Shelter Cove - 7/3/22

Second Father-Son offshore trip in a row yesterday - hell yeah!

Keith contacted me a couple months back looking to book a day at the Cove for he and his son Ben.  It would be Ben's 30th b-day present.  We'd originally set up our day for Friday, July 1st, hoping to avoid the crowds that always descend on the Cove for the Fourth.  Wouldn't you know it though, the forecast didn't look great for Friday, so we switched things up to Sunday with its much nicer looking predicted wind and swells.

Enjoyed some family time Friday with my house full of college kid and recent graduates, and Saturday I had the place to myself as my crew headed to the cabin in Phillipsville for the night.  I got some chores done, prepped my gear, ate a good dinner and tried to get to bed as early as I could.  Getting up at 3AM with a very full day ahead of you is no joke, but the ability to get to sleep while it's still light out is no easy task either.  Ended up waking just after 2 o'clock, and I knew I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep before the alarm went off.  Lying there in comfort after only a bit more than 4 hours sleep, I tried to meditate on my plans and hopes for the day.

Soon I was up and executing my ritual activities for all trips:  ice in the coolers, food and bait loaded, move the car, lock the gate, go.  It's an hour and a half from Loleta to the Cove - about half of it on the 101 and the other half over the winding rural road that leads from Redway to the best kayak fishing port on the west coast.  I know all of it by heart.  I love all of it.  The driving presents another opportunity for meditation.  I'm not phased out at all - just rehearsing and visualizing; building my focus for how I want the day to go.

In fishing, you are engaged in an exercise that has so much to do with control.  Everything from the time you arrive at the launch, the quality of your bait, the readiness of your tackle and gear, your own fitness and your chosen locations and targets, to your demeanor and your chosen fishing partners are largely under your control.  The big things that aren't under your direct influence are the weather and the bite - with those, you must take what you can get.

I arrived at the ramp at 430AM, and my guests weren't due for another hour.  They'd bring their own kayaks and gear, so I was looking at an easy routine where I'd only have to assemble my own boat and seat and all the tackle, rods, bait and other tools for the day.  This hour in the dark with the ramp to myself is a familiar time and yet another opportunity for meditation.  Now it's about feeling a calm readiness in my preparations.  The kayak is unstrapped from the rack and laid in the sand first.  Then the seat, a half gallon of water, my net, my stringers, burlap, tackle, bait and tools - all set in the places where they go on every trip.  The electronics even got fired up before dawn, and I can't ever remember it being so dark out while I ate my bowl of cereal - Wheat Chex with about 100 wild blackberries has proven to be amazing fuel, BTW. 

In those moments of preparation my meditation is about the routine and how being ready and controlling every detail that I can will ensure that I am poised to achieve not just the best outcomes for my own day but also that of my guests - especially that of my guests.  As the light came and my gear lay ready on the launch ramp, I had nothing standing in my way but those things that I do not and cannot control.  Long ago I learned how working in the dark to prepare for going on the ocean can be intimidating and how that pressure and apprehension is alleviated as the landscape and the sea are illuminated by the dawn.  Later I found that ritualizing my gear assembly and being ready early were ways that I could accentuate that confidence that builds with the light of day. 

I don't show my tackle in these reports, and I don't discuss specific methods - even though I love sharing true details and genuine emotion, some things are proprietary to my way.  If you ever wanted to hear a guide secret, that last paragraph contains about the most valuable nugget I can offer, and I thank you for helping me create a space here where it feels so good to share it.

Keith and Ben arrived right on time.  We met, got my guide paperwork quickly completed, and they were set to work putting together their own kits for the day.  It didn't take them long, and we were launched along with the first boats.  The few miles of visibility that had been present on the water when I'd arrived was now obscured by a thick fog bank, but the ocean was calm and there was no wind at all.  I got my guys hooked up with our first trolling rigs, and we started making our way to the SSE toward the Bell.  With powerboaters whizzing past us in the fog like they were in a race to exercise their own control over how their days would go, my guys and I plotted along and went through another one of my rituals where I get to know my guests while at the same time assessing their comfort level on the open water and their abilities as well as their gear.  Thick fog can be a good thing - it makes people feel more like having a guide is a good idea, and it helps the guide to assess the true comfortability of the guests.  My guys were solid, and we were all lined up to achieve the success that we were after.

It wasn't long before Keith was on a fish.  I quickly cleared my line and got up to him as he brought a respectable lingcod up.  My net was out fast, and the fish was soon bled and stowed.  We were on the board.

We turned the corner at the point and found Domenic and Max trolling on their chosen tacks.  They were aiming at the same target as most everyone:  salmon, and while my guests had stated their desire to focus on rockfish and lingcod, they were in agreement that we should give the chrome pursuit some time to start the day.  Soon Max passed by us and announced he'd gotten one right off the bat.  Domenic too confirmed some good strikes, so our hopes were high to hook up as well.

Over the next hour or more we had dozens of hookups with mostly rockfish, and the stringer building got going strong - so did the bait depletion!  I'd told the guys that I had about 10 pounds of bait with me, and they'd laughed.  Now we were laughing about how it was looking like we'd need all of that due to the voracious bite going off.  I kept pinning nice choves and herring on my guys' hooks, and I couldn't even fish for a while because I was sprinting back and forth between Ben and Keith, bleeding fish and re-baiting hooks like a hyperactive waiter handing out beers at a crowded Happy Hour.

