Читать книгу Never Cry Halibut. and Other Alaska Hunting and Fishing Tales онлайн

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Most of the halibut we caught were about the size of Ping-Pong paddles, but knowing there was a chance our bait might find its way into the mouth of monster was enough to make me and my brothers plead to stop trolling for cohos and give a halibut hole a try. I couldn’t figure out why Dad often seemed reluctant.

“Halibut! It’s a big one!” I would scream a few moments after my lead weight bounced on the ocean bottom. Not even Reid, my gullible younger brother, bothered to look over. I’d babble as the giant tried to tear the pole from my hands. If it looked like I might lose the rod, Dad would intervene; otherwise, he’d let me battle it out with what often evolved into something bigger than a halibut could possibly grow. He’d stare off wistfully as other boats slowly dragged for cohos and wince when fishermen waved their nets in preparation of bringing a fish aboard. Usually after a few minutes of groaning, moaning, and whining, the hook popped free, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Probably was a whale. Lucky it got off,” I’d say. “Might have killed us if I got it to the surface. And even if it didn’t, we’d have to tow it back to the dock, and that would likely mean being attacked by killer whales, sharks, or a giant squid.”