We launched just after first light at Cable Bay, the sky still holding onto that soft grey-blue that comes before the sun properly wakes up. The sea was calm, barely a ripple, and Loachy’s new Frewza sat beautifully in the water—solid, tidy, and ready for a proper christening. You could tell he was proud of it, and fair enough too. Nothing quite like a new boat and a full day ahead.
The plan was simple: get out early, find some sign, and put a few decent snapper on ice. But as it goes sometimes, the fish didn’t exactly get the memo. The first couple of hours were slow. Lines down, baits fresh, but not much happening apart from the odd nibble. Still, no complaints—good company, good yarns, and a sunrise that lit the hills up behind us in gold and orange.
Then it happened.
Loachy’s rod gave that proper, solid bend—no mistaking it. He grabbed it quick, and you could tell straight away this wasn’t just another small fish. A few tense moments later, up came a solid snapper, thick across the shoulders and shining in the morning light. We measured it—74cm. His personal best. Absolute stoke. The grin on his face said it all. That fish alone made the trip worth it.
We barely had time to reset before things kicked off again—this time it was my turn. Technically, it was Loachy’s rod (since I’d already managed to break mine… classic), but I wasn’t complaining. The rod loaded up hard, line peeling just enough to get the heart going. I leaned into it, feeling that weight thumping back through the line. It was a proper scrap.
When it finally came into view, we both knew—it was bigger.
We got it on board and measured it out: 77cm. My new personal best. Unreal. That moment, standing there holding that fish, is one you don’t forget in a hurry. Just pure buzz.
After that double hit, things went quiet again. The ocean settled back into one of those slow, patient rhythms. We still managed to pick away at a few more fish—a decent snapper, a nice gurnard, and even a solid rig to round things out. Not a bad haul by any means, especially considering how the morning started.
By late morning, we decided to head back in, timing it nicely to get ashore before the high tide made things tricky. The Frewza handled it all like a champ—easy ride, no stress.
Back home, as I was prepping the big snapper—gutted and ready for filleting and smoking—I had a bit of a laugh to myself. I picked up my daughter, who’s 21 pounds, just to get a rough feel for weight. No scales, unfortunately, but I can tell you this—the snapper was definitely heavier. Still, without proof, it’s just one of those stories.
- And maybe that’s part of it.
- A perfect morning, a couple of PBs, good mates, and a new boat that proved itself straight away. Not every detail needs to be official.
Until next time—tight lines.
