Shelter Cove - 7/24 & 25/22

Scott signed up for a two day trip with me back in the Spring.  He was interested in salmon but also just looking to get more experience fishing offshore on his Viking Kayaks "Profish Reload" - a really sharp boat from New Zealand.  Look this yak up - it's hot!

As our trip window approached I was of course following several forecast pages, and all of them showed light winds and low swells for our days - it was looking ideal.  This being the summer of the upside down, late to revise, moving-target forecast, I should've known that the predictions for calm water could be off base.  Literally, the day before our trip the call went from flat with no wind to messy with a breeze - Sunday would have leftover wind slop from previous days' blows further offshore, but Monday was to be better. 

So we meet up early Sunday morning at the launch.  As we got acquainted I saw right away that Scott was super pumped for our trip.  He had all the right gear - killer boat, fishfinder, nice rod/reel setups, safety gear, immersion wear, radio...  Combined with his attitude, Scott was basically decked out and looking like the ideal guest who was ready for some sweet water and a hot bite.  Remember though, that I focus on controlling whatever variables that I can, and the two that are beyond my influence are the weather and the catching.

When I'd arrived at 530AM and set up my own gear there was a high ceiling and a few miles of visibility, but by the time we launched the fog had moved up the coast and pretty quickly obscured the viz to where we could only see a couple hundred yards at best.  No problema - I know my way around and have plenty of redundant navigation tools.

We set out on the water, and I started showing Scott how we'd fish.  As is my custom, we headed SSE through the fog toward the Bell Buoy, and before long we turned onto the reef to troll near the point.  The slop coming in from the open ocean was a mess, but Scott was really solid on his Profish.  We got into some black rockfish pretty quickly, and Scott and I were stoked to be finding some early success.  I had a few friends around who'd headed a bit further west to Bread and Butter, and they were soon on the radio advising that the water was really bad out there, with no salmon biting and steep swells tossing them around.  They were soon heading inshore, and Scott and I made the same move.

We'd spend the next few hours in the calmer water along the beach east and southeast of the harbor, hoping for a salmon but also looking for a halibut or whatever would take our bait.  At one point my buddy Josiah appeared out of the fog bank with his partner Dennis right behind him.  Jo announced that Dennis had just had a Great White Shark following him around - didn't touch him, but it was close and curious.  They were throwing in the towel for the day.  I'd find out later that it was the second day in a row that the Landlord had followed Dennis' kayak, and later I'd learn that friends Chris and Max had seen the Taxman too.

I am constantly gauging my guest's comfort level and stability on the open water, potential for seasickness, and, sometimes, their reaction to the news of a Great White being in our general vicinity.  Scott seemed undeterred by this news from Josiah, so we wished them well and continued down the beach to the southeast. 

We were maybe a mile southeast of the launch when what had otherwise been a pretty quiet radio all day came alive with someone having seen a kayak up on the rocks at the point.  The reporting party then announced that he could see the kayaker on the rock too, with a flare burning and using his whistle to bring attention to his crisis.  Soon there were several people responding - a dory got up to the guy, but the kayaker was hypothermic and couldn't get to the boat.  Shelter Cove Fire Rescue had been called, and the USCG checked in too.  It was soon determined that SC Rescue could get him, and that's what went down within about 20 minutes of the original report.  We heard all of this as we fished the nearshore - too far down the coast to have responded.  Sounds like the guy got his kayak back - who knows about other gear, and he was OK after some warming I think. 

There have been a few different groups of kayaks that I've seen or heard of this summer who have paddled around the breakwater and right toward the point.  It's the worst place to go - out of anywhere offshore of the launch!  Waves break over there all the time, and I teach everyone that I take out how it's hazardous to paddle west of Pilot Rock.  As a guide and someone who takes safety and responsible boating very seriously, this incident and other recent moves by boaters who are obviously unfamiliar with the Cove definitely leave me shaking my head. 

