Shelter Cove - 6/6/22

Eric from Reno engaged me for a Cove trip several weeks back.  As our date neared, he let me know that he might bring a friend - Pat.  A few days prior to the trip I called Eric and we moved from Sunday to Monday due to the storm over the weekend.  My go-to forecast pages all indicated that the weather would clear up by Sunday afternoon, and Monday was looking very good for both light winds and low swells.  On the same call, Eric confirmed that his fishing buddy Pat would indeed join us.  They'd travel on Sunday from Reno, land in Redway and stay in a hotel there, planning to drive over the King Range to meet me at the Cove at 530AM on Monday.  Sunday morning came, and Eric called right before they were to leave Nevada en route to the Cove.  I had just checked the latest forecast, and, as has periodically occurred just about every spring since the late 80's when I began following forecasts, they'd bumped up the call to a Small Craft Advisory with winds 15 to 25 knots and gusts to 35 accompanied by a messy 6' swell at 6 seconds.  I assured Eric that I've seen this happen many times, and that the Cove has come through with great water and light wind on many occasions when the forecast gets big and ugly like that from the north.  Eric took my word and trusted my professional judgment, and I was only a bit nervous about having my guys come from out of state when we could potentially be sidelined for the day by Mother Nature.

As I drove Shelter Cove road in the dark yesterday I watched for the trees up on Paradise Ridge to be swaying in the wind and for newly broken off fir boughs on the pavement - I've seen these things before on many such drives.  I was greatly encouraged when the air was still and the road was clean, and as I pulled down onto the launch ramp at 515 I could feel my eyes widen and my lips curl a bit at the sight of a smooth ocean as far as I could see.

When my guys arrived I had my gear all laid out and ready.  I helped them unload their gigantic kayaks, and they quickly and efficiently put together their kits and were ready to launch by about 630.  Both Eric and Pat have motors on their yaks - powered by lithium batteries the size of car batteries!  I've had a couple of guests over the years who had propulsion other than paddles or pedals, and I'm probably a bit biased against such things.  Kayaking is meant to be a people-powered pursuit, in my opinion, but I'm trying to be more tolerant!  My main concern is whether the boat and the person on board will be able to get back to the launch if conditions deteriorate or a gear issue arises.  What I could tell from watching them prep themselves for the day though was that these men were ready and eager.  They had proper immersion gear and appeared fit for the challenges that we might face on the water.  All systems were go.

We launched before any of the powerboats, and I was pretty amazed at how flat and glassy it was even as we made our way past the point and out front.  I'd had the guys keep it aimed toward the Bell Buoy before we turned on to the reef, and very soon I realized that the usual SE to NW current was upside down - we were being pushed toward the southeast this day.  Must've been the after effects of the storm; no worries - assessing the current is part of the checklist and the training on every trip.  Soon though I could see that this wasn't just an average current.  I had us aim toward an area north of the Whistle, and half an hour later it was apparent that we were only progressing straight toward it.  I kept the guys aware of how different this was from the usual, and we stayed with the plan.  The water just got better and better, and by the time we got to the red can my main concern was how we'd get our gear down in the current.  A half pound of lead can seem like a little bag of feathers when it's up against a rip like this, and sometimes the only way to get down is to go with the flow, which results in ending up way down current in no time flat.  If the wind came up from the northwest on top of the current, we would need to work to get out of a major tractor beam situation.

I had told Eric on the phone that with the two of them having motors I would be paddling around chasing them all day, and Eric had suggested that they could tow me anywhere that we wanted to go.  I scoffed at such a notion!  As we approached the Whistle though, I was sweating harder than usual just from battling the current in a 'power slide' toward the can even though I was aimed well north of it.  I was becoming more interested in that tow job now, but only to facilitate the fishing day - I am resolute in my dedication to not surpassing my own abilities in terms of situations on the water. 

So we drop gear, and I'm instructing the guys on how to work the tackle without letting it get caught up on itself in the current.  We'd drift-troll with the flow toward the southeast and then go back 'up the hill' to do it again.  Luckily the fish were biting, so any difficulties with conditions would be alleviated by getting some keepers on the stringers.  With the water somehow glassing off even more, my guys having a ball on their first kayak outing on the ocean, and the King Range looming above the northern horizon, ablaze in vibrant green shades of having just been watered by a few inches of rain, our time out there was awesome!

I was comfortably able to paddle against the current to get back up the hill for several drifts that we did, and I did take Eric up on a tow job here and there.  The guys put together nice stringers with several different species, and by midday the wind was still absent.  We were working our way inside the buoy aiming to gradually fish our way to the point when Captain Mitchell on the Sea Hawk hailed me on the VHF - "looks like the whitecaps are coming..."  I looked up and saw them a mile or more west of us, and I knew from years of fishing the Cove that the sheep could be on us in a matter of minutes, or they might stay out there.  You don't bet on that - you play it safe, especially with the current that the wind would be on top of if it came.

We trolled our way toward the point, stopping only briefly to string another couple of black rockfish and quickly re-bait, and by the time we entered the harbor the wind was just arriving off the point.  We landed at the sunny launch with an early afternoon crowd of beach goers building.  The tide was still low enough to have plenty of space to put the gear away, capture the traditional stringer display photos and set to work processing the catch at the Tailgate Fillet Station.  Ice cold beer combined with the fishing success and compounded by the relief felt by all of us regarding our good fortune with the morning conditions led to long-lasting afternoon smiles and a feeling of genuine contentment that hung in the air around us like a halo.  We'd been blessed with the gifts of the Cove, and our anticipation had metamorphosed into pure joy.

With the last of the boneless fillets of lingcod and rockfish Ziploc'd up and stowed in a cooler bound for Reno, my guests and I settled the day's deal, shook hands and parted ways.  Eric and Pat both expressed what a great time they'd had, and even though that's my goal and what I expect from every trip, I was especially glad on this day to have helped them achieve success while fishing in that current.

I've been working on myself and how hurt I am about some things in our country.  I don't want to be bitter and projecting any negativity.  I know that one of my special powers is rooted in how I am able to find the half-full part and to tap into a positive flow in my life.  I aim to continue to hone the skills that enable me to provide inspiration to others and to help bring as much joy as I can.  Guiding can be like therapy in a way, and I'm looking forward to another session soon.  Thanks for sitting in.

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