This plugging catch of a lifetime story originally ran in the Hawaii Fishing News, July 2015 edition. The author Gary Soma, aka @sakana_sniper on IG, gave permission to run this on Hawaii Nearshore Fishing, for those who may have missed it the first time. Enjoy!

At 6 O’clock on a midweek morning, I got a text from Kaimi reporting that the conditions were prime for a late afternoon plugging sesh. We had just finished a batch of experimental lures we’ve refined over the last year, and I had just finished wrapping a factory sample of our 8’6” Medium Heavy Popping Rod. This would be our chance to give them a trial by fire. The variable winds made work miserable and I couldn’t wait to punch out and get on the water. As soon as the clock struck 4, I was out like trout! Once home I quickly gathered all the necessary equipment and headed out to gas up. On the way, I got a call from Paul saying he’d be joining us but got held up at work, so he’d be a little late.

After launching the Whaler, Kaimi and I decided to bust out the light tackle for a Papio hunt. We cruised to one of my spots that I’ve nicknamed “Papio Pass,” which usually holds a good size pile of whites. Just like we hoped, school was in session and they were looking for a fight. On Kaimi’s first cast he hooked a good size fish with his bubble and grub rig. After a great fight Kaimi landed the Omilu and we both took a moment to admire the beautiful two pounder’s electric blue, neon green and lemon yellow hues before gently releasing it. We always let the first fish of the day go for good luck, because as everyone knows, a little luck can go a long way when fishing.

Next it was my turn to get on the board. Soon after my lure hit the water on my third cast, something decided to annihilate my 3 ½ inch Yo-Zuri Sashimi 3D Popper. I fought the bugger for around 5 minutes and the white ended up weighing around 3 pounds. The “Scrap and Release” action was awesome that afternoon and we managed to land half a dozen Papio before it was time to scoop Paul up. With the tide rising, I couldn’t wait to see what the big game spots had in store for us.

On our way to the “Proving Grounds” we readied our new weapons for battle. I hadn’t had time to properly connect my 100# braid to my 150# mono leader so I went with the second best option tying a double palomar knot to connect my braid to a heavy duty swivel and palomar knots to connect my leader to my lure. This knot is my go to knot and has proven to be bullet proof when tied correctly. On Paul’s rod, our newest prototype, he had tied an FG knot linking his 80# braided line to 8 feet of 150# mono leader.

Upon arrival at the Proving Grounds we all commented on how epic the conditions were and the anticipation of action was as thick as the voggy Kona wind air. I was the first one with his lure in the water with no takers, but it usually takes a couple retrieves to wake the big boys up. With the commotion of three lures splashing and splashing it didn’t take them long to hear the ringing of the dinner bell. On my fourth I cast really leaned into one and sent my 6 oz. prototype popper on a first class trip. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The line took forever to float down to the slick cobalt surface and I slowly picked up the slack. Once the line came tight I up jerked my rod and made a perfect pop sending a shower of liquid fire set ablaze by the setting sun. My next jerk created a textbook chug sending a bellowing “boop” resonating to the depths. Just as I was about to follow up with another pop a large shiny submarine half breached, creating a ten foot radius of foamy wash followed by a thunder clap of a tail slap. All I could do was hold onto my rod with a death grip. The fish immediately dove with all of its might as I desperately struggled to get the butt of the rod into my fighting belt. Luckily the fish took a half second break in between runs allowing me to get my rod into its fighting position. I tried my best to slow the fish down by turning up the drag, but my feeble attempts failed miserably. On its second blistering dash the fish managed to find the reef, and my punishment came to an abrupt end. The release of pressure sent me reeling back and fortunately the center console saved me from taking a plunge over the opposite side of the boat. The feeling reminded me of when the opposing team released the rope in a match of tug of war. With my tail between my legs I retrieved my line minus my swivel, leader and defiled lure with about ten feet of the end of my 100 pound braid showing sure signs of being cut off by the jagged ledges below. This first round had gone to the heavy-weights.

An Ulua strike is about the only thing that can get my heart to jump out of my chest. Every blow up never fails to catch me by surprise and there’s nothing that cures the fatigue of throwing a 6 oz. lure a hundred times better than that. Based on the strike, boil and run, we estimated the fish I had just lost to be at least 80 pounds. Even though I took some cracks I readied my gear for the next fight.

