Shelter Cove - 6/26/25 & Trinidad - 6/27/25

Had a couple of clients at a couple of different locations this past week.  For each of them, it was their first time kayak fishing.  They were in their 50's but younger than me!   

Thursday with Dawn.  The forecast wasn't ideal, and I knew there was a high likelihood of there being confused seas out front at the Cove, as the north wind has been howling lately - windiest spring/early summer in a bit...

Dawn was eager to get on this adventure, and I loved that.  She wanted to show up earlier than I'd originally laid out, so I got to the launch even earlier than planned, to get the boats and gear ready prior to her arrival.  At 6AM sharp she pulled down the hill and found me - easy task since I was the only one there!  With no salmon fishing, the usual crowd of anglers is nowhere to be found, and the heavy minus tide factored in too, as the powerboats waited until a bit later in the morning to launch. 

Dawn and I got introduced, I hooked her up with wetsuit/booties/paddle jacket/PFD, downed my low-carb yogurt and granola with some top quality  native blackberries, and we were ready for a quick lesson on how to work the rod and reel.  I had her on a new setup with a mid range Shakespeare with a line counter and a "who's that?" brand of rod with a little flex at the tip and plenty of backbone.  As is the case with basically any noob to both the kayaking and the fishing, Dawn was taking it all in as best she could, but there's a lot to learn all at once.  No worries - I assured her that I'd coach her through all the steps as the action unfolded.

By 630 or so we were ready to launch.  I had her on an X-Factor with a new Lowrance unit - so glad when it fired up, as I'd just embedded the 'ducer in the Goop less than 48 hours before we met.  We headed out of the harbor and got her acquainted with the kayak, which she loved.  At 5'4" and in good shape, she'd have no problem with balance on the big boat, and since she's a backpacker and mountaineer, I figured she'd be fine to paddle for hours, as is the requirement on such assignments.

After getting her feeling at ease with the paddle, I hooked her up with a basic trolling setup after showing her how I monitor and deploy the same gear on my setup.  I pinned on a brined chove, had her confirm that the spreader was laid out properly and the bait looked good, told her to make sure she's moving while deploying, and soon she was fishing a trolled bait a few feet off the bottom.  It's not rocket science, but to those who've never done it, it may be daunting.

As we got a few hundred meters outside of the moorings the slop from offshore started to show itself, but I could see over off of the point that the ocean was plenty fishable.  It wasn't a day to go out to the Whistle, but the point would accommodate us for the rockfish and lingcod hunt.  We eased over to the west as I showed her how to use the sonar to identify when she'd need to either reel up or speed up in order to avoid snagging, and I trained her on how she'd need to react to a variety of different circumstances that would eventually arise.

What was really cool during all of this, is that Dawn was having a ball!  She'd said that she may end up just taking pictures, but I knew that I could get her fishing effectively without much effort on her part or mine.  Once we were off the point and facing the full brunt of the wind slop, Dawn was answering my frequent enquiries about her comfort level with strong affirmations and plenty of joy.  When we'd not had a bite for the first hour or more, she proclaimed that she loved it out there and she'd be fine if that was all the trip amounted to!  I wasn't having it, and I reiterated that the Cove is the only port I fish out of where I guarantee that we'll catch fish!

Somewhere around the two hour mark we still hadn't had a scratch, and we were touring around, checking pinnacles from in front of the lighthouse over toward the Bell.  Dawn was doing great, and that's a great gift to a guide when there's a slow bite.  I love introducing people to the sport, and I do fill people with the truth about how kayak fishing is a different kind of gig where the overall experience is about way more than just the fishing - it's about exercise, challenge, discovery, wildlife viewing and interaction, nature appreciation and personal fulfillment.  That's all 100% true, but of course the fish add greatly to the experience.

As with all new-to-kayak-fishing clients, I interview my guests carefully about whether they've been on the ocean before, whether they've ever gotten seasick, whether they've taken meds for it...etc.  Dawn had confirmed that she'd never been seasick even though she'd been out on powerboats, and she'd opted to use a patch behind the ear just in case.  This was great - once I've made it very clear in the interview process that it's a critical priority to know about that vulnerability, I feel that I've done my due diligence and can focus on the work at hand.

