Shelter Cove - 6/9 and 6/10/20

Hands hurt. Heart happy.

Tuesday and Wednesday at the Cove with local guests went great. On the 9th I was to meet Carl by 6AM at the launch. My covid sleep record hasn't been great - I think it's a common occurrence for many of us at this point to be waking up more often and not achieving as many hours as targeted, but most of us can just chalk that up to more first-world problems, eh? I didn't get to bed until after 11PM, and when I woke just before 2AM I was like, "oh shit." When I couldn't get back to sleep by 330 and the alarm was set for 355, I knew it was time to just go. Got down to the Cove just after 5AM and situated my gear on the ramp - alone as usual, and loving that atmosphere of anticipation and appreciation as clear skies became illuminated and a calm ocean gently lapped along the ramp just below my boats. I had my guest set up with one of my super-stable yaks wired up with sonar and armed with an Uglystik Black Tiger that my dad gave me 15 years ago as a birthday gift - a Penn Special Senator and big-ass salmon net rounded out the outfitting.

Carl arrived just as boats were starting to launch, and we took our time getting breakfasted and donning the obligatory immersion gear with safety items all charged up and at the ready. We were set for the day's mission: getting Carl on his first offshore kayak fishing adventure!

We launched onto nice water and started to make our way south toward the buoys as I got Carl acquainted with the system of angling that I show people on my trips. We reviewed the rules for different setups and talked about our targets and the different scenarios that commonly unfold on the troll. It's a training mission out there, with salmon at the top of the pyramid of desire, and all of the other Nor Cal nearshore species potentially ending up on our stringers. Carl has plenty of fishing experience as well as kayaking, so he took to combining the skills easily. A slight breeze started early, but soon things had glassed off nicely, and the balance of the morning hours were classic Cove: pure joy.

The lesson for me on this trip had to do with targeting. I know what I want to target - salmon. My other obvious targets are safety, proficiency, teaching and enjoyment for my guests, but I can sometimes lose a bit of focus on a different aspect of targeting that my guests will bring and that will help me change gears a bit. See, Carl isn't a hard-core kayak fisherman like I'm used to - don't get me wrong; he was all about bagging a salmon, and getting his biggest lingcod (31" and around 14 pounds) was a great thrill and one of the highlights of our day. Carl was there to enjoy the ride - no matter what we caught. We shared lots of family talk and touched on a little politics, covid issues...etc., and I ended up turning the VHF off because our conversation and sharing was clearly more important than knowing if the other boats were getting bit. I needed that, and being ready to accommodate the type of atmosphere and interplay that my guest brings to the trip is a priority that I try to always stick to. I am not just taking people fishing - I'm making good friends out there and solidifying existing relationships.

Near the end of our session as we were heading in toward the lighthouse point and getting ready to round the corner toward the breakwater, we were content with a decent stringer of rockfish and two larger than average lingcod. The wind had come up a bit at noon, and the time was right to go have lunch at the beach, to be followed by a cold brew and fillet time on my tailgate. Then Carl hooked up a salmon! We got the modestly sized king in the net and enjoyed the moment, celebrating with air-fives from a proper social distance and toothy grins that I've come to know as some of the most authentic feelings in life. What a capper to our day!

With the still thrashing king hanging in my own big-ass net boatside, I quickly got Carl on a new bait and sent him trolling in the direction of his successful hookup. I bled the fish and got it on the stringer, and then Carl hollers from 50 yards away, "Fish on!" I boogied in his direction, but a bigger model salmon had broken him off. My first guide reaction was to consider whether the leader had been weakened or if his drag may have been too tight, but Carl's smile and his announcement that fighting an even bigger Chinook for a bit was a great thrill had me grounded again - it's about the experience, and it's OK to dial down the intensity to feel more of the joy.

With 2.5 hours of sleep under my belt, the late afternoon successful-trip-high was fading fast. A dip in the river at Gould Bar helped to revitalize, and I was off to pick up the family's favorite takeout in Fortuna (Las Cazuelas - do it!). Got the food home, checked the forecast, took account of how burnt I felt, and drove up to Colton's place - he and Raleigh were my guests for the 10th, and I'd already put off the trip since late May because of a Spring wind pattern that's been stretching out along with our late and capricious seasonal rains (very thankful for those, btw).

Colton and Raleigh are sheriff's deputies - both 25 years old. Super nice guys who scored basic fishing platforms from Costco - it's the Emotion Stealth Pro from Costco. I've followed the models that Costco has offered over the years - still have 3 Mainstream boats that I bought there in the early 2000's. The Stealth Pro is the best fishing platform that Costco has offered.