The sun was fading behind the Koolaus when the bell rang signaling the start of round two. I was casting off the bow so I was first to get my lure into the zone directly above the Ulua mansion. Every bit of my attention was on my lure and it was as if it was an extension of me. I took up the slack in my line as my lure surfed down the face of the swell. I gently twitched my rod trying my best not to jump and tumble the lure which could tangle my barbless 4/0 trebles around my leader, ruining a perfect cast. As my popper began its uphill ascent I popped with full force creating the ideal series of pops. Nearing the apex of the wave my lure duck dove through the swell and I was startled by a Titanium Ulua side slashing with murderous intentions aimed at its next victim. With deadly precision the fish smashed my popper and plunged downwards shaking its head with its brand new chew toy tightly gripped in its jaws. This pitbull of the sea surely had motives of hanging another lure on its wall of trophies but I was not about to let one more of our home lathed lures suffer the same cruel fate as his brother did minutes earlier. I forced the butt of the rod into my gimbal and locked the drag down. The added pressure only seemed to enrage the Titanium Ulua and its burst of power caught me off guard,  nearly jerking me overboard. Luckily still dry I regained my fighting stance, feet staggered with hands locked high on the rod. The last bits of sunlight were vanishing quickly and I knew I would soon be fighting with the lights out. Luckily Paul was on top of things and gave me an assist by placing my headlamp on, helping me to be as safe as possible. While I exchanged blows with the Titanium Ulua, Paul decided to swap out his lure for one of our experimental nocturnal prototypes for Kaimi to sample. With the fish still diving, I decided to try and turn his head with some heavy upward jerks. I slowed its momentum and thought I had my opponent on the ropes but playing possum the Ulua’s next sprint literally forced me to take a knee. My line was straight down and each inch of line gained was back breaking. Amazingly I endured the barrage and finally got to see color about 20 minutes into the battle with the aide of Paul’s 300 lumen headlamp. About a minute later Paul had the fishes tail in his grasp and lifted it over the gunwale. Once in the boat we realized why the fish fought so hard. It was foul hooked with the front barbless treble lodged in the collar area under the gill plate, unfortunately piercing several gills. Once I removed the hooks the fish began to bleed out and I could tell it was in too bad of shape for a release. I reluctantly dispatched the fish and put it in the cooler. Round two was one to remember.

As I shut the lid of the ice chest I heard a tiny splash behind the boat. With my headlamp I searched the boat and was surprised by a shout of “Hanapaa!” Kaimi was hooked up on his first cast! I immediately put the fighting belt around his waist as the beast ripped line full steam ahead. Kaimi made his way to the bow and I did my best to clean the deck of the blood and slime from the previous fish. Kaimi tried to stop the monster from running home but its charge was one of those freight train screemahs. Paul was right beside Kaimi and told him to brace himself because Paul was about to turn up the drag to the max. Paul coached Kaimi and urged him to jerk the rod to attempt to turn the brutes head. Fortunately Paul’s tactics paired with Kaimi’s strength succeeded in turning the fish and it detoured towards deeper waters with us in tow. The bend in our newest rod was a sight to see. The way it shouldered the burden of whatever was on the end of Kaimi’s line was simply beautiful. I wanted to see what this rod was capable of and yelled to Kaimi, “Boost! Boost Um!!!” Kaimi’s efforts only seemed to aggravate the fish and its next dash for the deep was insane. The pressure was impossible to weather and Kaimi’s rod began to get closer and closer to the rail. I placed my hand between the rod and rail to prevent the rod from snapping in two. Kaimi tried cranking and said,” the reel is broken I can’t crank!” The reel he was using had a 6 to 1 gear ratio, so I told him,” you gotta boost, then crank! The reel no more torque!” Once he figured out how to gain line, the tug of war began. At this point I remember Kaimi saying,” What the hell did I get myself into!” Kaimi would gain 10 yards and the giant would steal 20 in return. The struggle was real! This back and forth punching and counter punching went on for the next 15 minutes. At that point the reel looked half empty so there was still quite a bit of work to be done. Every so often Paul and I would shout battle cries to Kaimi ordering him to keep the line tight and to BOOST! The strain on his back and arms were beginning to take its toll, mirrored by the looks of agony on Kaimi’s face. I told Kaimi to move the fight to the rear bench to alleviate some of the strain on his back. The seated position was also a safer alternative with darkness upon us and his strength fading. Fueled by adrenaline the fight began to slowly tip in Kaimi’s favor and the leviathan started coming in. Once Kaimi gained a fair bit of line back we knew we’d soon see color. Every so often we’d shine our lights into the midnight blue depths as Kaimi continued his give and take battle with the monstrosity on the end of his line.

