Forsaken again by the weather gods. Northerlies every second day, so it seemed. The days in between were good but the uncertain outlook ensured we stayed at the Swains. Saumarez was the goal, the Swains aren't a bad consolation prize, some of our best fish have come from there.

I had been looking forward to this trip with a mixture of eagerness and trepidation. Being a new boat and crew, and a mainly new group of guys I hoped there would be no problems and everyone would get along well. Then as the date approached, forecasts of 25-33 knot southeasterlies compounded my concerns.

The GT’s must have had a mid-term exam coming up, because they were certainly schooling up beneath the mothership (I’m on fire with the puns!!). In fact I managed to get one to the boat myself that night, even though I had to frantically apply some “rag drag” to the reel to help slow Trevor down and eventually turn him without burning my thumbs completely off on the braided spool (NB. Sinesy, a Trinidad would have totally smoked that fish without the need for such an emergency measures.) Even though I’m only a scrawny little prick, this fish felt pretty heavy and might have nudged 60 pounds on a dodgey set of scales.