After a brief run he slid the lever of the drag to the strike position and the sea erupted...a seven foot fish leaped  skyward...

By Mike Melchionne

Recently I was fortunate enough to meet a "shark man" who knew what he was looking for with the weather, wind and offshore conditions. What he lacked was a first mate to keep him company...and help with the work! Little did he realize when he asked me if I wanted to go "sharkin'?"...that I'd never been! That was two years ago and since then we've been out 4-5 times. Yes, we caught some sharks...in fact, probably 10-12 altogether. They've been mostly blue sharks with an occasional dusky mixed in. One day we were treated to a fabulous performance by a 200 lb. thresher shark beating up a school of bunker. However, the one fish I hadn't caught, let alone seen, is the elusive Mako shark.

As anyone who is learning anything new, I have learned that shark fishing is just not a fun day out on the water, it’s a production! It has an itinerary, a check list, a responsibility to one’s self and their quarry.

Pulling up to the dock at 4:40 am my headlights were still on as another set rounded the corner. I was greeted by an enthusiastic  Ernie, the “shark man”. "Just like the weatherman said, it’s  gonna be a good one..." is all he said as he dropped the tailgate.

"What are you going for... a week?", I joked. I guess it was a little too early 'cause Ernie shot right back with his mentoring, “You forget something when you get out there, and it’ll do you no good in your garage!" By the time we unloaded both trucks, I was wondering just where we were going to put all the gear. Just then “Capt. Fred” pulled up and questioned, "Where are you gonna put all that stuff?!" Well, everything did finally fit. Five tuna sticks with 5/0 reels. All spooled with 80 lb. mono, set at 22lb drags. Four coolers, a 120 quart filled with ice, 1 filled with rigs, charts, hooks  etc., one with fresh bluefish (for bait) and fresh bunker (for chum), and finally, the last one for food and beverage. Personal gear, rain gear, etc. got stored down below.

Our destination was 38 miles SE of Barnegat Inlet. We hit the inlet, set the course and dealt with an occasional swell that made us back off the throttle. Just shy of two hours later, the work began. The nice thing about fishing with experienced people is no matter what job you inherit (and everyone has one) they get done quickly and efficiently.  The chum was deployed, the chunks were cut, the fresh bluefish were filleted (with the ends tapered to prevent spinning in the water) and the lines staggered for distant and depth. Most had floats, but one did not.  And the waiting game was on. 

As any fisherman knows when you’re not catching fish, you’re still fishing! This is the time when one reaches deep into their soul and thinks of anything to break the boredom, including breaking each other’s chops! And break we did. I told my buddies if I didn't see a real mako in the flesh this trip, it was going to be hard to get me out there again. All in good fun, of course. But the wait was short and within 45 minutes the drag on rod #2 started screaming, the hook was set and before I knew it someone was putting a belt around my waist with a, "You’re up Mikie!" Well, alright then! (Little did I know that this pattern was going to continue for the first three fish!) Two blue sharks and one dusky later I was on to their antics! So when the fourth fish took the bait I was one step ahead of my partners. I grabbed the belt and put it around “Capt. Fred’s” waist. I couldn’t really hear what he was saying about his bad shoulder, I just remember telling him to suck it up! He quickly subdued a nice blue shark and then the wait began.

The sun was high by now and the constant rocking motion took its toll and a lull in the fishing was making this crew member itchy. After debating a move with the captain, Ernie the "Sharkman" grabbed the chart, pointed to a spot about ten miles away, and the move was on. The boat made short work of the distance as the seas had laid down a bit and within 35 minutes were set up and antsy with anticipation. When the drag started clicking I grabbed the belt and you guessed, put it on “Capt. Fred’s” waist. Once again he made short work of a 90 lb. dusky.

Well after that, the wait started getting longer, the action was few and far between, the bite had died off and Ernie the “Sharkman” yelled back to me, “put more chum in the water”! And I did. Now I can’t swear to it but I thought I heard a familiar tune in my head, dun-dun, dun-dun, then dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-dun, and just then the Capt. yelled "Shark!"

