Slingin Steel On The Louisiana Oil Rigs

By: Kevin Bruington – oceanrhino@gmail.com

I’ve heard many sensational stories over the years about the incredible spearfishing on the oil rigs off the coast of Louisiana. In August 2001, my southeastern sales rep Chad Barbay called and told me we had been invited to go spearfishing on the oil rigs off Grand Isle, Louisiana by a few of his dive buddies in the Git’Em dive club.

Chad reps the Southeastern U.S. for my company Spearfishing Specialties. We manufacture and distribute Sea Hornet USA spearguns throughout North America. Chad lived in Louisiana for many years before moving to Orlando, Florida. Chad acquired most of his spearfishing experience diving on the rigs.

I have been a commercial spearfisherman for the better part of 30 years and I have made somewhere around 5000 spearfishing dives (on scuba ) off the west coast of Florida in the Northeastern Gulf of Mexico. Many of these dives were on wrecks in the 140ft. plus range and I have also made lots of dives on the Airforce towers that rise about 150ft. out of the water like the oil rigs do.

In spite of all this experience, I found myself a little intimidated by the thought of actually dropping down on an oil rig that was in 600 feet of water. I have seen the bottom on just about every dive I have ever made and I couldn’t get the thought out of my head that the first big fish I shot might turn his head straight down and drag me into oblivion. My fears were justified because I know how I am, and there is absolutely no way I would let go of my speargun. Especially if there was a 90lb grouper thrashing on the other end!

We picked a date, Monday September 10th, 2001. Chad said I could bring a friend so I called my dive buddy Harvey Gortner. Harvey and I are partners in a 34ft commercial spearfishing boat called “Double Vision”. Harvey has made hundreds of spearfishing dives with me on our boat and I figured he might be up for a trip to the Louisiana oil rigs. However, he has never been a big fan of deep diving. His comfort zone is about 100 to 120ft.

Harvey asked a few questions about the trip and them came the inevitable one. . . Just how deep are these rigs? I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth so I managed to dance around the issue by simply saying ” I think they’re pretty deep”. But I assured him that he didn’t have to go to the bottom to shoot some nice fish and that seemed to appease him at least for the time being.

I was relatively certain the issue would come up again before we actually got to Grand Isle. I was just hoping he would wait until we were well on our way there so it would be too late for him to chicken out once he found out the truth. We were almost to Carrabelle, Florida when I finally decided to tell him about the 600ft. business. He immediately expressed the same concern I had about getting drug to the bottom. I told him I would just let go of the gun! Ha!

We stopped and spent the night with my good friend Harry Andrews at his marina in Carrabelle, Florida. The Moorings is a beautiful marina with motel rooms that are actually fully equipped condos. The Moorings has 140 wet slips and Harry runs the place smoother than a Swiss watch.

The Moorings is a great place to stay when traveling U.S. 98 east or west along the Florida Panhandle. They have everything you need to go spearfishing, air fills, nitrox, tank rentals, fuel, bait & ice. Oh, and by the way, in my opinion the best shallow water spearfishing in the world, but that’s a whole other article.

Harry had recently purchased a 36ft Newton dive boat made in Slidell, Louisiana and had it custom built as a 4 to 6 man commercial spearfishing boat. Harvey and I had been dying to see Harry’s new boat and this seemed like the perfect time to do it while also breaking up the long drive to Grand Isle.

The 36 Newton was everything we expected and more. Wow! what a spearfishing boat. Harry’s boat “Sandi Bottom” will be featured in an upcoming issue of Spearfishing Magazine’s “Captains Corner” if you would like to see the particulars. It is hands down the finest commercial spearfishing boat I have ever seen.

When you have spent as much time on the water as we have you get to where you really only want to go shooting with other divers who have a similar amount of experience. It’s kind of like a scratch golfer playing with a 22 handicapper. It only takes one Greenhorn to really mess up what should have been a really great day of diving.

It’s not that we are antisocial, but it can be very dangerous to take inexperienced divers out on commercial spearfishing trips and expose them to extremely advanced diving and spearfishing techniques they are not ready for. They will usually try to emulate what they see and they will probably end up getting hurt.