The balance of day 1 yielded several more rockfish that were released, and one legal halibut that was highly cherished.  We missed some other bites that felt like the right ones, but in all it was a great first day.  I commended Scott on his comfort and smooth running on the nasty water outside the point, and I acknowledged that his gear was top notch - all centered around that beautiful kayak.  He was stoked to have caught some fish and learned a lot about Shelter Cove and some of the ways that I target the different species. 

Our day 1 session at the Tailgate Fillet Station was really laid back, because I'd brokered a deal to crash for the night on the couch of a buddy down there.  The three of us ended up doing dinner together, and then it was off to dreamland where I'd try to get some decent hours of rest - something that can be challenging for me while away from my own crib!

Up at 5 and back down to the ramp just before dawn, I could feel a south breeze coming off the water.  At dinner the night before we'd looked at the latest forecasts, and pages like NWS, Windy.com and Magic Seaweed had gone from "Hunky-Dory" to not-so-good in day.  When it got light I could see a corduroy surface on the water, as the south wind was affecting everything right into the harbor - it's only "Shelter" Cove in regards to the usual north and NW influences of the season.  Even with the nasty looking chop, the ocean looked fishable and safe enough for at least nearshore trolling.  The concern on water like that is if the current conditions escalate, you don't want to be far from being able to bail out at port, and you're always best to have safety downwind of your position.

Scott arrived, I had my bowl of cereal as he assembled his kit, and we were soon on the water to begin day 2.  Right outside the breakwater we were immediately cutting through small wind waves, and our troll to the south over the next hour or so was a constant exercise in swiveling the hips, bracing for occasional bow splashers, and generally being fixated on our own safety and ability to fish. 

I checked in with my guest often to make sure he was feeling safe and having fun.  Check and check.  Scott was loving it out there.  On every part of our trip he displayed enthusiasm and positivity that brought and kept a smile on my face.  With the tough fishing conditions on that up and down surface, the bites were hard to come by.  Scott had one anchovy bit in half trolling mid column over sand, and that gave us hope, as it was likely a halibut or salmon.  We worked the area, felt how the paddling was at different angles to the swell, and were just getting ready to settle in to making this our day when the wind came up.   

We made our way to the northwest and into the harbor, and conditions were bad.  There were 3 foot breaking wind waves over the wash rock just past the end of the breakwater.  The only other kayaks - locals Dave and Harold - bailed out at the same time that we did, and a few of the powerboats called it as well.  The bigger boats stayed out, but it was no place for a kayak for sure.

We visited with Dave and Harold before they rolled out of town, and I told Scott that I'd stay all day if necessary to give us a chance at relaunching into better conditions.  For the next hour and a half to two hours we had some snacks, went over some of the different tackle that I use, and we'd occasionally walk over to the inside end of the breakwater where we'd get blown in the face by the south wind as we looked out and saw whitecaps coming from the open ocean and right into the harbor.
By just before the 11:15AM high tide conditions started to improve.  The whitecaps were gone, and the surface was looking about like it was when we'd first launched that morning - not very good, but do-able.  We gave it just a bit longer, knowing that the wind would have to die before the surface showed the change a bit later.  Once I was happy with the improvement, we launched again with a new plan.  We'd head for the point to find whatever we could and hope for conditions to allow us out further and to stay longer.

Right away we were going over very short period wind waves that were coming uncomfortably close to dunking my bow.  I thought about turning us around, but Scott was doing fine - he was thriving even.  His kayak was cutting the swells, and he assured me that his comfort level was high and his stability felt great.

Once we got to the point the conditions continued to improve, but the fish were pissed - they don't like south swells!  "When the wind blows from the south, the fish close their mouth."  It's a well known fisherman's saying, and it's especially applicable to the Cove. 

Several of the powerboats that had stayed out through the worst of the mid-morning wind and slop were now trolling for salmon right outside our position a few hundred yards.  Nothing was happening for anyone on the salmon front, so I tried to dial us in to some rockfish and hopefully a lingcod or two.  Eventually we found some blacks, but the south breeze was still blowing and on top of a south current, so much of our time was spent fighting the current to stay on the school.