Eventually the bite cooled a bit, and I got a chove out behind me.  Boom!  I was on a pumper.  I got my crew's attention and pointed out the action on the rod.  This was a hot fish that wouldn't stop shaking its head.  At one point it swam right at me, setting up a familiar scene where I reel as fast as I can to take the slack out of the line.  The fish stopped about 25 feet from my yak, turned sideways, shook its whole body back and forth giving me hot flashes of chrome from a few feet below the surface, and it was gone.  That's how fast they can spit the hooks. 

The excitement was over, but hopes were high that someone in my trio would hookup again soon.  Here's where some control comes into the picture though.  My guests were going to be stoked to take home a salmon, but they'd already expressed their desire to target and retain the more sure thing catches in the bottom fish.  When it became apparent that getting a salmon would be contingent on trolling with a specific focus for likely the rest of the session, I diverted us out toward the red can where there should be a consistent bite and a variety of quality rockfish were more likely to find their way on to our stringers.  The control was about my own desire - the salmon obsession is no joke.

As we approached the Whistle Buoy in the fog using only my compass, we got stuck on a school of canary rockfish that had our bite going pretty much WFO for half an hour or so.  It was a blast, but the fish were short-biting, and my bait inventory was dwindling more than it should for a guide who's taken to carrying two coolers full of fin fish.  It was time to use strategies to preserve our bait while still keeping our day productive and our potentials maximized in terms of a salmon showing up.

Mid morning a buddy from Shasta area came on the radio and announced a Pacific halibut in pretty shallow water - an amazing catch considering that his son and he just boated one within the past two weeks!  Domenic and Max were also hooking up on more salmon inside of our position, but they're local experts and were working for them.  My group was right where we needed to be.  My new strategy had us still catching while making progress to the spot where I'd meter out the last of the herring in hopes of finding more lingcod.

With our rockfish stringers built up almost to limit-capacity, we were down to my last few herring.  I'd saved some anchovies for the last part of our session, but this would be our last best chance to find the big toothy predator that we were looking for.  I was near Ben when Keith got my attention from about 150 feet away.  I saw his rod bent, and there was no play in it that would indicate a rockfish.  It also didn't show much of a fight - it looked like Keith was reeling up a bag of potatoes.  A big bag.  This is how a hitch-hiker acts.

I paddled hard, but Keith got the sack of taters up to the top before I could get in position to wield my net.  I watched from 40 to 50 feet away as the father on this Father-Son trip bagged a grand-daddy blue ling that was latched onto a fat vermillion that probably went six pounds itself.  I always prefer to net the fish on my trips, but this was a great moment. 

I got up on Keith as he was subduing the ling with his legs since his net wasn't quite big enough for this fish - especially as it was holding onto the stout vermillion.  We worked together to get the big hitch-hiker secured, bled it and the verm and got them stowed away.  Before this big fish had come we'd already caught enough fish over enough hours for the day to be a success, and the lingcod topped our day off.

We made our way in over the next hour, and even though I'd saved some of the best choves for the end, we didn't end up needing them.  A few fish came as we passed the point on the way back to the launch, but the lingcod smiles were firmly set.  We were ready to exit the ocean, put away our gear and complete the final portion of the trip where we celebrate our day with cold beer at the Tailgate Fillet Station.

Backed my truck down to my yak, got most of my stuff put back in the places where it goes on every trip, and then I SUP'd out into the harbor on the big guide yak, washed the blood and brine off my deck and took a quick dip that does an amazing job of rejuvenating me for the fillet session.  My guests got their gear stowed and joined me at the tailgate, and we proceeded to cut and bag about 25 pounds of the freshest and most gratifying ling and rockfish for their cooler. 

That time with my guests at the end of the day at my tailgate - backed up to the ocean and viewing the entire Cove full of happy beach goers playing in front of us like some kind of Sports and Nature TV show - it is precious.  It is a time that reflects how, by using what skill I have to control whatever variables that I can, my guests and I were able to achieve success that is unique to every trip while also being part of those meditations that I employ in the dark back at home, along the road and alone at the ramp while the light is coming.

With firm and authentic handshakes and direct eye-to-eye expression, my guests and I finished our day and parted ways.  They thanked me for the trip, loaded me up with a bonus that I work very hard for, and they were rolling up the hill and out of the Cove.  This is another precious time when I'm able to exhale after being up since 2AM, driving, prepping and assembling, meeting, showing, catching, bleeding, stowing and celebrating, photographing, cutting, bagging and completing the mission.

In all of this - and in all of my attempts to analyze and understand it - I know that I lack control over something that I should actually have a hold over.  It's my salmon obsession.  I'm OK with that though, because I know that my desire is so strong in that area that it fuels everything else in my life.  It's OK to have that kind of force that may be out of your total control.  That's the paradox that can lead to a philosophy, and I'm running with it.

Keep your eyes on the prize, folks, and don't forget to really feel it.

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Just saw this this morning Eric. Thanks for posting the pics up. We both had a great day. Went and bought a bigger net two days later. Keith

Just saw this this morning Eric. Thanks for posting the pics up. We both had a great day. Went and bought a bigger net two days later. Keith

Right on, Keith.  Hope to fish with you and Ben again.