I expressed my concerns to Chad when he first asked me to go and he assured me that these guys in Grand Isle were the “real deal” and they certainly didn’t need no south Florida boys to baby sit em. Chad advised me to just get on the boat and stay out of their way. I believe his exact words were. . . “You don’t want to piss off no coon ass.” I didn’t know for sure what a coon ass was but I made it one of my primary goals on this trip to find out.

Harvey and I agreed to meet up with Chad and his dive buddy Greg on I-10 around the Alabama border. Greg does the Scuba Radio show in Orlando, Florida. We met up right on schedule at the Alabama border on Sunday September 9th about 2:00 PM. and we began following them to Grand Isle.

As we approached New Orleans Chad called me on my cell phone and advised us to stay close for the next couple of hours because we were going to take a little detour around New Orleans to avoid the afternoon traffic. We headed north and went all the way around Lake Ponchatrain. It seemed like we drove at least 100 miles out of our way to avoid New Orleans but we got to see some magnificent scenery in what appeared to be the heart of the Louisiana Bayou country.

Most of the highway from New Orleans, all the way around Lake Ponchatrain and down to Grand Isle was bridge. I remember thinking to myself how difficult it must have been to build all those miles of bridge in what seemed to be one of the most logistically difficult situations you can imagine. I don’t know what financial status the state of Louisiana is in, but if they are low on money it must be because they had to spend it all on their bridge system.

As we rounded Lake Ponchetrain and headed back south toward Grand Isle we drove through thousands of acres of sugar cane fields. It never occurred to me that Louisiana was known for sugar cane. I thought sugar cane was grown primarily in south Florida. Kirk Rhinehart, one of the divers we dove the oil rigs with told me that’s why they call that football stadium the Sugar Bowl. I just never associated the name Sugar Bowl with sugar cane for some reason.

We drove through lots of small towns with French sounding names like, Larose, Galliano, Baton Rouge and Fourchon. I knew we were getting close to the Gulf of Mexico when we started seeing huge tug boats and mud boats moored in the narrow canals lining the road. There were also many barges piled high with thick grey mud. The mud is used somehow in the drilling process on the oil rigs.

We finally arrived just after dark in Grand Isle. Grand Isle is just about as far southeast as you can go in Louisiana. It seemed like we had driven most of the way back to Florida. We followed Chad into what appeared to be an old, rustic trailer park. There were at least a hundred or more older single wide mobile home type trailers in the park and all the streets were named after fish. Chad finally pulled up in front of one of the trailers and we drug our road weary bodies out of the vehicles.

We were greeted by Chad’s dive buddy 37 year old Toby Rabalais. Toby introduced us to Kirk Rhinehart age 34, Rick Kelly age 40, and Chuck Bardwell age 32. I immediately noticed that the walls of the trailer were covered with first place trophies and plaques that Toby and his crew had won in the local Spearfishing Rodeos. I felt kind of embarrassed as I stood there reading all the awards because it was abundantly clear to me that these guys were definitely not greenhorns.

I was desperately hoping that Chad wouldn’t spill the beans about the greenhorn thing because I really didn’t want these guys to know that I had even remotely questioned their experience. I knew I was going to have to bring my “A Game” to keep up with these guys and besides, I learned along time ago you don’t get on the wrong side off the guy that gets to decide which spots you are going to dive on. That is one of the first rules you should learn as a rookie spearfisherman!

We were all very hungry so we headed off to one of the local restaurants for some fine Louisiana seafood. We enjoyed a great meal as we broke the ice and swapped spearfishing stories. There is a common brotherhood that spearfisherman share among one another and Toby, Rick, Kirk, and Chuck made us feel like we were among friends.

We returned to the trailer or the “Camp” as Toby called it about 11: 00 PM and watched some of the great videos Toby and the guys had shot while diving on the rigs. They were great. Lots of big Cobia or Lemon Fish as they prefer to call them, huge American Red Snapper, fat Gag Grouper, and gear bustin Amberjack up to a hundred pounds or more. Watching those videos really got our juices flowing and I could tell I was ready to shoot something because my trigger finger was starting to twitch.

