I am a halibut slaying animal. I am completely 'hooked' on halibut diving. Halibut is now my reason to be, it is what I go to sleep thinking about, it is what wakes me in the morning, it is what pulls at me and makes my hands twitch. When I walk down the sidewalk I scan back and forth, emulating the buried halibut search.

I arrived early at Lawson's Landing and paid for Jock's boat launching. Jock showed up, other people showed up, we launced the boat, and headed out. Into the sea on boats are we, into the face of fear go we.

Okay, minimal fear, but into the sea on boats. I checked with Jock on who was diving the first drift. Jock was free diving, so he used the boat as his float and Phil and I dove.

I pulled on my hood, gloves, and weight belt while Jock was puttering around with the depth finder. I hooked my BC to the line and threw it overboard as soon as we stopped. Pulled on mask, snorkel and fins, through my float over, and hopped into the water. Flipped my tank onto my back, grabbed my gun, and descended.

The visibility was great! Fifteen feet, maybe more! There were large jellies all over. Basketball sized, with four purple tinged inner chambers. I bumped one with my head, and there was a noticable 'thunk.' These are not the light and lacy moon jellies, but great throbbing beasts, hundreds and thousands of them, and more.

I saw a halibut, amazing! There on the sand, waiting for me, and I shot, and it took off. When the spear hits, they explode off of the sand. I followed, holding onto the float line, loosly, then the line was slack and I got to the end and found a lonely gun and a fishless spear.

A small chunk of meat stuck to the spear to remind me of the thrill that had been.

I continued on my dive. I spooked one. That was the first Halibut that I had spooked which I had seen. It swam off in great undulations, like a piece of the sea floor had decided to swim.

I chased after, to no avail. Continued on. We were early on the tide, it was still mostly slack, and clear, and warm (57 degrees). Then another Halibut appeared on the bottom, and I lined up on it, close, very close, and shot.

The spear didn't make it all the way out of the gun, I was that close, and the fish exploded, but could do naught but spin on the spear that punctured its body. The thrill is indescribable. The victory over the piscine. The feel of the spear gun recoiling against your hand, the sensation, felt through the water, of the spear hitting the fish, entering the fish, the fish fighting, twisting, swimming, then collapsing. Then swimming to the surface, with fish in hand, watching the blood stream from the would, watching the fish labor, jaws working, surfacing, I swam to the boat, Jock saw me, hopped in, and took my fish.

I dove a bit more, then came up, and we set up for another drift. I didn't take my weights, fins, or mask off. When we got to the drift spot I reaced for my tank, and fell off of the boat. Jock asked "Did you mean to do that?" No, but it was convenient. Later I made note that the fastest way to get into the water is to fall off of the boat, then Jock will hand you the rest of your shit." I got another fish. The excitement! No one was near the boat when I came up with this one, so I slipped the tank hang line through the fish's gills and out the mouth, then removed my spear, and threw the fish into the boat. Then went back for more.

We went in, took a breather. I had two fish. I ate a sandwich, grabbed my second tank and we went back out. Third drift I was fishless. And then, I saw something. I looked, and looked. Just a bit of skin exposed. It looked like a halibut, so finally I shot.

The spear hit, with a thud. There was no explosion of action. The 'fish' gave a little shake, and exposed itself as a shark. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. I know, I'll surface, Jock will know how to deal! I gave a little tug on the shooting line, and the spear fell out. Oh what a relief! I left the shart to its' own devices and continued on.

Then I found a Danforth Anchor, with chain. I worked it, brought it up. I was anchored to the bottom, holding the line, and the current was ripping. I had to kick hard to get my head above the water, so mostly I swam up, waved at the boats, and then waited a foot underwater with my hand sticking up.

Mike Mendoza came over with his boat. I tossed the anchor in, waved, and went back down. I had fish to find!

The third drift was fishless, just the anchor, and the shark. The fourth drift was getting cold. I had 1000 psi left in my tank, towards the end of the drift, beginning to think that I should save my air, come up, and do another drift. Then, just to my side, a fish! The biggest of the day for me! I was out of position, off to the side, too low for a good shot, I eased my way over, then as soon as I could I reached way out and took the shot.

Boom! And the fish exploded, and swam in tight circles, and I saw that my spear had not penetrated all the way, oh no! I don't want to lose this fish! So I held my gun, and swam after the fish, swimming hard, trying to keep as much tension off of the spear as I could, breathing hard, swimming hard, then suddenly the fish dropped to the sand, spent.

I swam to it, grabbed the spear, and thrust it through the body, then swam to the surface with the blood streaming behind me, exhuberant with my third and final fish (the limit is three).

I then tended the boat while Phil used the last of my tank, and Jock did a nice drift on his tank.