Anyway, I got up to Colton's and he had the boats all loaded up and his gear out so we could go over it and make sure we were ready for an offshore trip. The forecast had been bumped up to 10 to 15 knot winds, and that's not a big deal at the Cove when they're from the north/NW, but Magic Seaweed - usually very conservative and like a beach-goer's forecast - had 20 knots of west wind hitting the Cove by late morning! I use a variety of forecasting tools along with many years of experience, and I've never seen Seaweed blow it up like that - it wasn't that bad on any of my other sites. I told Colton about the increased wind forecast and that we might get blown off at or maybe before midday, but he and Raleigh were ready. The guys had been looking forward to the trip, and of course so had I, but that two and a half hours sleep felt like a bag full of rocks on my back. I had to be ready - this is what I do. This is who I am. Besides, running on not enough sleep is, after all, another first-world problem.

I firmed up plans with Colton and asked him to be there a bit earlier than we'd previously talked about. It's getting light so early, and if the wind was to come up we'd need all the time we could get after the light allowed us on the water. I jammed home, got bait back in the freezer from my mini-deep-freeze (another trade secret revealed!), slammed down Las Caz tacos, a burrito and beans and rice, and set to rearranging my gear for the next day's adventure. With everything set in the truck and the garden getting a crucial watering which provided a therapeutic 10 minutes of Zen on its own, I had a quick hot tub and it was off to bed just after 8 - I might get 7 hours sleep. Didn't get to sleep until after 9, so it would be 6, maybe... "You can do this. You want this." I talked myself to sleep and got five and a half good hours.

Up right before the alarm, I was ready. I had one mission - get these guys on the best day of their lives! I try to aim high.
I got to the ramp at 525, and I'm now 8 for 8 on being there before anyone this season. The fishing advantage of starting early should be obvious to anyone who participates in these pursuits, but the peace and the confidence-building of feeling ready and being fully engaged are priceless intangibles that I will always cherish.

Colton and Raleigh were punctual, and I'd had enough time to have my gear all ready and was eating my bowl of Cheerios when they pulled up at our agreed time of 545. I started feeding the guys with information as they laid out their yaks and donned their wetsuits. There was no ambiguity about the fact that these two young men were here to learn the ways of the sport, and I was back in hard-core instruction mode. With the worrying about how much sleep I'd get behind me, I was so ready to give these guys my best. I felt like a million bucks.

I'd come down the hill into thick fog from about 500' all the way to the ground, and when the guys pulled up, end of breakwater barely visible in a shroud of fog, I'd called out to them over my bowl of Cheerios as they rounded the corner at the bottom of the ramp, "days like this are good days to have a guide!" Their smiles in response had ready, willing and eager all over them, and I knew that we would have a blast out there - thick fog or not.

Soon we were on the water along with the first powerboats. I got the guys set up, and we were trolling onto the reef with success in our sights. The fog lifted enough to see some landmarks and to easily make our way toward the Whistle, but the current was ripping downhill to the southeast, and an early breeze pushing us that way too had me a bit concerned. My guests were doing great though - nice stable boats, and it felt really good to have young guys who I knew I could ask a lot of if it came to paddling against the conditions all day. (no offense to all you old geezers who I've taken out over the years!)

We get almost to the buoy and we've not had a bite. The tide was to bottom out to a significant minus at 942AM, but I don't base my fishing on the tides at the Cove. It's still a common belief that high and incoming are better though... The guys don't have fishfinders (sonar) on their boats, so I was feeding depths and asking them to stay close to me so someone wouldn't snag a pinnacle. They did everything I asked of them, and I knew it wouldn't be long before a fish found our bait. Boom! I had a salmon on. I usually stick to a policy of "we caught" - it's about our effort, and it's their day - it belongs to my guests. Here though, I'm with men who are young enough to be my sons (I'm old!), and they were so focused on what I was doing - I could feel it like hot sun. It felt good, and getting a stout king in the net is about the best thing that can happen when I'm trying to instill confidence in people who I'm aiming to not just teach but to befriend and, possibly, to dazzle with one of funnest experiences they've had.

I talked about what I was doing as I fought this beautiful fish, and I advised that they can get away so easily. Every fish is different, and this one didn't take the long runs that most big kings do. Soon it was in my net, and I asked the guys to keep trolling around me while I bled and stowed it. I just about had the catch on my clip when I hear, "I've got one on." Colton was fighting his first fish of the day, and then Raleigh was too. My relief at finding this early success was solid. We'd hoped it was more salmon, but the guys had gotten on a school of blacks - no complaints, as we were stoked to be hooking fish.

Over the next hour or more I hardly fished. The guys kept hooking one fish after another - doubling several times. They both scored quality lings, plenty of blacks, and we picked up a few species that don't often eat bait - a vermillion and a gopher went on the clip, and a canary had a photo session and got to keep swimming. While we enjoyed our hot bite the fog lifted, and we had a glorious view of the King Range to the north and Shelter Cove a mile away.