It was getting pretty late and we had to get up early. Toby kicked the air conditioner down to 65 degrees so we would be comfortable, and I could just about see my breath as I climbed into one of the 4 bunk beds in the back bedroom. It seemed like I had just shut my eyes when Toby hollered “Lets go get em boys.” I believe that’s how they got the name for their Git’Em dive club.

It was 6:30 am Monday September 10th 2001. I assumed that Toby’s call to arms was a cruel joke and I rolled over and tried to ignore him. A few minutes later Toby was at it again. By now the other guys were up and around and the smell of coffee brewing coaxed me to get up.

Within a few minutes there was a sense of anticipation in the air as we prepared our gear and loaded it into the boats. Kirk, Rick, Toby and myself would go in Rick’s 24ft Wellcraft and Chad, Greg, Chuck & Harvey would go in Chuck’s homemade 23ft. aluminum hull boat.

Chuck’s boat was a center console with a large Pelican type tank rack in the bow. Other than that it was wide open. It was made of thick marine grade aluminum and it looked very sturdy. It had a lot of room for a 23 footer. These Louisiana boys must have a little Viking blood in them as well because it seems like everyone there knows how to build a great boat. Rick’s Wellcraft was a walk around cuddy production model with a similar tank rack as Chuck’s boat, and a very large fish box that also served as a seat for two. Notice I said “fish box” not cooler.

I can usually tell how serious a spearfisherman is by the size of the fish box he has. You can’t put a 80lb Cobia or 100lb. Amberjack in a 186 qt. production cooler! The fish box on Rick’s boat would easily hold several of those big AJ’s and Cobia with plenty more room for Snapper and Grouper. As soon as I saw that big fish box I knew these “Bayou Boys” were some steel slingin’ rascals.

We trailered the boats down to the local ramp and launched them just after sunrise. There was a steady 15 knot breeze blowing out of the northeast but I knew the falling western sun would knock it down to about 2ft. later in the afternoon so I wasn’t too concerned.

We took off, and in just a few minutes we were racing cross the bay heading toward the Gulf. Two miles later the bay opened up to expose an incredible sight. There were oil rigs as far as I could see in every direction. They were right up close to shore and I could see the silhouettes of many more towering off in the distance. Kirk told me there are rigs out to about 150 miles offshore and there are around 3800 of them along the southeastern U.S. Wow! 3800 oil rigs, that’s a spearfisherman’s paradise!

Chuck and his crew were bounding along about a half mile off our port side as we cruised due south at about 24 knots. I thought we were going to meet up with Chuck’s boat at one of the rigs offshore and dive together all day. However, Chuck steered his boat off to the southeast and we never saw or talked to them again the rest of the day.

We continued south as Toby, Rick and Kirk debated which rig they wanted to dive first. We drove right by a lot of rigs and I wondered what made one any better than another. Other than the size of them they all looked pretty much the same to me. Kirk said that it depends on how much they have been fished and how close they are to shore. The rigs farther offshore get hit less, therefore more fish. Also the deeper you go, the bigger the fish.

I was snapping pictures of the oil rigs as we passed by, trying not to look too much like a tourist. There were single structures and there were many that had two, three or four tied together with what looked like small bridges joining them together. Most of them appeared to be at least 300 feet tall and they looked more like the shell of a skyscraper under construction than what I had envisioned an oil rig to look like.

A few of the rigs had a large flame shooting out the top of the structure. Kirk said the they do this to burn off some of the excess natural gas produced during the drilling process. It must be an incredible sight at night. Many of the larger rigs had helicopter landing pads to shuttle personnel and equipment to and from shore.

We passed by one rig that was very large about 25 miles offshore. It had a huge tanker ship pulled up to it with a large hose reaching down from the rig to the ship. Rick said they were transferring oil from the tanker to the rig. The rig would then pump the oil through a series of pipelines onto shore. The oil from that rig would end up at the United States Strategic Oil Reserve in Texas.

I asked Kirk if we were going to dive that rig and he said no, we can’t. The government does not allow any unauthorized vessels within a couple miles of that rig for national security reasons. Kirk said he knew some guys that drove up quickly one day and dropped a diver on the forbidden oil rig. They apparently couldn’t resist the temptation of diving on a “virgin” rig. The authorities were waiting for the guy when he surfaced and they immediately hauled him off to jail. Kirk didn’t say what happened to the guy but I doubt he ever dove that rig again.

