Near death experience while shooting – mine – post yours

[kendal larson]

So –

I’m offshore out of Port Fourchon, Louisiana this past weekend, shooting a kingfish tournament there.

Below is my retelling of nearly being killed on day one of the tournament.

I’d be interesting in hearing of any close brushes when you’ve been out shooting.

Attaching a couple of (mostly) unedited shots to give you a sense of the tournament, and the gear and where I was sitting when I was nearly killed.

I’m still laughing.  🙂

Kendal

So –

It’s Friday, and the forecast was once again incorrect. Instead of the
lovely one to three foot seas predicted, the front had stalled which meant
we still had a strong north wind that was generating three to five foot
seas, and there were some much bigger swells waiting for us in the Gulf of
Mexico. But that wasn’t hairy enough to keep us home by any means, and the
entire field of boats fishing the Southern Kingfish Association’s tournament
gathered at the jetties of Port Fourchon, Louisiana at sunrise to chase
after the big kings, and we were right there with them.

The rough seas meant the ride out wasn’t going to be a joyride, and we took
a good pounding while making close to 40 kts, occasional big waves launching
the 30′ boat completely out of the water, the engines screaming for the
briefest of moments before the captain managed to throttle back. Each big
wave was bone-jarring, but the ride was made more comfortable by the three
beanbag chairs that three of us rode in at the back of the boat. We laid
there, mostly with our eyes close to keep the saltwater spray out of them,
but at times looking up at all the gear above us, which was rattling about
nearly as much as the crew.

At some point we had a gear failure, and one of the outrigging spars failed;
either a bolt sheared or the pole itself sheared inside the mount. The
result was the spear-shaped bastage came flying off the top of the boat
making a beeline for my head.

I had my eyes closed, but opened them when I heard the loud smack the
outrigger made when it speared my chair and hit the transom, just three to
five inches – yes, I said inches – from my head. My eyes snapped about the
same moment Chad’s did, and we both saw the flash of the outrigger flying
past us to be claimed by Davy Jones’ locker.

Clint, our captain, throttled back, and we stood up to look things over.

The full realization of how close I’d just come to being clear hit me hard,
but my reaction surprised me; instead of freaking me out, it was hugely
exhilarating, and I laughed like a madman. I couldn’t believe that I’d just
nearly been killed. I STILL laugh every time I think about it.   🙂

So – photos attached – including the shot of the three beanbags (I was
seated in the middle chair) and the shot up looking at the rods, and the
remaining outrigger.

A few others, to give you a sense of the GoM that day.

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