A Thought on Attention to Detail … from a Fisherman

One of my passions is fishing. It has been an enduring, personal pursuit since as far back as I can remember. Salmon in the Pacific Northwest, Striped Bass off New England’s rugged shores, and Yellowfin Tuna in the warm eddies of the Atlantic’s Gulf Stream … all personal favorites over various stretches of life’s journey.

Today, as I was tying fishing rigs in preparation for an upcoming tuna tournament, I realized the high level of attention to detail that I placed into each rig and took note of how effortless it seemed. I was selective in choosing the best brand of fluorocarbon leader, matching its strength to the size of the lure it was meant to hold, while also considering its diameter in order to achieve optimum swimming effect. I burned the bitter ends of the leader to ensure that there was absolutely no give through the crimped connections when a monster Bigeye, Blue or Yellowfin Tuna took charge during the initial stages of battle. I estimated the right size of weight and hook, considering the bait size we would likely want to use for the Gulf Stream in July, and the range of trolling speeds we might employ.

When I tie these rigs, I am intently focused. I envision them in the water. I think about where they should settle respective to the prop-wash of our boat, whether on the long rigger line alone an unafraid, on the short corner right in the wash, or in the long shotgun position way, way back. How did I envision this re-creation of nature which I had just tied?  Swimming smoothly … no roll … lighter colors juxtaposed between the bright sun and dark blue depths, and the darker lures in close so as to be seen through the fog of the boat's wake. True running lures and baits, covering the colored spectrum to create a tuna fish’s wonderland of enticements, coaxing them up from the deep … the stuff of a tuna fisherman’s dreams. And here – as well as out there – is where the big picture merges with the fine details that go into its planning. All really become one.

I might conclude that passion – doing what I love – makes attention to detail seem effortless. But I know better.

I recall all those years without fish, of dreaming and not catching. Of busted engines 20 miles offshore, limping home. Of getting beat up by Mother Nature trying to get out to where the fish were, wondering if her wrath was personally intended for me alone. Then I recalled all of the tough lessons, without which I would likely pay less attention to how I tied my rigs today.   

Some of those lessons were heartbreaking. A few years ago when I lost a large Yellowfin after a 45 minute struggle that left my arms and back breaking, I remember saying to my friend, “I should probably cry and just get it all out.” He responded, “I won’t blame you if you do. I would probably do exactly that.” 

Remembering this as I tie another leader today and snug down on the crimp connecting the line to the lead swivel … my eyes are intently focused, my hands gauging in their feel. This crimp must be perfect … not too tight so as to bite into the fluorocarbon line, and not too loose so as not to hold the pull of a raging-mad underwater giant.

I contemplated this all today, tying tuna rigs. The beauty and the power … of the creation before me, and of the silvery blue ocean Goliath it is intended for. The detail that went into this rig to ensure that once hooked, the thing that connected us would hold fast and true. And I recognized what was behind the seeming effortlessness in the attention to detail required: passion for fishing certainly factored; but, this level of focus had also been learned and earned. 

Now here’s to July, and a big fish.