Kirk said those guys were lucky they didn’t get their boat shot all to pieces by 50 caliber machine guns. I didn’t realize it at the time but what Kirk had just told me about national security would soon take on a whole new meaning for all of us. The next day would be Tuesday September 11th 2001.

Toby finally pulled the throttle back as we approached one of the single, plain looking rigs. Toby eased the boat up to the base of the rig and Kirk threw a rope around one of the legs and tied us off. It was sure nice not having to deal with anchoring on each spot. Tying off to the rig could get mighty dangerous when it gets rough, but these guys made it look easy.

Toby instructed Kirk and I to buddy up for the first dive so we anxiously suited up. I guess that’s what I really love most about spearfishing. No matter how much experience you have or how many dives you’ve made, there is always that restless sense of anticipation you get before a dive. Especially your first dive on an oil rig.

Kirk was shooting a Riffe Metal Tech gun with three 5/8″ dia. bands. There was three wraps of 3/32″ stainless cable fastened directly to the shaft and the gun, with no disconnect. The 3/8″ dia. shaft was equipped with a detachable speartip that appeared large enough to harpoon a small whale. Kirk said the tip was made by a guy named Reidell out of California.

I sheepishly asked him why he needed such a large tip and he replied in a somewhat macho tone: “Our style of spearfishing on the rigs is to hit em and hang on.” Kirk said he likes to refer to it as “Blunt Force Trauma”. I guess that’s why they call their spearfishing competitions a Rodeo instead of a Tournament. Kirk said that tip was the best detachable he had ever used, and no matter how big a fish he hit with it, once it went in it never pulled out. Next to a .223 caliber powerhead, that detachable tip was the most intimidating piece of gear I’ve ever seen on a speargun.

Kirk also had a rather thick piece of rope about 5ft. long attached to the butt end of his gun and a large stainless clip on the other end. Kirk said he uses the rope to tie a big fish off to the rig so the fish can fight itself out. Oh great, just what I needed to hear. I had a wad of butterflies in my stomach thinking about that “getting drug into oblivion” thing again. I almost asked him if he had a spare piece of rope!

The main reason I came to Louisiana was to get a first hand look at the style of spearfishing these guys were doing on the rigs and use the experience to help develop our Sea Hornet USA Speargun line to better suit their needs.

Chad knew I had a knack for developing new speargun ideas and there was no better way to get the exposure than actually getting in the water and shooting side by side with the experienced shooters. It was pretty obvious to me these guys were about as experienced as they get.

I was also seeing this as a golden opportunity to expose them to my style of spearfishing. A sort of “Cultural Exchange”. I knew the spearguns I used throughout my commercial spearfishing career were similar in anatomy but far different in the set up, rigging, and application. I have dove many wrecks and towers in my time and they are really not that different from oil rigs, other than the depth.

I was pretty sure I could shoot the same shaft & single loop line system I had always used on my commercial speargun, and I was about to find out. I could have rigged myself up a speargun similar to the one Kirk was using but it just wasn’t what I was used to diving with. I was heading into an unfamiliar environment and I figured I would have a greater chance of success just sticking with the equipment I was most comfortable with and relying on my 30 years of spearfishing experience to guide me.

If I was wrong and I got my gear all tore up, Toby and the guys would still be laughing at me come Christmas. I figured at the very least it would make for some good war stories back in Florida. It was a risk I just had to take.

Most spearfisherman who dive on structures like oil rigs tend to use “beefed up” detachable tips and shafts on their guns and most use at least three or four bands. The theory is, the bigger the prey the bigger the gear must be in order to hang onto the fish and minimize damage to the shaft and the spear tip. This has pretty much been the standard gear for this type of spearfishing since the 1960’s.

I have developed a much different style of spearfishing throughout my career. Although the average size of the fish we shoot in the Northeastern Gulf of Mexico are much smaller than those on the oil rigs, I have speared more than my share of big fish using the system I am about to describe.

My style is to strip the speargun down to the bare essentials. Use a shaft with as little hardware as possible, power it with only one or two bands (usually one), and use only enough line on the gun to reach the distance that one band will shoot. The idea is to gain durability by greatly reducing the complexity of the system. Then you counter the lack of size and mass with precision “kill shot” shooting.

