Shelter Cove - 8/29/24

Ben and Paul engaged me for a Cove day this week.  Like so many of my guests, the guys have been out with me on a number of occasions - the first being out of Trinidad, years ago.  This time around we'd planned to go out on Wednesday, but Thursday's forecast looked a bit better as we started the week.  So we shifted our date, and that's always a gamble! 

The sometimes funky south winds of late August can throw a wrench in the works, as typical Summertime patterns of easy mornings and increasing afternoon north and NW winds start to give way to a new weather regime with the approaching change in seasons.  There's an old fisherman's saying that relates to this:  "When the wind blows from the south, the fish close their mouth."

I've experienced this phenomenon before, and it's not just about the bite.  Shelter Cove is aptly named, but its protection from the elements is extremely prejudiced toward the prevailing north winds.  When it comes to south wind or swell, the Cove can be directly in the line of fire.  This means that instead of a slick ocean and tiny little ankle-lappers in the harbor and at the launch to start the day, we are faced with not just a cold breeze in your face as you launch, but all that wind fetch over many miles to the south is adding up to sloppy conditions and sometimes even a hazardous sea-state.  It can all result in a discouraging start or even throwing in the towel and cancelling the trip.

Yesterday's ocean wasn't as bad as I've intimated with my opening here, but the south wind was present right from the start, and the offshore waters looked anything but inviting.  My guys though, having fished on their own on Wednesday and having had some new experiences verging on catastrophe on some levels(!), showed up right on time, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.  I'd been at the ramp since o-dark-thirty, and setting up the gear while hoping the wind backs off and the ocean chills out isn't my ideal mindset.  My spirits were lifted by the readiness of my guests, and this circumstance is as welcome as it is familiar.  You see, we feed off of each in that way in this business of fishing.  There are no guarantees with the ocean, the weather, the wind, and especially with the fish.  So we do our best to plan, using forecasts and assembling the right gear, and it can be easy to slip up on one of the most important tools in the kit - the half-full outlook.

After getting reacquainted at the ramp first thing in the morning, I was stoked to read in Paul's and Ben's attitudes that they were energized by their current position, which was right in the middle of an ocean adventure trip!  My guests shared with me how the previous day had south wind as well, and even though they'd caught some fish, the catching wasn't as good as they had hoped, and the ocean had brought unexpected challenges.

For me, not knowing that they would fish on Wednesday anyway after we changed our date, my first thought was "we should've just stayed with Wednesday!"  But I was wrong.  The fact that the guys had been out without me the day before was only adding to the hype and expectation for our day.  The south wind and ugly sea surface that we'd launch into had me feeling like I didn't know if I could pull off an epic Day Two for them, but, again, I was wrong.

It's good to be wrong sometimes, and to really feel it while you figure that out.

By about quarter to seven I was finishing my bowl of Cheerios as the guys stood ready at their boats, watching as the last of the tuna fleet launched right before us.  I felt hopeful for sure - it's required in this line of work, but a realization of how challenging it might be to find new success and excitement in the face of the conditions had me already consoling myself about how all trips can't be homeruns or ice cream parties.

"It's good to be wrong sometimes"

We launched onto the slop, and immediately after turning the corner of the end of the breakwater, little wind waves were wetting our bows, and if one stopped paddling he'd go backwards at a good clip.  I sensed no trepidation from my guests, and I was dead-set on not letting them sense any from me.  We headed left toward the shallows where the California halibut bite had been hot three to four weeks previous.  With gear deployed just past the moorings, I offered limited instruction, as my guys know their way through the routines of the tackle and the bait and the sonar and the line counting.  Where I did go, with my morning guide chat, was to reviewing episodes of what has been caught where, and how we'd hope to find our own bite on this unique day.  I would professionally chase the half-full part for as many hours as the wind would allow us to be on the water - I cannot overstate my determination to do so in that moment.  My guys followed along, believing in my ability to guide them, and when the first bites came it was "progress" toward finding some of the success that we hoped for.

The halibut were a no-show, having moved on or having already been caught by someone else!  Paul brought up a legal lingcod though, so we were on the board.  Over the first couple of hours the ocean had stayed shitty, but as we let the wind push us back toward the harbor from a mile or so to the south, things seemed to mellow out just a bit.  I suggested that it was time for us to head for the reef.

With the forecast calling for the south wind to really ramp up by early afternoon, it wasn't a day to head all the way out to the Whistle, so we haunted the lighthouse point and worked against the breeze, aiming for the Bell Buoy but never getting there - because we kept catching fish!

We would go on to build respectable stringers, do another pass through the halibut grounds on the way in, and celebrate a good day at the Tailgate Fillet Station before my guys headed their separate directions, each with coolers full of freshest fillets and smiles to match.

I was left there, alone at the ramp reflecting on the morning's metamorphosis, which was about improvement in the weather and the development of a decent bite, but, way more, it was a testament to positivity in the face of challenge.  It was Paul and Ben who really made it happen.  I'm just the facilitator; a very, very fortunate man.

Thank you, so much.

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Thanks for the fishing report. The Cove is a special place. 

Nice stringers you guys got there  . Thanks for the great report and pictures Eric.