The sun began to peak over the horizon as a light offshore breeze kept the hot, muggy air of Cabo San Lucas’ tropical desert at bay. It was a beautiful, calm morning — the roar of the boat’s engines didn’t even wake the sea lions lying on top of each other on the docks. As we left the harbor, I gazed out at the Cabo Arch, the massive rock formation that provided a sense of hope for the fishing that lay ahead for my brother, dad, grandfather and me.

The first mate climbed down from the tower; reels buzzed and ticked as lines were let out into the Pacific. “It won’t be long now,” my grandfather said hopefully. While my dad and brother feasted on the breakfast the chef prepared, I sat gazing into the water, hoping my dream would come true.

Fishing for marlin in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico
Flynn Jansen set a goal of catching a marlin. Photo by Pat Ford

After hours of waiting and losing one large fish, my dream started slipping through my fingers. I slouched in the chair at the stern, staring at rods that seemed as desperate as I was, waiting for a strike. The boat was dead quiet. I could hear the ocean hitting the hull. My eyes looked off into space, and my heart sank.

Suddenly, the mate on the bridge flew down the ladder. He’s probably just checking the rods, I thought. Then my dad and grandfather hopped to their feet. Before I knew what was happening, the mate handed me a rod bent over like a heavy branch on an old tree. The reel began to scream as line ripped off. Far out in the distance, a massive splash seemed to engulf the horizon. “Marlin!” the captain screamed as he threw the boat in reverse to back down on the fish.

Another splash. And another. The striped marlin, incredibly large, somehow walked on the surface, its head shaking back and forth like a lion ripping apart its prey. My brain couldn’t think straight. My heart rate doubled and my body tensed up. I pulled the rod up and slowly let it down, reeling in inches of line at a time. The fish dove, then rose back to the surface, swimming so fast all I could see was a blue-and-green blur. Arms aching, I held the rod as if my life depended on it. Sweat poured down my face while the ocean spat at me and the stern crashed into the waves. Reeling in as much line as I could, I knew the fish was lurking under the boat.

Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, is an ideal spot to target marlin, tuna and dorado.
Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, is an ideal spot to target marlin, tuna and dorado. Photo by Pat Ford

The mate grabbed the leader when the marlin jumped at him, its bill thrashing like a knight wielding his sword. And then, splash! The fish hit the water again and dove deep. My arms burned like overcooked bacon in a frying pan. My hands began to cramp. I was ready to give up. Then I remembered why I was on this boat. I thought back to catching tiny fish with my grandfather and thinking, One day I’m going to catch a fish bigger than anything I’ve ever seen.

This was the day, the moment.

More determined than ever, I began reeling, one crank at a time. Pain vanished from my arms, my mind paying attention only to the rod in my hands and the fish in the water. Soon, the great fish appeared next to the boat. Its tail, as bright as the moon, pumped back and forth, launching the marlin out of the water yet again. The sun reflected off the incredible blues, greens and purples the fish wore on its body. The mate grabbed the leader, pulled the fish next to the boat and grabbed the bill. I could not believe my eyes.

Young angler catches yellowfin tuna
For New England teen Flynn Jansen, Mexico opened the door to new fishing realities.

Stretched out before me was a fish bigger than I am tall. It had stripes and eyes of a tiger. Posing for a photo with the fish, I was shocked to feel its skin touch mine. I was starstruck. We revived the fish in the water and watched the bright greens slowly turn to dark blue before blending into the rest of the sea. My legs were shaking as I fell onto the sofa. My shirt smelled of salt, sweat and a fishy aroma I’m all too familiar with. Everyone congratulated me, but I didn’t respond. I couldn’t move my arms, and my hands were cramped to a point where I couldn’t bend my fingers. I didn’t care. I laid back, closed my eyes and thought about my dream, which is now a memory.  

Flynn Jansen is a 13-year-old angler who primarily fishes from his grandparents’ boat off Rhode Island.