was soaked from the waist down. He traded seats with Seth.

At last! Time to fish! From the radio chatter we heard the bite was not on but no worries, it soon would be. An hour later, fish on! Joe had hooked up. His troll line reel sang out as Captain Mark became our orchestra leader who led the music we would dance to. Bring in the other trolling line. Live bait lines out. Fish on! My troll line joined in perfect pitch as Seth, his son, Landon, and Jim, in choreographed order, let out live bait. Fish on! Jim’s line bent like a wax in the sun. Joe’s pole went dead. Fish off! Mark shouted: “Jim follow your fish.” “Joe get that line in and get bait out!” “Hurry we must keep these fish up!”

My fish led me over and under other lines. After a scare with the prop, one more run, and Joel deftly brought it on board. Jim’s fish went down as I wondered what our derby tickets would pay.

Just as fast as it started, it was over. Jim’s fish stayed down. After several minutes of give and take, Jim began to get the upper hand, as we wondered if Jim’s age was on the hook and had in fact had caught him. “OPAH! OPAH!” Joel shouted. “And it’s big.” His excitement was real and infectious as he brought the fish over the side. “It’s a new state record,” Joel declared. “I know because I netted a 28.1-pound Opah a couple years ago which is the current state record and this one this one is bigger.” This opah was round like a disc, with brilliant orange fins and a glowing orange-copper body with blue dots. Very rare, in Washington waters.

We finished late and after three more tuna, Captain Mark reluctantly called it a day. As we headed in, we asked Mark and Joel if they thought the moon had something to do with the slow bite. They had both had great days on a full moon. It’s just fishing.

Back at the dock, people were lined up to see the new state record. Several old-timers had never seen one.

We caught more tuna that day than most people. Seth? Seth was skunked. We ate dinner that night at the Fish Shack, great food and plenty of napkins to cry in.

As we drove back to the house, we were led by a truly rare blood moon that had an orange-copper glow.

On our way home, Jim’s fish was certified as the new Washington state record, 35.11 pounds.

What are the odds of Joel netting the first state record, and again on such a rare fish on such a rare lunar event? A lot of people have filled coolers with tuna and never heard of an opah, also known as a moonfish. Snake bite? Dumb luck? Moonstruck? I don’t know. It’s just fishing.

Editor’s note: Jim Watson of Coeur d’Alene caught the record-setting opah, or moonfish, on Sept. 27, using an anchovy as bait. A tropical fish seldom seen off the Washington coast, it was weighed and recorded in Olympia, setting a new state record. Watson’s fishing buddies on the trip were writer Elmer Wright, of Rathdrum; Elmer’s brother, Joe, of Coeur d’Alene; and Seth and Landon Moulding, of Rathdrum.