Blue Tuna Spearfishing

Happy Friday! We hope everyone has a fishy weekend out in the water.

Next Friday, Terry Maas will be giving a presentation on 70 years of diving, and trust us you don’t want to miss it! Starts 6 pm, don’t forget to bring a chair.

See you there!

PART 2: ANCHOVY BAIT BALL & WSB

Barracuda slashed through the outer edges, cormorants rocketed down from above, and the entire bait ball would tighten into a frantic, shifting mass.

The inside was just as alive as the outside—white sea bass and calicos would slowly rise into the bait and disappear completely inside it, feeding from within.

Eventually, I followed them in.

Inside the bait ball, visibility disappeared except for the constant motion of anchovies around me. Then came the sounds—white sea bass tail cavitation, grunting, and feeding all around. I watched fish circling with their mouths wide open, gulping bait from within the chaos.

It was one of those rare days that reminds you why you dive. We were lucky enough to share this moment with friends that joined in on the bait ball and landed WSB as well.

Diving an anchovy bait ball was one of the greatest experiences of my freediving life.

My friend Joey and I had been working a kelp bed for a couple of hours with relatively slow action when we spotted pelicans dive-bombing a bait ball in the distance. No other boats were on it, so we made the move and anchored in.

What we dropped into was a massive, living wall of anchovies being pushed against the island in about 20 feet of water and extending into deeper water. On every descent, I would swim beneath the bait and see white sea bass ranging from small fish to giants over 60 pounds. Sometimes the bait would part like an explosion of light underwater, revealing movement deep inside the school.

Barracuda slashed through the outer edges, cormorants rocketed down from above, and the entire bait ball would tighten into a frantic, shifting mass. The inside was just as alive as the outside—white sea bass and calicos would slowly rise into the bait and disappear completely inside it, feeding from within.

Eventually, I followed them in…..

Want to know the rest? Watch the FULL video and see what we captured on YouTube

LINK IN BIO TO VIDEO

One of the most interesting sounds in spearfishing is tuning into the croak of a white sea bass. On this dive, I heard a fish sounding off and kept following the croaks until they became loud and distinct.

I slowly descended to around 25 feet, scanning in every direction while listening carefully. Finally, I spotted a fish in the distance near the bottom. I continued my descent slowly to 40 feet, then 45 feet, tracking it as it slipped past a few kelp stalks. Anticipating its path, I moved to meet it on the other side where the water was clear of kelp and took my shot.

Every descent became a puzzle—listen, look, adjust, and repeat. The croaking kept me committed to the area, knowing that eventually one of the fish might reveal itself.

Hunting white sea bass is often a game of patience and interpretation. Sometimes your eyes find the fish first. Other times, your ears point you in the right direction, and you have to piece everything together. That’s part of what makes hunting them so rewarding.

Over the past few sessions, it felt like the white sea bass had completely disappeared. In the usual spots, there were no obvious signs of fish, and I wasn’t seeing anything cruising mid-column.

Periodically, I would make a descent to listen for croaking. At depth, I could hear faint croaking, so I knew they were there. I started dropping down along the stringers for cover and swimming a few feet into the kelp canopy. Looking toward the sun, the white sea bass silhouettes contrasted perfectly against the glowing “green room” beneath the canopy. That’s when I realized the fish had been there the whole time, holding just a couple feet beneath the canopy and out of sight.

I’d catch quick glimpses of them high up and far away, but never had a clean shot opportunity. After repeating this technique and encountering fish four different times, I finally positioned myself over a reef ridge. I picked a spot where I was perfectly hidden by the kelp and waited.

Luckily, one fish passed directly underneath me. I was able to slowly maneuver my speargun without spooking it and make a perfect holding shot.

Hunting white sea bass challenges all of your senses. You need acute vision to detect the slightest movement in the kelp, listen carefully for their croaking, and piece everything together to develop the best strategy for the conditions and behavior of the fish.