Our catching frenzy eventually tapered off, and we ventured on to look for a flatfish and to get the guys proficient in different situations. We picked up more fish and hoped for another salmon to bite, but by just after noon we were all ready to head for the ramp. The sun was blazing, wind hadn't kicked in as forecast yet, and filleting pretty fat stringers of fish on my tailgate sounded about like the best thing ever. My guests went to grab some food at the deli as I sprayed the scales off of the salmon before heading back down into the cove to take my traditional swim at the end of the breakwater and set up for a cold beer and a solid hour of filleting the catch.

The guys soon joined me, and my working day wrapped up like it has so many times since I took on this wild and so rewarding part-time vocation. Sheer joy. With fat sacks of fish loaded in their cooler, my new friends and I parted ways, and I thanked them for the work that they do. Hanging with men half my age who work in a field that deals with life and death issues daily was a gift in its own right. Much respect to their demeanor, their service and to their obvious commitment to doing what's right with the weight of the responsibility placed on them.

After a quick visit with the Inn Keeper I was on the road for home. I knew how torched I was, but the success of the two days of trips and the anticipation of being able to go to bed that evening and stay there until I had enough rest was a wonderful freedom. I drove over the hill with a smile of contentment even though my hands were riddled with lingcod tooth wounds, line cuts and a slight stiffness that surely indicated overuse in the short-term.

There's a big fir tree right up near the Paradise Ridge turnoff. Every trip, in the dark on my way to the Cove, I say "Good Morning, Big Fir", and then I say good morning to my Gampa and my dad and my brother. They're gone now, but they are the ones who brought me to the Cove. They showed me how to abalone dive and how to catch a salmon. They showed me how rewarding these pursuits can be, and I've come to know how deep my feelings can run out there, offshore, where you never know what you'll find on the troll. I don't know if they ever knew it or even thought about it this way, but these men in my family - my loved ones who are now deceased but forever with me - they taught me how to feel.

Remember about me: I like to feel. Turns out that I really like to help others feel too.

Much Love, and thank you.   

Thank you, NCKA.   

watching your videos of kayak fishing and reports on NCKA as I've been wanting to kayak fish for a while inspired me to get one. Ive been fishing on it since last couple years and I'm spoiled with the time to fish and to be right by the cali coast here in SF. Thank you for your hard work and inspiration as a kayak angler/guide!!! hope to fish with you one of these days!!

Thanks for this. Great read!

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Ahhh, Cove Chronicles. Reading your account of the two days was a very nice way to start my day.

Thank you, from one of the old geezers! 

Hi Eric, wonderful report as usual. My son will be out of the military next year and we will be going out with you then.

" My guests were doing great though - nice stable boats, and it felt really good to have young guys who I knew I could ask a lot of if it came to paddling against the conditions all day. (no offense to all you old geezers who I've taken out over the years!)"

Don't forget that last year at G.S. you had 8 signed up for your clinics. All the young-ins bailed due to the conditions, and you were left with the 2 geezers.... me, and Old Fart. We had a great time, and can't wait to do it again. A little less bumpy would be nice though.

Thanks for another beautiful report and pictures Eric.  I can feel your passion and sportsmanship  about kayak fishing and passing your knowledge to others.  Keep up the good work my friend.

Your enthusiasm is infectious. Great report—I read every word.

Thanks you guys.  About 10 years ago or more I put up a Bear Harbor report after a family campout where I basically worked myself to exhaustion guiding my uncles and cousins around the abalone reefs and kayak fishing the rest of the time.  At the end of that trip I was so spent I could just cry at the drop of a hat - don't knock it 'til you try it!

That's about where I was after this latest two day run, and it felt really good.

I'm only taking Humboldt or Mendo locals out right now, but if you want to book a date please do - we can figure out if it's a green light in terms of covid social issues once the time comes.  July and August are typically the hottest salmon and other fisheries times at the Cove.

Looking forward to getting together with the NCKA fam when we can - guiding or not.

 

I welled up reading that last paragraph, thinking of my dad who taught me how to fish, and of my two young boys that I would love to continue fishing with for as long as we can. 

Thanks for always putting the time in to put together such a fantastic experience for your guests and for your readers too. Hope to make a trip north when the time is right.

Great post Eric. I just finished up my first trip to shelter cove today and had a great day on the water chasing rockfish. Trip was partly trying to avoid the wind and partly inspired by some of your recent reports/posts. Thanks for being an embassador to the kayak angling lifestyle and sharing the joy with others.

Thanks for another wonderful, visual, essay, Eric.

 Eric...Just like a magazine of old...  I just read it for the articles  (how many remember that quote??) Thanks for sharing the fish porn/adventure, brings a smile to my face.    Hopefully see OTW again one of these days.

Wonderful writing man. Cheers