Uncharted Waters - 8/3/15

I'm posting in public for the first time in a long while because I want any of you lurkers to know what kind of reports we have in the members only section.  Please enjoy.   

                         ------------------------------------------------------------

It's been a long time since I've gone fishing with anything other than the obsessions of salmon on my mind. After a relaxing vacation in Tahoe with my family where I didn't fish at all for the first time in many years, I saw that the ocean had mellowed to nearly the flattest conditions of the season. Combined with a decent mid-morning minus tide, the lake-like ocean was calling me toward the Lost Coast. I started abalone diving and fishing from the rocks out there in the early 90's, and certain spots around Punta Gorda have provided some fantastic adventures for me and friends over the years.

Facebook ended up factoring in to my plans for Monday the 3rd. I was prepared to just do a chill solo trip where I'd dive shallow looking for a big ab and drop some bait inshore and possibly put the yak in the tidepools to soak ab guts for a big cabezone. When I got back from Tahoe I saw a message from a guy that I've "gotten to know" online over the past several months - Tyler Grunert. With a common friend in Vincent Dimarzo, Tyler and I have been liking each other's posts for a while now. I could tell he's a great diver, but, honestly, I didn't know much else about him. Being a guide and someone who has been going on solo missions for over 25 years, I'm not quick to invite others along - especially when I'm headed for spots that I know to be difficult to access and maybe even tougher to find success in.

In his message to me Tyler stated that he was headed for Gorda to camp and dive for the weekend - this was one of the coolest invites I've ever received because it was from a guy I've never been around at a spot where people covet their 'honey holes'. I sent back a thanks for the invitation and told him I'm wrapped up for the weekend and might be down there Monday. I was impressed with his friendliness and felt good to get the nod as someone worthy of having along on his wilderness diving trip. When Tyler sent back an enthusiastic "I can go Monday!" I was a little surprised - I thought he'd be done and headed back to work Monday or whatever. We exchanged messages and figured to meet at 630 at the trailhead. I'd indicated that I'd be rolling a yak down the beach for the trip - he asked if he needed one too, and I told him he didn't. It occurred to me that I could bring one for him along with a set of sand wheels, but I didn't want to get too involved with outfitting someone I'd never met, and this wasn't even a guided trip!! It felt really good to just be making a new friend.

Monday morning comes, and as has happened all summer, I woke up well before my alarm and ended up getting up and on the road earlier than planned - ocean adventures have been good for my desired transition to being more of a morning person! I was still thinking of how it would be fun to bring a kayak for Tyler, but I needed to just follow my plan at that point. I got on the road and the fog was thick through the valley and up over the Wildcat on the way to Petrolia.  I know that road like the back of my paddle, but I was challenged a few different times by fog so thick that I couldn't see the end of a curve - it was sketchy, and I found myself hoping that Tyler was being careful too on our way to our designated meeting place just downstream from Mill Creek.  I pulled in to the parking lot at 622 and was shocked at how many rigs were there - the campground at the mouth of the Mattole used to be a free spot, but I've never seen so many cars and trucks there in my life!  I got my gear unloaded and configured on the Scrambler on Wheeleez, had my bowl of cereal, and I was ready to roll at 645 - no Tyler though...  I was a little worried about this guy because of the nasty fog along what's already a rough road.  I could tell from his messages that he'd been stoked about the trip, and I also knew from what I'd seen on FB that he was a solid guy.  I didn't think he'd flake on me.  It was time to roll though, so I'd have to find out later what went down with his morning.

As I got moving down a stretch of beach that I've known well for so long it brought back memories of past trips.  Adventures with friends back in the 90's at this spot had been off the hook - huge abs, rough and muddy water, monster cabs hooked and landed from tidepools...  This place was a big part of what got me hooked on seeking out more than just your everyday fishing and diving trip.  I'd cut my teeth here on how to access special spots, push my body and challenge my psyche along a remote and wild coastline where 99% of the time you'd look and say "no thanks" to entering the water.  Ducking waves, dealing with zero viz and the potential to get skunked are what this place is all about.  This day was special though - it was a lake, and the water clarity was exceptional for here at two to three feet!  I was giddy.  Even with all the people at the trailhead though, I was alone - they were campers and backpackers, and no one was along the beach with me just before 7AM as I trudged along the water's edge with about 75 pounds of gear on my back and strapped to my rolling yak.  I had my dive gear including weight belt and float with anchor, a rock rod, an offshore rod, a net, a gaff, a tackle box with all of my rock gear, another box with a fair amount of deep water gear, a half gallon of water, two cameras, a VHF radio, PFD, kayak, seat, paddle, Hawg Trough, framepack and enough stoke-energy to use it all!