I knew we had hours to go on this trip - as long as the wind held off - but I really wanted a bite to come!  Boom!  A lingcod answered my prayers.  I worked it up, saw it was legal, got it netted, and Dawn was loving it and learning all about how it works as she spectated from 20 feet away.  The "fresh fish guarantee" was fulfilled, but getting her on a fish was my focus.

Boom...  A different kind of surprise was now upon us.  After like 2 and a half hours of riding the slop, Dawn announced, "I'm suddenly sick."  I immediately told her, "let's head for calmer water", and I could see that she was looking to heave - that fast! - so I said, "don't worry about leaning over the side of the yak - just puke in your lap if you have to - it all gets washed."  She went on to jettison the sandwich she'd downed like 15 minutes prior - it took about five iterations.  I told her that it can be very hard to shake the queaze, but once you throw up it's likely you feel better at least for a while.  Within a couple of minutes she was fine.  I offered that we'd go in closer to the harbor and get out of the slop, but she insisted that she felt just as good as she had for the first two hours.  So we stayed out.

Another hour or so passed, and a greenling showed up.  I'm not that into keeping greenling, but it was a very slow bite - did I mention the minus two foot tide at 8AM?...  Yeah, the tide had the bite all fucked up, but we were on the board.  Not long after the greenie, another ling came.  I had my limit of 24 to 25 inchers plus the greenling, but I really wanted to get Dawn on the tug.  She was fine either way, but the day was still young.

With the bite not impressing anyone, we headed inshore and found that the water around the harbor had warmed up quite a bit since we'd launched.  I'd gotten some intell from a buddy that a few Cali's have been caught on the days when the water warms, so we'd tow chove down the beach and enjoy some mellower seas.

The next hour saw a few snags but no lost gear, and Dawn was still just loving the experience - again, a gift to me that she's the type to always be finding the half-full part.  We got down the coast about as far as I wanted to go since the north wind was forecast to start pumping by noon, and a couple of powerboaters were also prospecting for a flat kind.  Nobody was doing much, and it can be hard to find more than a few small rockfish and underlings on the inside, but...   BOOM!  We got on a hot little bite that included a couple of stout grassies and a little pile of blacks - including Dawn's first fish!

With the bite turning on as the tide was getting toward high, I knew we were in jeopardy of burning it down by staying out too long, but I finally had her fighting fish and effectively trolling and avoiding snags.  She was loving it, and the conditions were primo, with the typical no-show by the wind at the Cove. 

As we approached the 8 hours on the water mark, I told her we'd better bail and get our catch filleted or we'd end up too torched without realizing it.  I can burn it down all day, but Dawn was testing this 56 year old bod!

We headed for launch, towing some flash as a last minute attempt to bag a hali, and soon we were on the beach just after high tide.  With the sun out and the water receding for the afternoon, the locals were out in force, enjoying the beach and creating a festive atmosphere.  It's a perfect scene for the Tailgate Fillet Station.  I told Dawn to feel free to head to her rental, freshen up, grab a bite and a drink or whatever, and I'd load the gear and see her in 30 minutes or so for the Traditional Stringer Display shot and the fillet session.

The rest of the day went down like so many others, and it was 530PM before I was heading up the hill for home.  Dawn had taken good care of me with a generous tip, and she was thrilled to be heading home with 2 lings and 8 rockfish, bled, boneless and bagged up on ice, ready to share with her people.

I adopted a policy of not doing back to back days a few years ago, but I'd gotten a call from another newb, Jorge, two days before my trip with Dawn.  He's new to Trinidad, so that would be our fishing location.  I originally suggested Sunday, but Friday's forecast looked better and I figured I could pull off the back-to-backer...  Ugh... 

By the time I got home from fishing with Dawn it was after 7PM, and I'd been up since 3AM.  My wife had dinner ready for me, and I'd already set out the gear I'd need for Jorge.  I'd wear my same sweaty/bloody/slimy/pissy gear from Thursday, and Jorge would be on the same X-Factor with the new sonar, using the same rod that Dawn had broken in so well.

