Guests
As close to a JR2 All-Star lineup as you can get. Kitefisherman, Fishhunta, Bubblejunkie, Topshotta, and Conspearasea. Long drives from the East coast to get a Westside taste of the Hatch. The fact that we were into the second 1500# fishbox by Sat morn leads me to believe the taste turned into an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Sea Conditions
Seas were 2'-3' for most of the trip whch laid down Sat afternoon with the wind shift. Skies were overcast which coupled with the cold air temps made exiting the seemingly warm by comparison 64-68 degree water, a bone chilling proposition. We battled the elements with use of the large fully enclosed JR2 cabin, ample hot water down the wetsuit, hot chocolate, and homemade chili. Vis at our closer in spots was only around 10', but improved to upwards of 60' at our more remote locations with currents not being a factor on this trip.

Reign In Blood
A dockside summit was convened prior to departure to discuss the possibility of poor weather on Sunday. The decision was made to go for the full weekend trip, and scale back to a single overnighter depending on fish production, and sea conditions as they progressed.

Everyone got in a couple of dives on Friday on your typical Hatch rock piles, and ledges capped by Fishunta nailing a nice cobia with his RA railgun on a wreck right as the sun dippped below the horizon. We continued onward, and anchored up on a spot that had produced good night bites for us in the past. For the first couple of hours we encountered steady action with a few gags, and large mangos after which the deck slowly emptied of people as they retired to rest up for the following day's steelslinging. Five minutes after I hit the sleeping bag, all hell broke loose.

Screams and whooping from the remaining Conspearasea, Fishhunta, and Jimmy Z got me up to see Conspearasea struggling with a large fish not fighting the typical vertical battle of a grouper, but rather taking line out at a good clip. After a tremendous fight the fish shows color, and at first look we dejectedly call out shark, but then I spot the dorsal finlets. COBIA!! We get the fish into position, and with help from eager "deckside spearos" who launched lineshafts into the beast, I gaffed the cob, swung him on deck where it proceeded to go bananas. Game on. The next two hours was just a blur for all involved of re-rigging, gaffing, deck wrestling, and kill spiking cobias that were biting like mangos in the MG on a full moon. We lost more than we caught, and everyone took turns sabiki-ing the live sardines swarming the boat that lasted mere seconds on the hook before getting blasted. When all was said and done, we had our seven cob limit, the biggest at 40# which got taken to the house by yours truly.

The next morning it was time to get "off the hook", and get them the real way, by slinging mad steel. I guess we caught all the the cobs, because the first dive team, and the two subsequent backdives only managed fat HOD's of big mangos, hogfish, amberjack, and a few grouper with nary a cobia to be seen. We'll take it though. The rest of the day required just three more spots, two of which we backdove to half fill the second box after plugging the first. That combined with the impending forecast brought us to the decision to take it back the Hatch early, another mission accomplished.

On a side note, the amount of red snapper which are closed recreationally until April is just retarded right now. We were surrounded by ARS on every dive, and released countless specimens fishing, some over ten pounds, after properly venting them. It was physically painful. Must...not...shoot...MUST...NOT...SHOOT . Standing by.

Slaytistics. This ended being only a four tank trip with Jimmy Z not diving. Top fish in parenthesis.
Gag Grouper=44 (26#)
Red Grouper=3 (13#)
Amberjack=14 (39#)
Mango Snapper=115 (8#)
Hogfish=46 (6#)
Cobia=7 (40#)

AJ Suarez