Now I know that most of you reading this article, especially the ones in Louisiana are thinking, “This guys out of his mind”! But I assure you, as strange as this sounds it really does work when this speargun design is combined with proper mental application.

If you shoot a 90lb. Amberjack in the gill plate with this setup you are gonna get your ass kicked! However, you can stone that same fish dead with something as small as an ice pick if you hit him in just the right place at just the right angle. With emphasis on the angle!

My friend Paul Renner currently shoots a Sea Hornet USA Commercial speargun. Paul is the current world record holder on scuba for Black Grouper at 122lbs. Paul speared the fish in 190 feet of water using a 60″ freeshaft and one 24″ band. Paul told me he hit the fish right in the “sweet spot” and stoned him dead! Paul and his dive buddy Gerry Rice routinely spear grouper in the 50 to 90 lb. range using this simple but very effective equipment.

I decided to use a 52″ Commercial gun made out of a wood called “Paulope”. It is a very dense wood with characteristics similar to Teak and Paduke. The only difference is Paulope wood has slightly negative bouancy in the water. The gun does not float when the shaft is out of the gun. Paulope is very hard, extremely straight and handles gracefully in the water when used with one shaft. Paulope is a little too heavy when you add a second shaft to the gun.

The rigging and set up of my speargun was just about the opposite of Kirk’s Riffe. I had a 5/16″ dia. 60″ lineshaft rigged with a Super Slide Ring and one 3″ barb attached directly to the shaft. No speartip. The point of the shaft had a 5/16″ threaded rock point. This shaft has very low drag and does not require multiple bands to get good penetration.

The shaft is basically a Freeshaft with a slide ring. We call this a “Stinger” Lineshaft. The shaft was powered by one 24″ x 5/8″ band. I did have a second band on the gun if I really needed it but I never did. The shaft was secured to the gun with a single wrap of 750lb. monofilament approximately 8ft. in length and attached to the gun with a brass disconnect clip for safety reasons if necessary.

Remember, I said there was no way I was going to let go of my speargun, I never said I wouldn’t let go of the shaft! You rookies should take special note of this feature. A quick disconnect on any lineshaft could save your life, especially when diving on an oil rig.

Fixed or hardwired cable systems like the one Kirk was using should only be used by the most experienced shooters, and you must be willing to let go of the gun if it becomes a safety issue. Kirk told me there were a bunch of spearguns wrapped around the legs of these oil rigs.

Kirk and I briefly glanced at each other, I gave him that “I’m out of here look”, and we rolled confidently into the warm water. I kicked hard into a screaming 2 to 3 knot surface current to reach the rig, I swam into the center of the rig and continued down. I couldn’t see Kirk but I heard him shoot and as I descended a little farther I saw him tying his gun off to the rig with a 25lb. American Red Snapper tenaciously trying to free itself from that harpoon sized detachable tip.

The visibility was maybe 20 feet and the relentless current didn’t make it any easier. Kirk pointed downward directing me toward some other snapper he had seen as he subdued the tiring snapper. I swam in the direction he pointed and I saw a large snapper coming toward me. I waited patiently, being careful not to make any sudden movements as I slowly kicked toward the fish, making sure the only thing moving were my fins.

The snapper approached to about ten feet then turned to the right hitting me with his lateral line so he could assess my level of aggression. I could have easily shot him at that point, but I really wanted him to turn a little more from 90 degrees to about 50 or 60 degrees so I could drive the shaft through at more of an angle.

A shot angle of 45 to 60 degrees greatly increases the likelihood of hitting the spine or the brain because the shaft takes a longer path through the head area. A shot at 90 degrees must be more precise to hit the spine dead on. The shaft is easily deflected off the curved bone protecting the spinal cord if it hits at 90 degrees.

I coaxed the snapper into turning by kicking a little harder toward the fish and raising the gun up to the shoot position, then I looked him square in the eye. This ever so slight advancement on my part combined with the eye contact was a sign of “predatory behavior” to the snapper.

