Failure leads to experience, experience leads to success.

Most hunters and anglers are haunted by the one that got away. Every retelling the fish get bigger the antler points increase and the opportunity for success was that much closer.

My friends and I say you have to be skilled enough and smart enough to be able to get lucky. You have to put yourself in the right place at the right time to have a chance at success. Of course we like to reminisce about times we’ve sealed the deal and pulling a vacuumsealed package out of thre freezer is always a nice reminder of those scores. But I think I can speak on behalf of almost all hunters and anglers, the ones that just slipped away are the ones that haunt our dreams. Those are the moments we relive on a frequent sometimes daily basis. Occasionally life will distract you with whatever’s coming next but then out of the blue there’s a flash in your mind of the silhouette of a deer wandering into the forest or the tailfin of your personal best fish gliding into the murky darkness.

Skip Jack: The significantly smaller fish I didnt miss

On a recent spearfishing trip to Baja California a couple of friends and I had several moments that left our coolers a little lighter than we had hoped and kept us wondering what we could have done differently.

There's a place in Mexico I’ve been spearfishing since 2017 that has left me with a mind full of these ponderings. Back in 2017 I learned to look for the “Broom Tail” of large Cabrilla (Grouper) and on one of the clearest (great underwater visibility) days I have ever seen I thought an impressive fish was within reach of the end of my spear, going back to watch the video evidence it turns out I was about 40’ off the mark, which only leaves me wondering “How big was that fucking fish?” That moment is seared in my mind as a permanent memory and taught me a valuable lesson … you must see the fish’s eye with detail before you pull the trigger. Fast forward to July of 2020 freediving on that same spot, a rocky reef structure that comes out of the depths of the surrounding water to about 60 feet below the surface. For most of the 15 mile trip from port you are in hundreds if not thousands of feet of water, but for this one little spot no larger than a football field. This incredible and mysterious location that serves as a paradise for exotic fish has also become a nightmare that taunts me when I sleep. On the 3rd day of our dive trip we returned to this location, the captain put a buoy on the “shallow” spot and dropped us about 500 feet up current. We jumped in, loaded our guns, took a few breaths and dove down into the blue-green abyss below. I was only about 33’ under the surface and was excited about all of the baitfish swimming about, towards the end of my breath hold my eyes glanced over my right shoulder to see a glimmering wall of 30-50 pound Pargo (snapper). A sight I had only ever dreamed of. I lined up my speargun on the lead fish in the school, pulled the trigger and in an instant went from potential ellation to the sorrow of my shortcomings all while finning towards the surface to take my next breath of air. Looking at my divewatch after I surfaced I learned I had PLENTY of time to have had a clamer reaction, patiently waiting for the school to pass in front of me taking the trophy fish of my choice and one that would have been a personal best buy leaps and bounds.

The whole ordeal from entering the water to realizing my failures was no more than 95 seconds. The school was gone and we were left searching the rocky outcropping from 45-70 feet below the surface, coming up short every time we surfaced.

I am thankful to have a hobby that takes me to places I would have no inspiration to search out otherwise and I am fortunate to have friends to join in the successes and misery.

I know over the next few years and decades these stories will continue to occur both in the woods and under the sea, but If I vow to learn the lessons that get bestowed upon us in these moments, train harder and work smarter I'm sure there will be a few stories of success along the way.

I recently heard Randy Newberg say

"Failure leads to experience, experience leads to success." Over the next 40 plus years I know this model will be fruitful. In the meantime I'm going to cook up some fish and enjoy knowing where it came from.