There is one place on East coast I can enjoy...fishing the Outer Banks with "mi amigo" Bill Hogan, the pinnacle of a fisherman. William is a full tilt Outer Banker fisherman who morphed into a sophistic with knowledge that runs the gambit of politics and business to Ocean currents and fish schedules without the baggage of an urbanite or ill tempered red neck. Hogan has fished the Gulf currents off Hatteras and Oregon Inlet for white marlin and and other game fish almost his whole life. He has persuaded many to invest in the real estate of the Banks while waiting for the correct sea temps and photo period to launch his boat and chase Drum, Stripper and Cobia.
Hogan and I have crossed paths in Yellowstone and North Carolina. We fished the same fish bucket rivers that empty into the Bering Sea of Alaska. And when I leave him, there is always a residual of vivid memories. Few, except women have this affect upon me. And so when I called Bill to tell him I was driving down from D.C. to the family's beach house near Duck, North Carolina, the call forwarded to a tuna tower where Hogan and several compards were searching for the great fish Cobia, Rachycentron canadum. He said he might cutoff the chat if he spotted a cruiser but I was to come on down as the Cobia were migrating northwards.
The night before our trip, Bill came over to the house and cooked up some Cobia that surpassed Wahoo. We rendezvoused at TW's bait shop next morning and meant two of his long term Banks fish whispers. They were very intently curious of me as a six gun westerner from Reno 911. All showed southern hospitality the Outer Banks is renown for.
His boat was a inshore fisherman's dream. Hand built with an open configuration, plenty of free free board but a shallow enough draft to navigate the movable shoal of the inlet. His Yamaha got the boat up quickly and was very economical on fuel consumption as opposed to my older 350 Volvo Penta. His companions for the day were Louis and Dave and at once, it was clear that Louis's was the son of an osprey. He had a keen steady way about him and had me, this jaded travel fixated by his tales of catching stripper over an orange sized boobber drifting bait over huge fish. If there was to be fish today nothing could escape Bill and Louis's stereo vision and God help the prey. Dave, the laid back entertainer spoke of his travels with his high school buddies and relish fishing the Gulf currents and bill fish. He would meet me near our Montana fish camp this fall . His long range cruiser remained silent in Dry Dock until the glitzy northern urbanites felt more compelled, again, to flee and spend their inheritance gilt on the outer banks and connect to nature.
We sailed through the Oregon Inlet and headed south. All except I, went atop to the tuna tower to hunt for the cruising Cobia . The sun's angle was tough to get a fix but Louis had spotted several Cobias before they sounded. They were going to be spooky today. Dave came down probably to check to see if I had sea legs or was blowing breakfast. Bill's launch was so steady to the 3-4 foot chop, I never felt quezzy all day. Dave was giving me the the blow by blow accounts of what was happening above and we chatted how bad science had probably shut down the beach for access. I was lost in thoughts of how my fellow scientists sold out to the highest bidder, when the the boat kicked into high gear for several minutes before coming to an idle. !2 lbs lines with bright color feather resembling crabs were flipped to several large Cobia cruising a foot below the surface. These were gentle giants seemly prehistoric like a hybrid between a bottle nose dolphin and a ling cod. They seemed to smile and were curious with not a care in the worlds and certainly obliviously to what Hogan had in mind. As soon as Bill cast to the larger fish, it drove to his lure and Bill gently set the hook. He fought the fish from the tower as Dave prepared the net below. The second fish stayed with the hooked Cobia as Louis tried to entice it to strike. The smaller Cobia went after it as Bill kept the other Cobia from running the keel. Dave even threw a live eel rig but the other Cobia kept a safe distance away
These fish behave much like our Baja Dorado when we hook a bull. We keep it aft as the commotion attracts other Dorado for easy picking for a well presented fly. There is not doubt that one could cast a fly to these cruiser Cobia with a roll cast by I would not attempt it unless I deployed a 12 wt. Bill recalled the women demanding fish so we all agreed to keep the Cobia for a fish feed.
Several more runs down towards Oregon Inlet when Bill pulled the plug and we were in dock by 5:15 and sipping beer on the Sound by 6:00. This was another special day with Bill Hogan. I need to drag these guys down to the Baja. With their skill sets they'd never go into port and the Sea of Cortez would welcome them with her bounty