His lateral sensor told him he has being advanced upon by a predator and his natural defense was to turn and run. I anticipated that he would make the additional turn, and in the split second that it took him to go from 90 degrees to 60 degrees I fired, driving the shaft in right where the lateral line touches the upper gill plate. The shaft drove through his head and out the front of the gill plate on the other side. The shot stoned him dead, not even a quiver.

Even if the shot had not stoned the fish, the angle of the shot ensured that the shaft would grab into the hard area of the gill plate which virtually eliminated any chance of the shaft tearing out. This shot angle also pins the neck of the fish which greatly inhibits the fishes ability to swim normally. If the fish cannot flex its neck it really can’t swim with any power. They will usually just start tail dancing trying to shake the shaft. One a fish starts tail dancing he’s pretty much done.

The secret to successful commercial spearfishing is to avoid a time consuming battle with a fish regardless of its size, whenever possible. You have a very limited amount of time to spear as many fish as you can and a fish that is shot poorly can take 3 or 4 times longer to get on the stringer than one that is stoned dead.

I pulled the 20 plus pound snapper up to me and strung him up. I closed the barb, pulled the shaft out of the fish, dropped the shaft back into the trigger, loaded the band and just let the mono line dangle down in front of the gun. The elapsed time from the time I shot the fish to complete reload was no more than 60 seconds.

Kirk was watching me, and when I glanced over at him he pointed upward over my shoulder indicating I had something approaching me from behind. As I turned I saw a 30 to 35 lb. Cobia swimming right at me. By the time I turned around he was so close to me I didn’t have the time or need to play any mind games with him. The Cobia was within 8 feet of me by the time I got the gun up. He turned to avoid me and I shot him in the same place I hit the snapper a minute before, driving the shaft into his neck, and out the gill plate on the other side. His backbone severed, the Cobia dropped stone dead.

About 90% of all the fish I have ever speared in my life were taken with a 60″ freeshaft, (no line attached to the shaft). The secret to successful freeshafting is to coax the fish into the optimal position and then deliver the shaft to a precise area of the body at an angle that has a high likelihood of stoning the fish or one that severely restricts the fishes ability to swim forward. I adapted this same philosophy to my lineshafting as well. I like to describe this style of shooting as “Surgical Spearfishing.” Lobotomies for everyone!

Kirk got his fish and I got mine. Two totally different guns, two totally different styles, two totally different approaches, with equally successful results!

Back on the boat we were all smiles, especially me, because the snapper I had speared was by far the largest American Snapper I had ever shot, and this was only the first dive. Man was I stoked! Kirk informed Toby and Rick that I didn’t have to work very hard for my two fish because I had stoned them both. I replied, “yeah I got lucky.” They didn’t realize that I had just put my plan into motion.

We ran a few more miles south when Toby decided that he and Rick would stop and make a dive before we went any further. They were anxious to get in the water too. We pulled up to another rig and Toby and Rick suited up.

Both of these guys were shooting JBL XHD Magnums that had obviously seen a lot of battles. They were equipped with the same bands, 3/8″ diameter shaft, and harpoon size detachable tip that Kirk had on his Riffe. I rarely see spearfisherman using stock equipment on their guns. Everyone seems to customize their guns to meet their own individual needs.

Rick & Toby each shot a nice Lemon Fish on that dive but the next two rigs produced nothing. Kirk and I didn’t fare much better on the three additional drops we made either. Rick said this was not uncommon because it was late in the summer and many of the rigs we were diving had been fished and dove extensively during the summer. The seas were starting to lay down so we decided to run 25 more miles offshore to the big fish rigs.

The water turned a beautiful cobalt blue as we approached a huge rig in 600 feet of water. Toby was having sinus problems so he decided to sit out the rest of the day. Better safe than sorry. Kirk, Rick and I would dive as a team the rest of the day. The rigs were plenty big for the three of us. We suited up and rolled over the side.

The water was incredible. As I swam up to the rig I was met by a huge school of 20lb. Horse Eye Jacks that escorted me into the center of the immense structure. The light diminished slightly due to the size of the structure but the visibility remained perfect. There were quite a few small fish on this rig and as we descended to about 120 ft. we encountered a severe thermocline. It felt like I had plunged into a vat of ice water.

