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12/01/11 Hydro-Right Here, Right Now
December 2011
Sport Fishing Magazine
FOR THE RECORD
Hydro-Right Here, Right Now
By Tred Barta
Last August, I traveled back to my old stomping grounds on Long Island, New York, to participate in the annual Hampton Offshore Classic. This tournament benefits the group Big Brothers and Big Sisters of Eastern Long Island. The event marked the first time I’ve been back to my beloved hometown — where I fished, hunted and lived happily for more than 35 years. I felt very unsettled about how people and friends would react to my disabilities that I didn’t suffer back when I lived here.
Greg Mastronardi and his wife, Sue, heroically transported Anni and me from New York’s LaGuardia Airport without benefit of a paraplegic van. Greg and Sue, both bodybuilders, lifted me out of my wheelchair and seemingly effortlessly placed me gently in the “mommy van.” It provided my first inkling that everything would be OK.
I planned to fish aboard White Water, a 43-foot custom Torres belonging to White Water Marine.
My old friends John Bauman and Anthony Vaccaro — partners in White Water — wanted to duplicate how I fished for bigeye tuna in the late ’70s and early ’80s. Also aboard was my dear friend Mark Freedman, the creator/producer of The Best and Worst of Tred Barta on Versus. None of these people qualify as novices. Between us, we had a cumulative 150 years of canyon-fishing experience! Yet, the crew agreed to fish lures and spreader bars of my choice, and to go where I wanted.
I chose five Moldcraft Barta Bonita Bumper Teasers with Green Machine daisy-chain trailers. Nobody balked at my choices. Then I told them I wanted to go to Hydrographers Canyon — 178 nautical miles from Shinnecock. The flat water let us run to the canyon in about seven hours. We started trolling spreader bars, two deep clone lures, five bumper teasers and the Barta Rig. When we hit the 100-fathom line, the water varied between clean green and cobalt blue. We smelled the whales, saw porpoises, manta rays, terns and black-backed gulls. Yessir! Welcome to the Hydro!
We quickly started the day with a doubleheader of 50-pound yellowfin. Next a suicidal white marlin couldn’t get the lure into its mouth. No hookup.
I needed to teach Anthony and John the Barta throttle dance. As a fireball sun lowered on a flat Hydro sea, the right short exploded and hooked up; then the left short went, followed by the center short. “Four on! Four on!” I bellowed at Capt. John: “Power on, power off, turn right, turn left, power on!”
The right and left long both go off. Both short riggers explode! Nine fish on! Our crew went nine for- nine on albacore! In the box they went as we hugged, yelled and high-fived.
The sun arose to right long firing off — a 55-pound wahoo. Within the next several hours, we scored eight-for-eight on albacore, plus a single yellowfin.
By 10 a.m., everyone was worried about fuel, missing the weigh-in, ice — they just plain worried about everything since we were 167 nautical miles from home. I called Cord, Oakland’s marina manager on the satphone and repeated the words of 30 years ago: “Cord, the box is full! Box is full!”
We turned the corner at Shinnecock Inlet. Cord waited by our slip as he’d done for me for so many years. Every time I have worried about not being able to revisit my life’s previous adventures, I prove that I can. I might be paralyzed, but I’m not crippled. Thank you everyone for bringing me home safely.
Till next tide,
Capt. Tred Barta
PS: We filmed this adventure. Watch for it on the Versus Network, part of the NBC Sports Group.
Sport Fishing Magazine
FOR THE RECORD
Hydro-Right Here, Right Now
By Tred Barta
Last August, I traveled back to my old stomping grounds on Long Island, New York, to participate in the annual Hampton Offshore Classic. This tournament benefits the group Big Brothers and Big Sisters of Eastern Long Island. The event marked the first time I’ve been back to my beloved hometown — where I fished, hunted and lived happily for more than 35 years. I felt very unsettled about how people and friends would react to my disabilities that I didn’t suffer back when I lived here.
Greg Mastronardi and his wife, Sue, heroically transported Anni and me from New York’s LaGuardia Airport without benefit of a paraplegic van. Greg and Sue, both bodybuilders, lifted me out of my wheelchair and seemingly effortlessly placed me gently in the “mommy van.” It provided my first inkling that everything would be OK.
I planned to fish aboard White Water, a 43-foot custom Torres belonging to White Water Marine.
My old friends John Bauman and Anthony Vaccaro — partners in White Water — wanted to duplicate how I fished for bigeye tuna in the late ’70s and early ’80s. Also aboard was my dear friend Mark Freedman, the creator/producer of The Best and Worst of Tred Barta on Versus. None of these people qualify as novices. Between us, we had a cumulative 150 years of canyon-fishing experience! Yet, the crew agreed to fish lures and spreader bars of my choice, and to go where I wanted.
I chose five Moldcraft Barta Bonita Bumper Teasers with Green Machine daisy-chain trailers. Nobody balked at my choices. Then I told them I wanted to go to Hydrographers Canyon — 178 nautical miles from Shinnecock. The flat water let us run to the canyon in about seven hours. We started trolling spreader bars, two deep clone lures, five bumper teasers and the Barta Rig. When we hit the 100-fathom line, the water varied between clean green and cobalt blue. We smelled the whales, saw porpoises, manta rays, terns and black-backed gulls. Yessir! Welcome to the Hydro!
We quickly started the day with a doubleheader of 50-pound yellowfin. Next a suicidal white marlin couldn’t get the lure into its mouth. No hookup.
I needed to teach Anthony and John the Barta throttle dance. As a fireball sun lowered on a flat Hydro sea, the right short exploded and hooked up; then the left short went, followed by the center short. “Four on! Four on!” I bellowed at Capt. John: “Power on, power off, turn right, turn left, power on!”
The right and left long both go off. Both short riggers explode! Nine fish on! Our crew went nine for- nine on albacore! In the box they went as we hugged, yelled and high-fived.
The sun arose to right long firing off — a 55-pound wahoo. Within the next several hours, we scored eight-for-eight on albacore, plus a single yellowfin.
By 10 a.m., everyone was worried about fuel, missing the weigh-in, ice — they just plain worried about everything since we were 167 nautical miles from home. I called Cord, Oakland’s marina manager on the satphone and repeated the words of 30 years ago: “Cord, the box is full! Box is full!”
We turned the corner at Shinnecock Inlet. Cord waited by our slip as he’d done for me for so many years. Every time I have worried about not being able to revisit my life’s previous adventures, I prove that I can. I might be paralyzed, but I’m not crippled. Thank you everyone for bringing me home safely.
Till next tide,
Capt. Tred Barta
PS: We filmed this adventure. Watch for it on the Versus Network, part of the NBC Sports Group.
