Inspiration hit me like a slap in the face

Even if you don’t fish, most of the time you think of a character like Tom Sawyer sitting on the banks of the Mississippi with a straw hat, cane pole and the sound of cicadas just a-clickin’ in the trees. I think just about anyone who grew up fishing has his or her roots firmly planted in this stereotypical image.

Remember as a kid watching that red-and-white-striped bobber slowly sink out of sight and, after a short fight, pulling up your first 6-inch bream? I do. Well, let me tell you, folks, fishing is not as gentle a sport as it is cracked up to be.

I’ll bet my bottom dollar that right about now you are asking yourself where in the heck I am heading with this. Let me give credit where credit is due. My nephew Byron Sewell and I were reminiscing about some of our earlier adventures that go back almost 30 years. One thing led to another, finally ending up with us recounting a few of our fishing mishaps, of which there have been many.

While trading stories, we got on the subject of how big fish can prove to be quite a handful. Byron has been a local charter captain for years and presently owns Native Son Charters, running four different boats. A few years back, he called me from his cellphone and excitedly told me that he had caught what he believed to be a new state-record tripletail.

If you don’t know what a tripletail is, it is a rather elusive fish that lazes along, riding the tide on its side, and resembles a mix between a giant bream and a grouper. Somewhat prehistoric-looking, tripletail are mottled brown in color, stocky and have a very thick tail. Often mistaken for a chunk of wood floating in the water, it takes a sharp eye to pick out a tripletail, but if you see it in time, a bait pitched in front of it is rarely passed up. They are strong fighters and excellent table fare, but let’s get back to Byron’s story.

After his call, I went on the internet and looked up the current state-record tripletail, which was 25 pounds, 13 ounces, and called him with the info. As fishermen are notorious for doing, Byron finally confessed that the “caught” part of his message was missing the key word “almost.”

Here is his story. While tarpon fishing in Port Royal Sound, old eagle eye Byron sees this huge tripletail and chunks a live menhaden to it, which it instantly inhales. Also on board that day was John Jamison Jr. (aka Boogie), and the fight was on.

After a short fight, they get the fish to the boat, but they don’t have a landing net. Trying to grab a thrashing fish of any size is nearly impossible, and this old tripletail was no exception. After trying in vain to land the squirming fish, it happens. The hook falls out of its mouth, and the tired tripletail just lies there.

So what does Boogie do? He sheds his sunglasses and dives in with hopes of grabbing their state-record fish! Bad move, because no sooner had he wrapped his hands around that tripletail than it took that big tail and slapped him square in the face, leaving a welt in the perfect shape of its tail.

No, they didn’t get the fish, but I am willing to bet that, to Boogie, the name tripletail has taken on a whole new meaning.

Pretty darn funny, isn’t it? I laughed until my stomach hurt envisioning his tale, but I have to admit that I, too, have “been there and done that” when it comes to being slapped by fish. Name just about any big saltwater fish, and I have been a recipient of its thrashing tail. Marlin? You betcha. Kingfish? Heck yes. I have been slapped by the best of them.

It is funny as heck to watch when someone gets plastered, but it can put a real hurting on you. I have watched cobia clear out the cockpit of a boat, including everyone on board. Once I got hit so hard by a cobia’s massive tail that I saw stars for 30 minutes. The thing about being smacked is that it usually happens when you least expect it. Here are a few juicy scenarios.

A few years back, my late friend Warren Matthews and I were on a tarpon “roll.” Tarpon are amazingly strong anyway, but when you find yourself on the tail end of one, it is no fun at all. We had landed two fish already, and I was chosen to bring in the third tarpon of the day.

The fish was around 90 pounds and appeared totally spent when it reached the boat. Warren leans over the side, wraps the leader around his hand and, in the blink of an eye, the tarpon turns tail and hits him square in the kisser, breaking his glasses and leaving a slimy tarpon tail print across his

Personally, I have been creamed by tarpon at least a dozen times over the years. I am talking welts that last for days. Macho guys might call ’em “battle scars,” but all I know is that it really hurts.

Here is one last one for you. Once, while fishing in the Gulf Stream, we hook a monster mahi-mahi. Our female angler brings in this huge bull dolphin, I gaff it, and before I can put it in the fish box, everyone on board wants to take pictures.

So that you understand, freshly gaffed fish, especially mahi, often go ape (and for good reason!), so it is best to put the fish directly in the fish box until it expires. Knowing better, I am outvoted by those on board, so she stands next to me while I hold up the big dolphin.

One shutter click, two shutter clicks and wham-o! That dolphin slapped her leg so hard that it turned black and blue from her ankle to her hip!

So, state record or not, watch that tail because it can get ya! Isn’t that right, Boogie?

Collins Doughtie is a 60-year resident of the Lowcountry, is a sportsman, graphic artist, and lover of nature.