I stopped and held my position waiting for an AJ or a Cobia to appear. Kirk and Rick continued to descend out of sight below me as a crystal parachute of bubbles, illuminated by angled rays of sunlight billowed toward the surface.

I decide before I left Florida that I was not going to go below 130ft on this trip no matter what, and I didn’t. I am 45 years old now and I never have been real comfortable with deep diving. I have a vast amount of shallow water diving experience but I have never had any formal training for deep diving. Therefore I lack the comfort level to dive deep. My rule is, if I am not comfortable and in total control, I do not dive.

Speed kills on the highway — Depth without proper training and equipment kills in the water.

I knew from past experience it is real easy to get caught up in the excitement and say “oh what the hell”, the other guys are doing it so I might as well do it too. It is real easy to get carried away and suddenly you find yourself in a situation that is way beyond your level of experience. It is a recipe for disaster. I refer to this as “The Macho Syndrome.” It really takes a lot of discipline to resist the temptation.

As I hovered there waiting for a nice fish to swim up, I stared down into the center of the rig awestruck by the sheer beauty before me. There were huge plates of steel joining the legs of the platform together about every 60 feet as you descend. The plates had big round holes cut in them to allow multiple drill heads to be sent down to the bottom.

As I stared down through the large hole in the center of the plate I felt as though I was staring into the mouth of a giant steel beast with its great mouth agape, coaxing me to descend farther and farther down inside its throat. I sensed the clever beast was trying to convince me there were great “scale covered treasures” to be speared if I would simply descend a little farther. The feeling was so ethereal I struggled to keep from falling into a hypnotic trance.

Just when I was about to fall prey to the temptations of the beast, a huge mass of tiny bubbles arose from below and in the middle of the bubbles was a very large dark colored grouper. He had one of those harpoon size tips stuck in his head and his belly was already blown up like a balloon at a depth of 120ft.

Soon Kirk and Rick appeared from the throat of the steel beast with the grouper hovering 30 ft above them. Kirk was struggling to keep the grouper from dragging him to the surface due to his bulging air bladder. Kirk must have stoned the big grouper because the fish wasn’t moving at all.

Suddenly a large school of Amberjacks appeared and curiously circled around the grouper in a tight spiral. They appeared to be in the 35 to 40 pound range and there were about 20 of them in the school. I picked out one of the larger ones and patiently tried to coax him into position using the same techniques I had used on the snapper earlier in the day.

It was very important to try to stone this fish because Kirk’s line was fully deployed with the grouper holding the line straight up. It would create a real mess if the AJ were to get tangled in Kirk’s line and we could lose both of the fish. It could also be very dangerous if any of us were to get tangled in the lines, especially late in the dive with limited air remaining.

Fortunately the fish I had picked out turned away from the Grouper and headed into the open. I kicked on him, he gave me the angle I wanted and I fired. The shaft penetrated exactly where I needed it to go and the 45lb. AJ dropped stone dead. Whew! What a relief. Back on the boat we gave Kirk high fives for what turned out to be the largest grouper he had ever shot. . . A 58 lb. Warsaw. We took lots of pictures and headed off to the next rig.

We pulled up to the next rig which was only a few miles away and Kirk tied us off. We all needed a little top time so we took advantage of the time by icing down our fish and grabbing a bite to eat. As we sat there talking I decided it was a good time to ask Toby what a Coon Ass was.

Toby said that a Coon Ass is someone of true French Canadian descent. Toby said he was a French Canadian. His last name is Rabalais. I asked him if coon ass was a derogatory term. He said no, in fact it was more of a brotherly term used among friends. I guess Chad was pulling my leg about “pissin off the coon ass” because all these guys seemed really nice to me.

Our computers cleared out in a little over an hour so we suited up and anxiously rolled over into the cobalt blue water. I assumed my usual position at 120ft just above one of those big steel drill plate guides, and Kirk and Rick disappeared down into the throat of the great beast. I was really tempted to follow them especially after seeing that big Warsaw that Kirk had just shot, but the last dive of the day is the worst time to fall victim to “Testosterone Toxicity” so I stayed put.

A few minutes passed and I was growing concerned about Kirk and Rick. They said they were going to bounce down to the deep stuff just long enough to check it out. I could see their bubbles and I hoped the steel beast would soon allow them to escape. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe I should head on down there to see if Kirk and Rick needed any help, but at the same time I couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t the steel beast trying to tempt me again.

