Wakeman is one of my favorite fishing companions — his good luck usually cancels out my bad luck. We met Trosset and his son, Chris, at their slip in Hurricane Hole Marina at 7 a.m. Conditions were perfect. Light winds and pilchards aplenty gave us a sense of hope, and before long, our captain pointed the bow west toward the Marquesas and hit the throttle. The plan was to check a few wrecks in the Quicksands for cobia and then shift northwest into the Gulf. Trosset knew of several spots that sometimes held schools of kings, but no one had fished them recently, so we were taking a chance. The shallow wrecks were pretty much dead, and after checking three without seeing a cobia, we ran some 15 miles into the Gulf. The seas were flat calm, which in February is as rare as a wooden nickel, and our first stop was at a patch reef in 60 feet of water. The tide was almost high, so we strategically anchored up so the chum would wash over the reef. Chris put over a block of frozen chum while R.T. dished out a few freebie pilchards. An hour later, all we had behind the boat were sharks, jacks and a swarm of pelicans. We caught our fill of jacks in short order, but there wasn’t a king to be found.