This year I spent much of my kayak fishing time chasing chromers, and not without success, but I also came across some remarkable flatties. Here are three specimens. Take a look if you’re into this sort of thing or if you just like slamming into the beach.

Yesterday I ventured into the Monterey Canyon in search of King Salmon. I mooched around for a few hours but the chinook were not to be found. However, I did come across a patch of Petrale Sole.



It was a hot bite and after a short while I had eight of these beauties in the boat. Like clockwork the wind picked up around the noon hour, the drift became too fast to fish deep, and it was time to set sail and troll a salmon lure on the way in (just in case the chinkook changed their minds).



The downside to fishing out of Moss is that it's a long way, a very long way, for a kayak. The upside is that you can almost always count on a downwind ride back to port. Pros & cons, yin & yang, quid pro quo...

Last week I found myself alone off the Shelter Cove coast fishing for salmon. I had been mooching for several hours but didn’t get a bite. As I was venturing out into deeper waters I decided to change things up before going back to my salmon hunt. There was a large octopus in my bait box, almost 20 inches in length, which I had grabbed from a lingcod the day before. Typically, I would cut an octopus of this size into many smaller baits, but this time I threaded it whole onto my mooching rig with two barbless circle hooks. Per regulation the hooks, when mooching for salmon, cannot span more than 5 inches and my rig looked quite ridiculous with one hook through the head of the octopus and the other one still close to the head, at about the neck line, leaving almost 15 inches of tentacles dangling below. I sent the rig down and within a few seconds felt a pull.

Patience, I told myself, this is a lot of octopus and the fish needs to gobble it up to get to the hook. I slowly began to reel, the other side started to pull a little harder, a gentle tug-of-war ensued and the fish was hooked. It turned out to be a nice-sized lingcod and after dispatching it the octopus was still intact.

I sent the octopus back down and immediately felt another pull. I repeated the sequence from before and soon my pole was bending like a rainbow. It felt heavy, very heavy, in fact I couldn’t get the fish off the sea floor. The braid transmitted intense pulses back to topside and my mind began to race. I knew where I was. This was Pacific Halibut territory. Could it be? And what was the status of this fishery? I suddenly remembered, Pacifics were closed. At least I could get a picture or video footage from this catch and reached for my GoPro. Oh no, out of battery, there will be no more than a mental picture of my first Pacific should I get it to the boat.

I kept solid pressure on the fish and eventually it came off the bottom. Suddenly it didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Still a good fish, but not a heavyweight. The pulsing sensation continued and I was still thinking flatfish, perhaps a nice Cali Hali skating up towards the surface.

Moments later I had one of the biggest surprises in my kayak fishing career. This wasn’t a flatfish after all but rather some kind of eel. It had very snake-like movements, twisting and turning its way through the water column, and throwing in wild head shakes every few seconds. My mind once again went into overdrive. I knew about the major eel species on our coast and they all would be fair take. I could rule out the Monkeyface Prickleback which doesn’t grow this big and has a different kind of face. But what was it? A Moray Eel which comes in many different colorations and sizes or perhaps a Wolf Eel? What would they taste like, are they good food value? I had eaten other types of eels before (which I loved) and wanted to give it a try.

The challenge now was to land this creature. I was on a narrow-beam sea kayak and my landing options were limited, but I was determined to not let those jaws come close to my fingers and planned to thoroughly kill this creature in the water before taking it into the cockpit with me.

The eel was close to 5-feet long and managed to entangle itself in in the leader which also measured 5 feet. It began to wind itself off the hook while the eel’s jaws were constantly opening and closing in search of something to grab. This was turning into a big mess. I pulled the fish to the side of my kayak, stuck my knife behind its head and tried to pin it against the hull of my boat. The eel summoned all its remaining strength and kept turning.The jaws now were dangerously close to my forearm and my knife began to slide out. Just at this moment I felt the eel’s life forces fade and the fight was over.

After stowing away the eel I found the octopus still fully intact and I sent it down again. In short order I hooked a canary and a vermilion, two beautiful specimens in their own rights, before the magic octopus finally slid off those barbless hooks.

I continued fishing for salmon for another hour or two but my focus wasn’t quite there, and neither were the salmon. My legs were starting to go numb under the weight of the catch and it was time to paddle back.

If you ever wondered what Wolf Eel tastes like think Sablefish with a thicker and tougher skin. The flesh is white, full of precious oils and exquisite.

I'm eyeing a trip to Moss Landing for salmon fishing this coming weekend. Are salmon actually in the area? Would you mind sharing some intel? Marine conditions look good, swells are coming down, still a bit early for a good wind forecast.

Would you like to join? PM me if you're interested.

Plan B, in case salmon don't show up, is to go after Petrale Sole. I know of a good spot which was quite productive last year.