Shelter Cove - 6/20/22

Kerry and Greg came up from Lakeport to fish with me for their third season running.  If you're seeing a theme in the past several posts, thanks for following!  I cherish the opportunity to meet people through my business, and building on those relationships with further correspondence and followup trips allows for the potential for great friendships to bloom.  Whether we hit it off due to similar outlooks on the world or just as a result of embracing a shared desire for fellowship and joy on our day together, the connections made with 'my people' are really the foundation of what I'm trying to accomplish as a guide.

Having knocked out two years in a row of really wonderful trips with these two where we managed to land salmon and halibut along with the rock species, I looked forward to seeing how we could top the past outings with maybe a limit of chrome or a bigger flatty.  Maybe more than looking forward to it, I actually imposed that level of expectation on myself to raise the bar, as it were.  There's nothing wrong with that, and I hope and fully expect my guests to have similar aspirations for our time together.

So our day was approaching, and I could see that the seemingly endless Spring winds of late were dominating the forecast.  10 to 20 knots with gusts to 30 from the north or NW has proven to be fishable most of the time at the Cove over the years, but last Saturday's trip with Evan had a little better forecast than that, and the wind had come on strong by noon.  Seeing that a Small Craft Advisory was now up for our day, with the call at 15 to 25 knot winds and all of the forecast pages indicating that a calm morning window looked brief and maybe even not in the cards, I felt like Kerry, Greg and I should consider postponing our annual fishing adventure. 

I called Greg and let him know that the forecast had bumped up to not looking so good.  He was understanding, but as we talked about potential dates later in the summer and all they have scheduled with family and work, it was sounding like we might not be able to get together this year.  Cancelling a trip isn't something that I enjoy or take lightly, but I never want to push the limits of safety or abuse the guest relationship by using a strategy of just crossing my fingers and hoping for the best.  I had to offer to forgo the trip due to the likely potential for unfishable weather.  I did suggest that we could float the South Fork of the Eel as an alternative, but K&G were all about the fishing opportunity - they were all about getting offshore at the Cove.

Other than fishing desire, there was a reservation at the Inn to consider too.  My guests got married in late 2019, and we did our first outing together in the Fall of 2020.  By the time we went out for our second trip together in the Summer of '21, Kerry and Greg still hadn't been able to have their delayed wedding reception due to covid.  So earlier this month they got that done with like 200 friends and family, and even though it was a no-gifts affair, some of their closest besties had sprung for their stay at The Tides Inn when we'd do our trip in 2022.  This reservation was already paid for, and by the time the forecast bumped up to looking shitty, it was too late to change their dates.

Early on Saturday Greg texted me with their decision:  "we're gonna roll the dice and go for it."

This was a gift to me, and I felt very fortunate to be receiving it.  I've not had to cancel or alter a late Spring/Summer date at the Cove many times at all over 9 seasons of guiding down there, so putting someone in a position of either having to take a hit by paying a cancellation fee or going on a Shelter Cove weekend without being able to go fishing as planned isn't something I'm accustomed to.  I'd given my best advisory and opened the door for doing something else for the day or nullifying the trip altogether - it was all I could do, and I wasn't thrilled about it.  Now though, Greg had basically taken some of that weight off of me by accepting the fact that we might only get an hour or two on the water before the wind came, or we might not fish at all.  Even if the morning air was calm, the call of 9' at 9 seconds meant that there'd likely be some nasty slop out front of the point, and that's where the fish have been biting lately.

The plan was set.  I got everything ready on Father's Day - my only day off for the week.  This was a fully outfitted trip - kayaks and gear, fishing equipment and partial immersion wear.  Sunday evening I considered whether we might pivot to Tuesday since both they and I had that open, but Tuesday's forecast looked just as marginal.  Monday was our day, and if I got down there with all the gear and the wind didn't let us on the water maybe I'd crash on a couch somewhere at the Cove and we'd go Tuesday.  The sanctity of the trip - any of my trips - means that much to me for sure, and the relationship with my guests hangs over all of it.  It may not be good to create and maintain that kind of pressure on oneself, but another way of looking at it is that it may be the best thing for you.  From a paradox can emerge a philosophy, I once said, late at night in a thread about who knows what on Nor Cal Kayak Anglers, many years ago.  I'd embrace that notion to help me through this - not just to get through it, but to find a way to triumph in my efforts to make good for my people.

325AM:  my alarm woke me from a deep sleep.  Last Summer my alarm barely ever went off - I'd wake up before it almost every time.  I was tired yesterday, and I knew part of it was due to worrying about how this trip wasn't fitting into my ideal setup.  I'd been given that gift though - the chance to take my guests out to try to accomplish something great on an ocean that might fight us and with wind that might defeat us.  They'd chosen to allow me to take them in less than ideal conditions, and I can only do that with people who have been out with me before.

As I came over Paradise Ridge there were a few fir boughs on the pavement, and the trees were waving in the darkness of just before 5AM, like they were there to keep me keenly aware of what I was headed for - it was all about my responsibility to do the right thing.  If the wind was on right from the get go, I'd cancel the trip and hang out with my guests for the day to try to help them have fun on their wedding-gifted stay at the Inn.  There'd be no business transaction - only an earnest attempt to keep the relationship good, so that we could aim for another date in the future and hope for the best in the meantime.

Once I saw the flag hanging limp at the SCVFD up on the hill above the launch, I knew that we'd at least be able to get on the water.  Now the concern would be finding a fish without pushing too far out front where the slop would be waiting to test us.