I crashed by 9PM, but it's hard to sleep after pumping all day - even when you're torched from the sun and fun and 18 hours of activity.  Friday's alarm was set for 5AM, as I'd need to get to Trinidad by 6AM, set up the gear, and meet Jorge at 630.  I suck at sleeping all the way to the alarm though, so I laid in bed unable to sleep anymore after 4AM.  Finally got up at 445, and I was on the road just after 5AM.

Pulled into Trinidad and was glad the fog wasn't down on the deck.  The harbor was glassy, and the outside looked better than last week, when nasty wind chop had me and another guest, Alan, fishing the harbor for a fat skunk, other than an underling...  (did I forget to post that trip?   ) 

I love arriving well before my guests so I can have everything ready when they do show up.  This was the case with Jorge.  We met, I hooked him up with the immersion gear, showed him the kayak and rod/reel setup, and we were launched by about 7AM.  It was a replay of the previous day, with the showing, the learning, the testing of how well the guest does with the chop - which was much more mild at T-dad, since the north winds haven't been as bad up here as they've been down at the Cove lately - and, the unwanted similarity:  the minus tide had the bite non-existent...

We prospected around in front of the Head for an hour or so, and a fog breeze coupled with a north-to-south current had us working to make progress to the north.  I'd take us up wind/up current, and by the time we got out in front Trinidad State Beach I figured I'd know if Jorge felt comfortable enough to head straight out from there and possibly get around to the west side of Flatiron and drift the current and breeze back down toward the Whistle where, by that time, the incoming tide would hopefully allow us to get on at least a few fish.

I feel a bit bad about telling my clients at other ports (T-dad, Humboldt Bay...) that Shelter Cove is the only place that I actually guarantee that we catch fish, but a couple hours in to not getting bit, that was what I found myself reciting to Jorge.  No worries - he seemed comfortable on the kayak and was picking up the fishing/not getting snagged techniques well, just like Dawn had.  We had nice conversation, got to know each other a bit, and Jorge was very understanding about the lack of a bite.  "That's why they call it fishing and not catching..."  haha...

With that fog breeze not really backing off (which was the typical, bizarre happenstance, since the Cove forecast had been 15 to 25 with gusts to 35 and the wind never came, and our T-dad forecast was 5 to 10 becoming 10 to 15 in the afternoon...), and the ocean being pretty chill other than some annoying chop, I asked Jorge if he felt comfortable heading offshore to go around the big rock a half mile to our west - the one with all the bird shit on it.  He was all about it, so we headed that direction.  The minus tide was still in force, and some of my old favorite spots to find a ling or a school of blacks were too shallow and had boilers going off.  A snag had us drifting toward the danger zone, so after getting that taken care of I had us keeping our lines up and we'd just paddle out to the north side of Flatiron before deploying again. 

With the tide starting to come in, NW wind coupled with that current had a little potato patch to navigate through right at the most exposed corner of Flatiron.  I counted on the stability of the X and Jorge's good conditioning and apparent ease and comfort with the gear, and soon we were around the bad corner and starting the drift on the open ocean side of the big rock.  The water was much better as we got to the south side, and I had us hanging anchovies in 70-80 feet of clear water, assuring Jorge that the fish will come find it, so don't worry about getting too close to the bottom. 

Kaboom! - I brought up a black that was so appreciated, as our first bite of the day.

It wasn't long before Jorge was on one too.  He brought up a nicer black, I got it netted, and we were building some success.  Once I got us on a set of pinnacles that have been a regular part of my Trinidad focus, I got us turned around, facing the current and breeze, and we'd work to keep our lines as straight up and down as we could, easing closer to the abrupt pinnacles and hoping for more of a bite to develop.

Jorge got a good lesson in how the fishfinders can tend to lie - as you see the bottom contour showing blackness jutting up, but the depth figure in the upper left hand corner stays at like 80'...  Then, as you're thinking, "that doesn't look like a bait ball..." the sonar then suddenly announces, "oh, it's 40' now!"  Trinidad is like that - very abrupt pinnacles that will snag even the most careful of practitioners.  Important lessons about not having your drag too tight when you snag up in current also occurred, and I do highly value teaching the lessons that aren't always directly tied to catching...

We were fishing effectively, but the constant breeze for a few hours at that point, along with an overcast sky and 48-49 degree water, had us on a trajectory for a shorter session than Dawn and I had enjoyed in the sunshine of the Cove the day before.  I was ready to stick it out though, and we could surely manage more than one black rockfish apiece (please, God!  ).

