HALIBUT WATER SKIING

By Eric Morris

Every once in a while I witness something so unusual that people refuse to believe it ever happened. Depending on the magnitude of the story, I have occasionally been greeted with less than full credence. Some people have even expressed downright skepticism. I soon found that a photograph is invaluable proof, especially if the subject is about a diver landing a big fish. And since I have the picture to back up this story, read on and you will learn how it's possible to water ski behind a halibut. The Strait of Juan de Fuca lies to the northwest of Seattle and contains some of the best diving spots in the state of Washington. Thirteen miles west of the city of Port Angeles is a picturesque bay named Crescent Beach. This bay is quite large, very shallow and offers excellent protection from all weather. With several shipwrecks located nearby, great campgrounds available, and an abundance of marine life, Crescent Beach was for many years a gathering point for diving activities. During the seventies a private sport fishing operation was set up in the bay. Part of this facility included an extremely long, floating dock which extended a couple hundred yards out into the bay. The narrow wood dock was home to a fleet of rental boats used by fishermen. The floating dock provided boaters moorage and access for supplies from a little store located on the beach. It was also a useful walkway for divers to board boats heading out to explore the nearby wreck of the Diamond Knot. I was using the conveniences of the dock one day in 1973 along with twenty or so other divers bent on a visit to the Knot. It was a hot summer day, the water was calm and the diving was fantastic. On our return to Crescent Bay, the charter boat had tied up alongside the dock to disgorge her passengers. The divers were packing their gear down the dock and returning to their cars. I’d already made one trip and was returning to the boat to get the last of my gear. Droves of sport fishermen and tourists wandered the scene. Up and down the dock were tied dozens of small fishing boats. It was a busy day. One diver had stopped at a fish cleaning station about midway down the dock to fillet his catch of fish. As the young man dropped a fish carcass into the shallow water, he was stunned to see a huge halibut rise to the surface and suck in the remains of the dead fish. The halibut looked as big as a full sheet of plywood and just as flat. It settled down on the bottom in just six feet of water and began munching on other fish guts scattered in the area. The diver, clad in his wetsuit, sprinted down the dock, grabbed another diver’s mask and speargun and returned to the cleaning station. The halibut was still there, enjoying the all-it-could-eat buffet. The diver slid silently off the dock and glided a few feet over to the halibut. Floating right above it, he fired into the halibut's head. The big fish didn’t move. It simply continued eating fish guts as though being speared was a minor inconvenience. Frantic with tension, the diver got out of the water and found another speargun, all the while yelling at his friends about the big fish. His buddies assumed the diver was just acting out a spoof or scam and pretty much ignored him. Cocking the new speargun, he got back in the water. The halibut was still eating gutted fish, with the spearshaft sticking out of its head like a TV antenna. The diver got much closer on this approach and pulled the trigger. The second spearshaft punched deep into the big fish’s head. This time the reaction was more than the diver anticipated. The monster fish bolted for open water. The diver was jerked forward and pulled behind the halibut with the speed of a water skier who has yelled "Hit it!" The water flowing past was strong enough to park the diver’s mask neatly around his neck. Meanwhile, I was walking down the long floating dock. People began shouting and pointing to something splashing in the water. Others started pushing past me, wanting to get closer to the dramatics. I found myself running after them, trying to figure out what was going on. Soon I was perpendicular to the action and could make out a diver being towed through the water behind some huge, dark shape. For a moment I could not imagine what creature could tow a diver so fast. On the next circuit, I finally got a good glimpse of the beast beneath the surface. It was a halibut. A very big halibut. And it powered right past the cheerleaders on the dock, pulling the half-submerged diver behind it. It occurred to me that the person might almost become a bare-foot water skier if he could just get his feet pointing the right direction. Instead, he hung gamely onto the gun handle, looking for all the world like a water skier who, after falling, tries stupidly to hang onto the tow handle. The halibut rose to the surface, its wide body churning out horsepower that an Evinrude would have envied. The mighty fish steamed towards open water with such power and velocity that witnesses believed our hero was on his way to Davey Jones’s locker, departing much the same way as Captain Ahab had with Moby Dick. Then, for some obscure reason known only to the halibut, it altered course and began swimming in circles just off the dock, thus temporarily saving the diver from a watery grave at sea. With a giant halibut towing a screaming diver in circles, there was commotion to be found on a scale usually reserved for the crashing of the Hindenburg blimp. Word of the battle spread quickly. So many people had gathered on the floating dock that the sections began to sink under the weight of humanity. Spectators to the event suddenly found themselves in ankle deep water with the dock submerging further. To heighten suspense, the halibut straightened out of a curve and made a run right at the sinking dock, packed with milling humans. The onlookers pressed back so quickly that a middle-aged lady felt herself tottering over the brink. She grabbed for the nearest support, a man standing in front of her, and ripped both pockets clean off his pants before she fell backwards into the water still holding the pockets. Now there was splashing on both sides of the dock! By now several other divers had retrieved their spearguns and jumped into the water to lend a hand. A couple of the first hunters on the scene, no doubt affected by the magnification of underwater objects, declined to fire when the opportunity arose. It took a particularly stalwart individual to clench his teeth and pull the trigger when the big fish charged past. And he received the same reward for his efforts as the first diver was enjoying – an unscheduled water-ski ride. With two divers now skiing behind it, the halibut continued swimming in large looping circles. Every time the halibut neared the dock, the spectators moved aside, afraid that the robust creature might choose to jump onto the barrier. Such abrupt movement among the packed observers caused considerable consternation to those people who were in the rear, straining for a good view. They were in danger of being backed off the float and unwillingly participating in the action. Meanwhile, the first diver's wetsuit boots had ballooned with water during the towing exercise and had come off, floating to the surface. Folks on the dock wondered what parts would be swept off next. Both divers had quit yelling, far too occupied trying to hold their breaths and hang on. Around and around the three contestants went. It had turned into a battle of endurance. A murmur swept the crowd of onlookers as they realized that at last the fish was weakening. Its laps were taking longer and longer. Gradually the fish slowed down enough for the divers to counter its power. The two men no longer were gasping for air, but could hold their heads above water and yell for help. Other men joined the fray and soon a cluster of divers, like Lilliputians hauling on Gulliver, muscled the fish over to the dock where other men gaffed it. Half a dozen strong backs pulled the fish out of the water and onto the wooden decking. The magnificent halibut looked up at its conquerors through darkening, crossed eyes...That diver’s name was Chris Mobley, and I still have the photograph of him standing beside the 176-pound halibut. I keep the picture for one very useful purpose. Whenever someone tells me they don’t believe the story, I simply show them the photograph. Because sometimes a man really can water-ski behind a halibut.