Albie Video

It’s a cold Fall morning on the coast of North Carolina and we’redrinking coffee and watching the sun climb out of the ocean,illuminating the eastern sky in a brush stroke of orange. The windis blowing steadily out of the northeast, ripping through us with ashiver before streaking out into the ocean, where it once filled thesails of Blackbeard the Pirate.We’ve gathered here, as many fly fishermen have, because massiveballs of bait are gathering just off shore. Above the bait, giant flocksof gulls climb high into the sky like clouds of smoke rising out ofthe rough water. Below, some of the fastest fish in the ocean, the falsealbacore, are preparing their attack. Our goal…be there when thisoccurs.My world revolves around trout, literally. Born and raised in theheart of the Rocky Mountains and working as a guide for more than tenyears now, I view changes in the year as hatches, not seasons. Myclothes, 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 nohope 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…yetcompletely out of my environment here. I’m not a complete saltwatervirgin…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. Aweekend warrior with a sixth-fish-sense that is borderline scary…aninnate ability to find fish; you’re either born with this, or nevergain it. I do my best to scan the horizon for busting fish or tightlygrouped birds, but we’re usually already in pursuit by the time I spotanything. Seth prefers a “run and gun” style – hammering down thethrottle at the sight of busting fish, a crazed “oh s__t, hold on” backbreaking, boat drenching, sprint to the fish. Then its cast, cast, castand the fish either disappear into the abyss…or you hook up…with theFalse Albacore! Now, I know it doesn’t mean much for a three weightsporting, 18 inch trophy trout bragging, flip flop wearing mountainkid to comment on fighting a False Albacore…but you can’t arguewith the stats. When you connect with the “Albie”, your tied into oneof the fastest fish on the planet…averaging 75% muscle and clockingin at nearly 40 mph. One of the few warm blooded fish, thesetorpedos have retractable dorsal fins that allow them to obtainspeeds that make other saltwater speedsters look like finless trout-tards from the local hatchery. Ok, you get it, they’re fast. Butthere is more to the Albie than its speed. The chaotic, slashing,top water burst…frantic bait sprays…and just the sound of fishcutting through water…is enough to tantalize anyone’s senses. Attimes the feeding fish push so close to the boat and the carnagebecomes so intense that bait are actually thrust onto the floor of theboat, where they thrash wildly in a state of panic…it is momentslike 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 arebeautiful and the reels are screaming nicely, but what really standsout while reviewing the shots is the unity between the group of fishermen.Between hookups and running to busting fish, people are laughing andhigh-fiving, swearing and telling jokes. It reinforces the notionthat the catching is just a minor part of the fishing experience. Ifeel fortunate to be part of the crew.