Just then, a very large American Snapper rose up through the bubbles just like the Warsaw did. This time it was attached to Rick’s shaft and Kirk was right by Rick’s side riding shotgun. I couldn’t tell for sure how big the snapper was but it was clearly bigger than The 25lb snapper Kirk had shot on the first dive. Man was I glad to see those guys because I really didn’t want to go down there.

Right on cue, here came the AJ’s. They were a little larger and a few less of them, but they swam right up to me. I like to call these kind of jacks “Happy Jacks”. By now Rick had pulled the huge snapper down to him and he had the fish well under control.

I picked out the largest one in the school, kicked on him to get him to turn and fired. The shaft hit right on that narrow amber colored line about two inches behind his eye at about a 60 degree angle. The shot hit him directly in the brain and stoned him. The impact of the shot forced the fish slightly upward, and as the AJ began to slowly sink his body wafted back and forth sort of like that feather did at the end of the movie Forest Gump. I gently pulled him up to me and strung him up.

Back on the boat, Rick hoisted his 31.5 lb. snapper up for a Kodak moment. This snapper was a new personal record for him. I snapped a few more photos as Toby put the hammer down for the 55 mile ride back to Grand Isle. Rick, Kirk and I all got personal best fish that day and as a bonus I got a spearfishing trip I will be telling my grandkids about.

The first part of my plan was to learn as much as I could from these guys and I did, they taught me a lot. However, I really wanted to give them a glimpse of a style of spearfishing they probably never knew existed. Luck certainly played a part in my ability to stone those fish that day, but I prefer to call it “high percentage luck.”

I am not insinuating that I routinely stone every fish I shoot because I don’t. However, once you learn to recognize proper shot angles and how to coax a fish into optimal shooting position using body language and passive / aggressive body postures, you will be amazed how effective you can be with a speargun. I find it easier to practice surgical spearfishing with a gun that is rigged as sleek and simple as possible, with just enough band power to perform consistently, and has a quick and easy repetition cycle.

There are many spearfisherman here on the west coast of Florida who know about, and practice this type of spearfishing. Some of our local legends like Jim Zumwalt, Lou Bonsey, Bruce Myers and Dean Young started freeshafting in the 1960’s.

The next generation of guys like myself, Chuck Rivard, Jim Fentress, Paul Renner, Mike and Gerry Rice, John Schmidt, Jim and Terry England, Mike Yagmin, Gary and Robbie Zumwalt, Sammy Carlino, Charlie Moore and many others took the reigns in the 1970’s and early 1980’s. I really believe that the art of Freeshafting was perfected by these guys right here on the west coast of Florida over the past 40 years.

Many of the guys I listed above are now teaching their sons and daughters to spearfish in the same simple and precise manner. I know that Mike Rice is teaching his sons, Johnathan age 16 and Gary age 13 to spear using this type of gear. I realize that it may be difficult for most of the spearfisherman reading this story to totally buy into this “less is more” concept but it really does work.

I certainly don’t expect Toby, Rick, and Kirk to cast away what has been working just fine for them all these years to convert to something they saw only for a few dives. But I got their interest. I got them to a least look at something totally different that obviously works when properly applied. I got them asking questions. I got them talking about it to others.

Mission Accomplished!!!!!

I have an immense amount of respect for spearfisherman like Toby, Rick, and Kirk. They dive on structures that are very hazardous and routinely dive to depths that most divers only hear about. They shoot for quality not quantity. One big trophy size fish is far more desirable to these guys than taking a limit of smaller ones. It takes incredible courage and skill to do what these guys do and I am humbled and honored that they invited me to dive with them.

I can’t thank Toby and the guys enough for inviting me and giving me one of the greatest experiences I have ever had as a spearfisherman. I have invited Toby and the guys to come over to Carrabelle and go out on my boat with me this spring. I can’t wait to see what happens when they drop down on a rock pile with a hundred or so Gag grouper on it. Maybe they will write a story and send it in so you can get their side of the story.

Thanks,

Kevin Bruington
E-mail: oceanrhino@gmail.com