I was asking a lot of my guy.  Day 1 we'd started right out in the nasty slop off the point, in thick fog, with Great White sightings and a kayak rescue nearby, and now we'd had to re-launch after waiting out bad winds on what was supposed to be a nice forecast.  Through it all, Scott was upbeat and eager - always attentive to what I was showing or asking of him.  Now I found myself in a little bit of a Drill Sargent Mode - somewhat curtly telling my guest that we needed to step up the pace or we'd be going backward in the current.  Scott did what I asked, and as the conditions got better I could see that he was excelling in the challenge of the moment.

With a little pile of rockfish strung up and the conditions almost approaching "flat", I told my man that I thought we should head outside toward the Whistle Buoy.  The Red Can, as it's known by some, is about a mile and a half from launch, and lots of magic has happened out there over my years of fishing the Cove.  Scott was all about it. 

We trolled our way out, pointing our bows to the left of the buoy so as to counteract the strong current pushing us to its right, and about an hour later we were there.  By this time it was nice out, but we were still up against that current.  I was hoping to find a first lingcod for the two day trip, but it wasn't to be - the slow ling bite of 2022 continues.  Another hope was that a vermillion would show up, but alas, it was just black rockfish for us, and we are fortunate to have such problems.

After hours of battling the current and enjoying many fish played and a fair amount put away for filleting, we started trolling our way back to the harbor mid-afternoon.  The fog that had been up all day was now descending on the Cove again, and we got off the water just as it was enveloping the view.  Stretching our legs after getting up off the kayaks at launch, we were both pretty beat, but for any weariness we felt, the joy of having executed a successful day in the face of nature's challenges had us both holding onto well-earned grins.

After two days of tough fishing, a night on a buddy's couch, unpredictable forecasts and all the rest, putting the gear away in preparation for our final act felt really rewarding.  We'd fillet the fish, enjoy a cold beer, and wrap up the mission.  I could tell Scott was tired - so was I.  We'd paddled hard for a lot of hours, especially on day 2.

With Scott's cooler filled up with about 20 pounds of halibut and cod, we were coasting in to the finish line.  Scott expressed what a good time he'd had, and I apologized for how the conditions turned out and the fact that the salmon and lingcod weren't biting well.  He dismissed my sorries and assured me that he'd fulfilled his goals for the trip and then some.  "I caught so many fish!", he exclaimed, and my own perspective was, once again, wrenched back down to Earth by one of my guests who just had a really good time on our trip together.

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Great write-up and read, as usual, Eric!

Brie and I were out there the day of the rescue too. We fished until about noon for a few bites on the inside (due to fighting the elements and slop outside the day before), but nothing worth writing home about. I pulled the truck down and parked right next to you to load up--was hoping we'd see you land and say hi! A woman fishing off the jetty called over to us and asked if "that guy" needs help. Sure enough, we see the gentleman with the flare, and then heard the whistles. Since we were loading the truck at this point, I turned my radio back to call it in, but heard someone else immediately do so and the Landing fielded the distress call to rescue. The guy ended up laying down on the rock after his flare went out, and it was a bit unnerving not knowing what was going on.

Brie wanted to go back out and try to help. Her dad is a North Shore lifeguard on Oahu, her mom is a nurse, and she herself is a PA--helping others is in her blood, but I talked her down, considering how dangerous (in part because of the learnings from our trip with you last year) that part of the cove can be. We were then blocked in by the rescue vehicles and saw the entire thing unfold. Intense for sure, and grateful the man lived, and always a sobering reality check into some of the risks of our sport. I'm all for learning from others' mistakes, and taking the "silver lining" approach. Hopefully seeing situations like that one can make us all smarter OTW.

We heard about the landlord on the radio too... a bit unnerving, but we stayed out also. There was a small, crazy part of me that wanted to see it. I'm sure my time will come...

Hope to be up there again at least once more before salmon season ends. Hopefully we'll see you then! Cheers.

Great write-up and read, as usual, Eric!