I can honestly say that If I was the one doing all the heavy lifting I probably would have thrown in the towel by now, but Kaimi has the strength of a bull and the “Cojones” to match. If you’re curious about how it feels, grab a broom stick and tie a thirty pound dumbbell three feet from the tip and have someone push down on the tip every so often. Time yourself to see how long you last.

After a dozen peeks over the side of the boat we finally saw something silver down deep and yelled, “Ulua! Boost! Bring Um Up!!!” The beast had other ideas. Startled by the alien lights above it went on another blistering tear. I again had to cushion the rod from the rail with my hand, otherwise it would be “Sayonara!” Kaimi endured the run and had to pivot as the fish ran to the opposite side of the boat. Gaining line, the weight of the fish was more of a dead weight now. We knew the fish was coming to the surface this time. With Paul’s light penetrating into the abyss, we could see the sterling shape making its death circles on its way to the surface. When given the opportunity I planned on tail grabbing the Ulua. As we watched the beast’s ascent, the reflective shape kept growing and growing. When it finally surfaced I stood in shock stunned by the size of the fish. Paul yelled, “F@#&ING BEAST,” snapping me back to reality. I was not about to tail grab the giant and risk a dislocated shoulder should it decide to flick its tail. I yelled to Paul, “get the gaff!” and he scrambled to find it and eventually found it near the fuel tank. With surgical precision he sank the gaff in the behemoths gaping mouth and the cheering began. Kaimi had triumphed in the 30 minute Super Heavy Weight Main Event, giving him the Ulua Fighting Championship Belt.

On our first attempt Paul and I failed in lifting the titan into the boat but with Kaimi’s help we heaved its enormous head out of the water and slid its torso into the boat. Seeing the fishes length span from one side of my boat to the other I’m sure every curse word out there found its way out of our mouths. I quickly grabbed the measuring tape off my console and measured the fish from nose to fork. We couldn’t believe that the number under the center of the tail read 58 inches (147.3 cm). The fish was guaranteed to be over the hundred pound mark, every ulua fisherman’s dream catch. Several years ago I had landed an 80 pounder while spearfishing and this thing made that one look like a pan fry papio. Paul and I then assisted Kaimi in getting the fish on his lap for some quick photos before the release. After snapping some souvenir pics I gave Kaimi the green light for the release and Paul gave him a hand with sliding the fish back into the water. The momentum of the fish sent it five feet below the surface and we shared a round of fist bumps and “Chee Hoos!” Kaimi soon noticed that the fish had floated back to the surface and was on its side with no signs of life. Occasionally after a strenuous battle it takes a bit of reviving to help the fish recover. I started the boat and we guided the fish, flushing fresh ocean water through its gills for 5 minutes before Paul released it once again. The fish just floated again as it did before. We tried again but the mighty Gladiator had fought to its death. We were bummed that the fish had died, and looking back, the fish never kicked once after it surfaced. The great champion had likely perished on its last ditch run for the reef. We took solace in knowing that the fish would be feeding our families and friends for weeks to come.

Out of curiosity we decided to get the fish weighed before we cut it up the following day. At Nanko’s Fishing Supply we weighed the smaller of the two first. It weighed a solid 43 pounds which was much heavier than our closest guess. It’s funny how small it looked sitting next to Gladiator. Next it was time to weigh in Gladiator, with all three of us struggling to get the Ulua’s tail rope onto the hook of the scale. Once the behemoth was fully supported, our eyes instantly found the digital screen, with mine nearly popping out of my head. The certified scale read 130.1 pounds, a true colossus. I never would have imagined that we would land an Ulua over a hundred pounds, yet alone one that weighed a hundred thirty. After weighing the fish I made a Gyotaku of Kaimi’s catch of a lifetime. Hearing the story is one thing but seeing the true size of Gladiator immortalized on rice paper leaves most speechless.

After printing the fish, we quartered the pair of Uluas with the majority of the meat going into a cooler for an icy bath in my secret marinade. After a two day soak I smoked the strips low and slow for at least four hours. Everyone can’t seem to get enough of the stuff and by the time it comes out of the smoker all bags are always spoken for.

When recounting our greatest fishing tale, people still find it hard to believe that Gladiator was landed on an eight foot six, medium heavy popping rod and a budget spinning reel. With this type of tackle we are clearly underdogs when brawling with large Ulua, but that’s what makes this type of fishing so challenging, exciting, and ultimately rewarding when you do land that one fish after losing countless others. All out scraps with the monarchs of our Hawaiian reefs is what we live for. For us its all about living the Plug Life.