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Albie Video

It's a cold Fall morning on the coast of North Carolina and we're drinking coffee and watching the sun climb out of the ocean, illuminating the eastern sky in a brush stroke of orange. The wind is blowing steadily out of the northeast, ripping through us with a shiver before streaking out into the ocean, where it once filled the sails of Blackbeard the Pirate. We've gathered here, as many fly fishermen have, because massive balls of bait are gathering just off shore. Above the bait, giant flocks of gulls climb high into the sky like clouds of smoke rising out of the rough water. Below, some of the fastest fish in the ocean, the false albacore, are preparing their attack. Our goal...be there when this occurs. My world revolves around trout, literally. Born and raised in the heart of the Rocky Mountains and working as a guide for more than ten years now, I view changes in the year as hatches, not seasons. My clothes, car, and even carpet are magically full of tiny trout flies, making it dangerous to walk through the house barefoot - and my dog, is named after a fish ”Hucho”. I'm now completely certain that there is no hope for me returning to a life that does not revolve around trout. With this said, I find it strange to be such a fishing bum...yet completely out of my environment here. I'm not a complete saltwater virgin...but I have a lot to learn. Fortunately, I'm riding in the

bow of a boat owned by Seth Thompson, a Colorado native that traded the streams for ocean surf years ago. A weekend warrior with a sixth-fish-sense that is borderline scary...an innate ability to find fish; you're either born with this, or never gain it. I do my best to scan the horizon for busting fish or tightly grouped birds, but we're usually already in pursuit by the time I spot anything. Seth prefers a "run and gun" style - hammering down the throttle at the sight of busting fish, a crazed "oh s__t, hold on" back breaking, boat drenching, sprint to the fish. Then its cast, cast, cast and the fish either disappear into the abyss...or you hook up...with the False Albacore! Now, I know it doesn't mean much for a three weight sporting, 18 inch trophy trout bragging, flip flop wearing mountain kid to comment on fighting a False Albacore...but you can't argue with the stats. When you connect with the “Albie”, your tied into one of the fastest fish on the planet...averaging 75% muscle and clocking in at nearly 40 mph. One of the few warm blooded fish, these torpedos have retractable dorsal fins that allow them to obtain speeds that make other saltwater speedsters look like finless trout- tards from the local hatchery. Ok, you get it, they're fast. But there is more to the Albie than its speed. The chaotic, slashing, top water burst...frantic bait sprays...and just the sound of fish cutting through water...is enough to tantalize anyone's senses. At times the feeding fish push so close to the boat and the carnage becomes so intense that bait are actually thrust onto the floor of the boat, where they thrash wildly in a state of panic...it is moments like these that destroy trout fishermen forever. I'm home now, where the thermometer seems to be stuck on 20 degrees, milling through hours and hours of footage. The bait sprays are beautiful and the reels are screaming nicely, but what really stands out while reviewing the shots is the unity between the group of fishermen. Between hookups and running to busting fish, people are laughing and high-fiving, swearing and telling jokes. It reinforces the notion that the catching is just a minor part of the fishing experience. I feel fortunate to be part of the crew.