Brie and I were out there the day of the rescue too. We fished until about noon for a few bites on the inside (due to fighting the elements and slop outside the day before), but nothing worth writing home about. I pulled the truck down and parked right next to you to load up--was hoping we'd see you land and say hi! A woman fishing off the jetty called over to us and asked if "that guy" needs help. Sure enough, we see the gentleman with the flare, and then heard the whistles. Since we were loading the truck at this point, I turned my radio back to call it in, but heard someone else immediately do so and the Landing fielded the distress call to rescue. The guy ended up laying down on the rock after his flare went out, and it was a bit unnerving not knowing what was going on.

Brie wanted to go back out and try to help. Her dad is a North Shore lifeguard on Oahu, her mom is a nurse, and she herself is a PA--helping others is in her blood, but I talked her down, considering how dangerous (in part because of the learnings from our trip with you last year) that part of the cove can be. We were then blocked in by the rescue vehicles and saw the entire thing unfold. Intense for sure, and grateful the man lived, and always a sobering reality check into some of the risks of our sport. I'm all for learning from others' mistakes, and taking the "silver lining" approach. Hopefully seeing situations like that one can make us all smarter OTW.

We heard about the landlord on the radio too... a bit unnerving, but we stayed out also. There was a small, crazy part of me that wanted to see it. I'm sure my time will come...

Hope to be up there again at least once more before salmon season ends. Hopefully we'll see you then! Cheers.

Thanks for filling in some of the details of that rescue, Julian.  It was chilling to hear on the VHF that the guy passed out and they had to wake him up by calling to him from the boat before the rescue jet ski got there. 

I was hoping to see you and Brie, but we must've missed you by an hour or so.  Please get in touch if you're coming up again and maybe we can get a beer at the Tailgate Fillet Station.   

Great write-up and read, as usual, Eric!

Brie and I were out there the day of the rescue too. We fished until about noon for a few bites on the inside (due to fighting the elements and slop outside the day before), but nothing worth writing home about. I pulled the truck down and parked right next to you to load up--was hoping we'd see you land and say hi! A woman fishing off the jetty called over to us and asked if "that guy" needs help. Sure enough, we see the gentleman with the flare, and then heard the whistles. Since we were loading the truck at this point, I turned my radio back to call it in, but heard someone else immediately do so and the Landing fielded the distress call to rescue. The guy ended up laying down on the rock after his flare went out, and it was a bit unnerving not knowing what was going on.

Brie wanted to go back out and try to help. Her dad is a North Shore lifeguard on Oahu, her mom is a nurse, and she herself is a PA--helping others is in her blood, but I talked her down, considering how dangerous (in part because of the learnings from our trip with you last year) that part of the cove can be. We were then blocked in by the rescue vehicles and saw the entire thing unfold. Intense for sure, and grateful the man lived, and always a sobering reality check into some of the risks of our sport. I'm all for learning from others' mistakes, and taking the "silver lining" approach. Hopefully seeing situations like that one can make us all smarter OTW.

We heard about the landlord on the radio too... a bit unnerving, but we stayed out also. There was a small, crazy part of me that wanted to see it. I'm sure my time will come...

Hope to be up there again at least once more before salmon season ends. Hopefully we'll see you then! Cheers.

Thanks for filling in some of the details of that rescue, Julian.  It was chilling to hear on the VHF that the guy passed out and they had to wake him up by calling to him from the boat before the rescue jet ski got there. 

I was hoping to see you and Brie, but we must've missed you by an hour or so.  Please get in touch if you're coming up again and maybe we can get a beer at the Tailgate Fillet Station.   

Would love that! We'll let you know 

To my own chagrin, I rubber-necked a few photos...

1 & 2. Amphibious rescue vessel being launched shortly after the fire rescue jet-ski hit the water.

3. Rescue ski had just dropped off a rescuer who was approaching the victim, laying prone, on the rock. Bird caught in frame by accident.

Hero status for those responders.  Nice job on the photos.

Hero status for those responders.  Nice job on the photos.

Amen to that. Was about a 15 minute response time. Impressive, all factors considered.