Ten minutes after that fish was released, we were greeted by what looked like a couple of torpedoes homed in on our boat. But at the front end of the bubbling streaks were yard-long dolphin racing from a sargassum weedline to belt the baits. Their dance was short but spirited on the marlin tackle. A few peanut-size dorado got in on the act while their big brothers were still flopping in the body bag. Then a blackfin tuna stayed for lunch. Things slowed for a few hours then, with only bonito to provide entertainment. But about 2 p.m., another sail latched on. This one, a full-grown model, did most of his fighting well away from the boat, and when he tired, the crew grabbed the bill and hoisted him aboard for a quick grip-and-grin photo before reviving the still-glowing fish.

Veteran trollers head out at dawn with big-game gear rigged and ready.

I had to pinch myself to remember that we were fishing off Florida's West Central coast, where gar are usually the only "billfish" anyone catches. But every year, more anglers are learning that for those who go west, way west, the fish are there. It's a long ride out to the blue water, but more and more west coast boats have been making it in recent years as fuel-efficient, turbocharged diesels and four-stroke or direct injection outboards have greatly increased the range of some offshore rigs.

The trip is worth it for action-starved bluewater anglers who usually have to settle for kings and bonito closer to land. Once you pass the hundred-mile mark, you enter angling dreamland, where the next strike may well be a 500-pound blue marlin, and where it's not unheard of to be surrounded by tons of leaping yellowfin tuna, every one of them big as an oil drum. Skyrocketing wahoo can be an anytime happening, and plenty of sails, blackfins and dolphin paint a truly lovely fishing picture. Maybe best of all, even with a few more boats making the voyage these days, it's not uncommon to troll all day without ever coming within sight of any competition.

I joined Mark Thomason aboard his 54 Bertram out of Longboat Key, with a crew including offshore pro Steve Sprig of Naples, mate James Estes and several pals, plus Mark's 8-year-old grandson, Morgan. Our goal was to more or less casually participate in the Old Salt Gulf Loop Tournament, which each August sends a fleet to where no boats have gone before-or at least to where few sportfishing anglers ever used to go, beyond the edge of the continental shelf, anywhere from 80 to 200 miles out.

The summer tournament is timed to coincide with a meandering of the Gulf Loop Current, a tendril of warm water that snakes into the Gulf of Mexico out of the Caribbean. Oceanographers say it runs northward roughly up the center of the Gulf, then splits somewhere off the Mississippi, with the eastern arm forming a loop that travels south along the edge of the continental shelf, eventually passing into the Florida Straits. There, it bends northward to flow between The Bahamas and Florida. This stretch of water is best known as the Gulf Stream to anglers, but oceanographers call it the "Florida Current." The Gulf Stream proper begins north of The Bahamas, where a current coming up the east side of the islands joins the Florida Current to create a broad river of warm water that travels all the way to England after moving up the east coast of the U.S.

Gulf Loop waters last summer produced a new Florida record for blue marlin with a fish over 1,000 pounds. The tournament we fished, which included 20 boats, released three blues including one that was estimated at 450, our pair of sails, and good numbers of yellowfin tuna to 150 pounds and wahoo over 50 pounds. Dolphin were numerous but not big this time around, with the largest in the upper 20s. A few blackfins showed up in time for sushi, along with seemingly endless numbers of bonito.