When I opened the old Duyfken logbook to the year 1981, memories of that wondrous season came rushing back. After a few minutes of reading my illegible scrawl that filled the yellowing pages of the small, hardcover book, I was transported back 25 years to one of the most incredible fishing adventures anyone has ever had anywhere — ever!

That year Laurie Wright, Doug Haigh and I experienced a season that would live with us forever. Events from the Duyfken's 1981 season became legendary in the annals of Australia's Great Barrier Reef — some because of the things we accomplished and others because of our magnificent failures. Many of the experiences would become the source of tales that grew larger with each retelling. But there really was no reason to exaggerate anything about the tremendous fishing we were all so fortunate to enjoy.

17 Sept.: R-0 20-25 knots SE — sloppy as hell — started 2X or 0 with Al & Jill Hooper — ran to almost Opal then fished Nth of Linden Bank to Agincourt Reef, Fished 6# and 12# — no fish, but Bristow got 882 at Opal

The 17th of September marks the first log entry for 1981. We did not raise a single marlin on day one of the epic season, but the big fish were there. Capt. Peter Bristow caught a nice one for his charter on Avalon.

In my log, I put down how many fish I see in the "R" column. If we raised a bunch of five and only one bit, I put a "5" in the raised column. Same thing if I found them tailing. Two doubles, a single and a triple found surfing big seas is R8, even if none bite. I can figure correlations among things like moon phase, tides and wind strength depending on how many fish we find each day. Wind and current matter most. A "W" followed by a number meant the fish was weighed.
 Later, when I tried different hook shapes and drop-back times, I added a "B" column for how many fish actually bit. I never recorded hookups: They didn't do me any good unless we tagged or gaffed the fish. I want to know the catch-to-bite ratio.

A cancellation for the last two weeks in September sent us scrambling for a replacement charter right off the bat. The economy wasn't great that year, and several other top charter boats were also available in late September, making our chances of booking seem like the description of a famous cowboy and the Mother Superior — Slim and Nun!

We wound up fishing 6- and 12-pound test for two straight weeks because Wright, Haigh and I all agreed to offer Al and Jill Hooper double or nothing on the boat's charter fee (and thus our pay!) for a world record on either of the IGFA's two lightest line classes. If we managed to catch either of the Hoopers a record, Al would pay double the charter fee for the whole two weeks. If we did not get a world record, I would be out of pocket for the fuel bill, but we would not have to spend two unproductive weeks hanging around town, spending money on food and drink and chasing girls. We would live aboard the Hoopers' comfortable little mother ship, the Cheryl Ann, and get to fish for giant black marlin on the Great Barrier Reef for two extra weeks. We took the job, confident that we'd be setting that record and getting paid double wages!

Due to a rule change, 1981 turned out to be the first and only year in which 30 feet of leader was legal on all line classes under 80-pound test. (See "The Worst Mistake," page 202.) During the previous 10 years we had sought, caught and often lost hundreds of marlin on light tackle. We had taken a number of records ranging from the Aussie all-tackle 1,442-pound giant to smaller marlin on light line, including an 816-pound men's world record for Pat Gay on 30-pound and two world records on 12 and 20 for John Pelton.

For several weeks each season we baited and switched anything under 800 pounds. We only used heavy tackle on marlin that were accidentally hooked when we were too slow to get the 130s away from fish we raised that were less than monster-size — or when a really big one rose to the baits.

We could not begin to remember all the ones we had lost, but we did remember a pattern. Time after time snap swivels stayed mere inches away from gloved hands. There were many instances when the mate could almost reach the fish with an 8-foot flying gaff, but a wrap of leader around the fish's body meant the wire remained out of reach. The short 15 feet of wire we were allowed to use on light tackle beat us, and gave the fish a winning edge time and again.

This year would be different! We had 30 feet of wire to work with. It would be much easier to get hold of the .040-inch-diameter galvanized fencing wire. We expected some wild action when we got the leader on big, green black marlin, but we would win our bet! Or so we thought.

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