Kerry and Greg arrived at the ramp right on time at 545AM, and I had all the gear out and ready.  After a quick refresher on the fishing setups and the paddling platforms we were pushing off by just after 6 o'clock.  A charter boat soon followed - it was Jarred on his big Boston Whaler.  We greeted each other on the radio, and Jarred said he'd probably be staying local - the water was really snotty out front with that 9' @ 9 seconds coming through as an unorganized mess of peaks and occasional riffle-tops that aren't as bad as breaking waves but still bad enough.

I'd gotten the three of us hooked up on the best tray anchovies available, and I was just hoping that any species would bite our trolled offerings before having to venture out too far into the messy seas.  My primary concern though, as always, was whether my guests were comfortable on the kayaks.  Any seasickness would mean an immediate retreat back to the protection of the cove where we'd hope to find a halibut or any other biter in the nearshore area.  That prospect didn't seem likely or at all desirable though, with the 49 degree sea temp and nothing happening in that zone lately.

Kerry and Greg were great - very comfortable on the overstable kayaks that they'd paddled on two previous trips, and they weren't overly concerned about the nasty water.  This was another gift to me.  Like I said, I don't push the limits of safety, but fishable water is sometimes on the gnarly side - that's why I use the boats that I do.  The confidence that my guests had in both the equipment and my judgment in that moment is a guide reward that is crucial and highly valued - now we just needed to find some fish.

With barbless gear, high quality bait and strategies that I've learned and honed for decades, our hope was to find a salmon near the point.  The kings started strong at the Cove in May, but lately it's been slow for all who've been trying.  A few fish had been caught the day before, and the schools we dream about could arrive any day.  Greg got us on the board first - nice black rockfish to the yak.  We'd found a little school and managed to pick a few off.  I kept adjusting our position, checking to make sure my people were feeling safe and having fun, and over the course of the next couple of hours the ocean managed to go from shitty to surprisingly clean.  Magic Seaweed's call of winds below 10 knots at 9AM (and ONLY 9AM) panned out.  Our mid to late morning turned out to be gorgeous! 

The catching wasn't the best ever, but we managed to put up 4 lingcod and a pile of rockfish for my guests.  When the whitecaps started showing out past the Whistle I advised that the 'sheep' could be in on us in 10 minutes, or I've also seen them stay outside all day - even on marginal forecasts like this day's call.  We stayed near the point, scratched out a few more rockfish and eventually headed back to the inside where Jarred had announced a bunch of murres and pelicans outside the moorings as he'd landed to finish what had to be a rough half day for his guests.

We finished our session with an hour on the inside water trolling those high quality anchovies through baitballs with birds - all the signs that we want to see to find the salmon.  But even with the water warming up to 53-54 degrees by midday near shore, the shiny predators that we were looking for hadn't yet arrived in numbers. 

Content with the hours we'd spent and the fish on our stringers, we headed for the launch where we captured stringer display photos and cracked cold beers that were rewards for our efforts as well as celebrations of our good fortune for having been able to fish on the rough seas.

With the midday sun blazing and the north wind blocked by the point, the launch beach was alive with locals and a few tourists playing on the sand and in the water.  Kerry, Greg and I took some time to appreciate the moment before I sent them to the Inn to freshen up while I loaded all the gear back on my truck.  We met back up at the fillet table since I'd forgotten my tailgate board, and the next couple of hours were spent taking care of the fish, visiting with local friends and basking in the satisfaction of having pulled off a successful fishing day in the face of uncertainty.

Kerry and Greg are a joy to be around, and they're the type of people who are in good enough physical condition and have a strong thirst for adventure that allowed them to meet the challenges that came from the circumstances of our trip.  If something had gone wrong in the messy seas, we were equipped to deal with it, and if the fish didn't bite for us, I'm sure they were likely ready to handle that better than I would have!  The bottom line is that my guests, my people - my friends - had come into this trip with more than just readiness for challenge.  Through their attitudes, their posture and knowing their own abilities they'd displayed positivity and resilience that armed them to overcome obstacles or setbacks that we might have faced.  As a guide, I try to always be ready with those attributes, and I know that part of my guests' confidence and joy is based in my own display of those qualities.  We feed off of each other in that way.

In life we are given many choices about not just what to do when the forecast looks shitty but how to act and how to think when faced with adversity.  A great test of who we are and how our lives will play out lies in our reactions when the pressure is on.  It's all part of a balance that not only takes special energy to create and maintain, but it also gives special energy as we work toward finding our way and hopefully achieving our triumphs.  What I'm talking about is way more related to spirituality than it is to fishing, kayaking or enjoying beer in the midday sun with grins that grew from catching lingcod while riding rodeo swells. 

It was getting near the dinner hour when Kerry, Greg and I completed our business deal and said our goodbyes.  My guests and I were in a very good space - so exhilarated to have faced the challenge of the ocean for the hours that we wanted to and to have brought home some nice fish as our rewards.  It couldn't have mattered less that they weren't trophies. 

I do this for pay, and I hope to earn a fat tip too, but that will never mean that the friendships and the spiritual nature of these activities are any less genuine.  On the contrary - the transactional nature of these unique adventures has allowed me to focus very acutely on providing something much deeper and more valuable than what I thought that outdoor guiding would be like when I started this gig.

Thank you, Kerry and Greg, for choosing to roll the dice and to tap into the passion that makes meeting a challenge make us feel so alive.  I can't wait for our next trip together.

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Nice work! A bit shloppy out there, thanks for the nice read while I had my lunch.

Thanks for the awesome write up and pictures Eric.