And shark it was, unlike any shark fin I had ever seen since targeting a mako became my quest. A dark stubby, wide dorsal fin was about 150 yards from the bow headed in the wrong direction! Then...nothing!  Chum, you want chum? Well chum I did, and chunk everything we had. Bunker, mackerel, bluefish and a special concoction of blood and guts I had been saving for this very moment. Thirty minutes of anticipation was followed by the # 4 rod losing drag fast! Capt. Fred was standing right there, so he instinctively grabbed the rod and set the hook.

About 50 yards from the boat a five foot fish jumped out of the water like a largemouth bass. The "Sharkman" exclaimed “Mako”! The chaos began...reeling in the other rods to clear passage for the angler. We quickly realized that it wasn’t a keeper, but a “MAKO” it was. Just as we grabbed the leader wondering how we were going to dislodge the hook from the razor sharp teeth, the hook somehow came loose and the fish swam straight down! It was definitely not the fish we had seen off the bow. But a Mako is a Mako!

"Well there’s your Mako, Mike. Guess you have to come out next time conditions are good..."

" What?" I chimed back. "We didn’t land that fish...it got off." Well, you would have thought I insulted someone’s mother. "We touched the leader", my fishing comrades argued, "That counts the same as a catch!" And actually, that was good enough for me. I was tired and suggested that it was time. But the captain and the "Sharkman" both told me we would go when all the bait was gone. So, once again, chum and chunk I did. Then, even more chunks and chum.

Ernie, the “Sharkman” isn’t allowed to go shark fishing alone. Not that one should of course. Due to some health issues, his wife had given him strict orders... “Don’t you reel in any fish, you’re playing Russian roulette with your heart!”  And Ernie, being the devoted husband, listens to his little woman, (most of the time). Just when the chunks were about gone and we were all pretty much finished for the day, the longest line started screaming! Then, lo and behold the “Sharkman” was standing right next to it. After a brief run he slid the lever of the drag to the strike position and the sea erupted...a seven foot fish leaped  skyward and Ernie calmy uttered “MAKO”!

I grabbed the belt, looked at the Capt., walked forward and placed the belt around the “Sharkman's” waist. I think my words were, “You can tell her if you want, but I’ll never say a word.” His words of protest went unheard as he had his job now and the crew had theirs.

The Captain and I cleared all the lines.  Occasionally I would look forward and saw a man in his element expertly taking his time, inching our elusive quarry closer to the boat. Without any prearranged assignments, the Captain grabbed the big gaff, so I uncased the single shot, 20 gauge shot gun. I put one shell in my pocket. We knew the fight was far from over and the excitement continued to grow. Each time the shark came closer to the boat everyone was shouting orders. I have to admit that I was so focused on my job to dispatch this fish safely, that I can't even recall their words!

On the Mako's third trip toward the boat I realized that the moment had arrived.  At 20 yards on a slight angle to the stern I took the shell out of my pocket, placed it in the chamber and closed the breech. At eleven yards I thought “This is it”... There were yells and screams, but I couldn’t tell you what everyone was saying. I instinctively cocked the hammer, swung with the fish and at seven yards the gun went off. All I heard was screaming..."you got 'em, you got 'em!" Well, hell, that was my job...wasn't it?

The captain put the gaff through the mako's chin and out the top of the head to cement the deal. I grabbed the tail rope tied it off to a cleat and realized “WE” had succeeded in one of the most memorable fishing days in my life. After gutting the fish and packing it with ice we started our trek home. Exhausted, but exhilarated. We talked about the day’s events. The pilot whale in our slick, the numerous sea turtles and all the birds we couldn’t collectively identify. But my favorite topic was how we were going to enjoy this majestic and mystical fish at the dinner table. But more on that in another article.

As we pulled into port about 6:50 PM, our reception party consisted of family, relatives and neighbors. It may not have been as big as "Jaws", but for a crew of local anglers, that 137 lb. mako shark may just as well have been.

New Jersey takes a lot of heat from people all over the country, but as "Jersey Boys", born and bred, we know it doesn’t get much better than the world class opportunities we have just a short distance from all the daily chaos! If you've got the desire to experience world class fishing and thrills, talk to your buddies and get out offshore...or find a top flight shark fishing charter right here in "Jersey". You might just find some New Jersey "Mako Mania" to be the most exciting fishing experience of your life!