Boom...  I was on a lingcod, and it had some shoulders.  I'd been coaching Jorge on how to set the hook and then to lift and reel down to the fish, instead of reeling against the loose-set drag and not even having the spool turning.  So now I got to give the full-on demonstration as Jorge watched from right by me.  The ling took a couple of runs, and I told my guest what I was doing as I thumbed the spool a bit, stopped and then turned the fish, and got it up.  I got the net ready when my lyin-counter told me the fish was only 25 feet down, and then it was up and in the bag.  12 pounder was skinny for a 33.5 inch model, and Jorge knew what had gone into achieving what we did. 

It had been a bit of a slog in the breeze, through the potato patch, dealing with the strong current, learning the ropes of trying to have a high line angle in deep water, and not getting tipped or having to jettison a rod when snagged in that current.  I felt good about the teachings - for both days and both clients, and I was very thankful for the bite that turned on for Dawn and I as well as the mediocre bite but highly prized catches that happened for Jorge and I.

After the ling came up, it being around noon, I told Jorge that we should head for the harbor and maybe prospect around in there.  He was good with that, so we towed herring on the way in, didn't encounter any additional biters, the wind came up a bit more, and by the time we were at the moorings I suggested that we're just going to fight the wind for a tough/absent bite in the harbor.  Jorge was fine with just wrapping it up.  I kind of wished I hadn't told him how Dawn had kept me out for 8 hours on the water the day before - not just because it had burnt me down a bit for the second day's trip, but because I shouldn't have taken a chance that I was setting an expectation for the hours we'd spend for the money he'd part with.  I'm sensitive to these things for sure, but I'm honest in the end...  It's a good fault to have, even if it can get me in a pinch at times.

So Jorge and I hit the beach.  He called his wife to come get him and then had to make some work calls, so I put up the gear and got ready to fillet the catch.  We soon got our Traditional Stringer Display shot, and then I made quick work of ALL 3 fish ( ) at the TFS, before sending Jorge off with the bagged and boneless bounty.  I might not have earned a tip, or Jorge may not have known that I really wanted one even though we only spent a little over 5 hours on the water, but it's all good.  I was burnt!

I used to do 3 and 4 days in a row, but the trips weren't as long and intense.  It's also the case that my business is way down without salmon.  I'm not looking for sympathy - I just like to write out my true details and how I felt in the moment.  Putting these trips in words, sharing the photos, and learning more about myself and my guests through the whole process is extremely rewarding - you need to know that, as the reader here.

There's a lot more going on in kayak fishing than just the catching, and there's way more to guiding than just coordinating a plan with the forecast, the gear, the newness, the hazards, the tides/winds/currents, sudden-onset seasickness...etc., etc., etc.

The essence of these trips is about human interaction, and what my guests get out of it is largely up to them.  My job, as the guide, is to open the door to another world, in a sense, and I cherish the responsibility as much as the opportunity that's present in each and every moment of it.

This is a special sport with very special people all around it.  I thank you for the interest and the kinship.   

Keep it real, NCKA.   

Now we'll see if I can post all my photos...

Not bitching (too much), but it sucks a bit when photo-posting fail occurs with some regularity anymore. 

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Friday...

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Thats what was quite a read!  Great story telling..

Thanks for that! I love reading your trip accounts.

Thanks for another great story and pictures Eric.

Thanks, fellas.   

You get your merit badges for reading 3500+ words.   

Bunch of good words right there! I'm going to have to request some longer break times. 

Mornings break I was with you at The Cove scratching for a low tide bite that panned out, then lunch break was able to finish that and make my way up to Trinidad's rocky pinnacles off Flat Iron.

Thanks for the detailed reports Eric!

Mornings break I was with you at The Cove scratching for a low tide bite that panned out, then lunch break was able to finish that and make my way up to Trinidad's rocky pinnacles off Flat Iron.

Glad you could make it, Michael!   

Mornings break I was with you at The Cove scratching for a low tide bite that panned out, then lunch break was able to finish that and make my way up to Trinidad's rocky pinnacles off Flat Iron.

Glad you could make it, Michael!   

Me too!

I like the part about the granola and yogurt.