I'd left my hoody, a heavy Carhart vest and a pair of Goretex pants in the truck - it was balmy out.  Shorts and a t-shirt were plenty of cover on this windless morning, and getting a strong sweat going just after breakfast is a great way to start any day.  I arrived at my spot and had noted that there was a pleasureboat just offshore maybe half a mile - it was a tri-hull boat, and I thought it may be Captain Trent Slate on the Bite Me out of Shelter Cove.  Now my plan was changing in my mind.  That's part of my M.O. - be ready to adjust the itinerary based on factors which can either enhance or hinder what had been scheduled - this is one way to maximize an opportunity, and I see it as crucial to much of the success that I've enjoyed over the years in my outdoors pursuits.  I saw that the powerboat was drift fishing, as they slowly moved north to south and then motored back up the hill for another drift.  Punta Gorda is also known as Windy Point - it's not often that boats out of either the Cove or Eureka can fish here effectively, and this day was very close to the absolute ideal.

As I donned my wetsuit I made my decision - I wouldn't be diving until after a trip offshore to try my luck with the fish.  I stowed my dive gear, pack, wheels, clothes with wallet and keys in the rocks hoping no one would come along and mess with it all, then I hopped on my yak and headed to the west and deeper water.  In a place where I've only ever launched into the tidepools other than one brief and fruitless offshore trip nine years earlier where my nephew and I were unprepared for it, I was absolutely ecstatic to be paddling out to fish offshore in this most remote spot and on such a fine ocean.  After clearing the mudline at a few hundred yards offshore I put a chovie down in beautiful clear water, and it wasn't long before I'd caught and released a couple of black rockfish.  I made my way to the boat I'd been watching and as I got near enough where they could see me with radio in hand I asked over the VHF if they had a water temp reading - salmon was still on my mind after all!  They looked at me and could see that it was indeed the kayaker who'd hailed them with this request, and they came back with "55 degrees" and a smile from their deck 100 yards away.  I thanked them and stated, "I'm gonna keep trolling then!"  It wasn't the Bite Me after all, but they'd come from the Cove.  I made my way out to some birds that I could see not too far away as I got a herring thawed out and ready for the mooching rig.  As I got to the birds I realized that now I was way too far out to be able to see my gear back in the rocks on shore - I'd thought as I left the beach, "I'll be able to keep an eye on this stuff from out there..."  That factor was probably what kept me from trolling on for an hour or more hoping for a Lost Coast King.  I soon turned back toward shore which was now a mile away - this water was so smooth and easy that covering a mile felt like nothing.  I could see the Cape to the northwest, south of me was the lighthouse, then grassy hills around Cooskie and Randall creeks stretching down to Spanish Flat, and I thought I could even see the Cove on the horizon, but I realized it was likely Big Flat, which would've obscured the view of Shelter Cove around the corner and 10 more miles down the coast.  This spot was glorious, and whether I caught any fish or not I was feeling like I'd achieved an awesome outing already, and it was only 8AM.

I headed back inshore to the pleasureboat - I would not have solo'd way offshore in the wilderness just for rockfish and lingcod and a salmon chance if that boat had not been there.  I knew that if I hit bad trouble like a gear failure, body failure, GWS...etc. that I could appeal to them for assistance, and that meant a lot to me.  I'm not in to haphazard and whimsical - it's about readiness and keying in on special opportunities.  That opportunity wouldn't have been there if not for the presence of that boat.

I could see that the folks out of the Cove were experiencing a fast bite - plenty of blacks were getting hauled over their rails, and I was treated to that quality of fishing right away when I sent down another chovy near them in about 60 feet of water.  Every anchovy that I sent down was molested quickly, and within 20 minutes I'd landed and released several black rockfish and a small lingcod.  Soon I had a modestly sized blue ling in my lap, and it would come home with me in case the bite shut off.  With my herring now thawed I sent it down and readied myself for what I knew would come before long - lingcod cannot resist herring, and there it is, I've given you another one of my secrets!  8>}

*****Oops!  Exceeded 20,000 characters again!  See page 2.

It wasn't two minutes before my herring got slammed and I had on a hefty ling - you can basically tell how a lingcod feels after this many years in these pursuits.  It didn't feel monstrous, but I wouldn't get to see it right then as it got free of my hooks.  I pulled up and, as is often the case, my herring was still fishable with huge teeth marks and some guts starting to hang out, but intact for the most part.  I sent it back down and again it was very quickly taken by a fish.  This time though it felt like a rockfish had grabbed it.  I felt the weight of whatever had it and decided to let it linger a bit - good choice.  Within 30 seconds my line became much much heavier!  When you're in this situation where you know you have a small to medium fish hooked and then the line becomes super heavy but is coming up with not much fight at all, you are very likely towing in a hitchhiker.  This is precisely what was occurring, and as I got my rig up under my yak I could see through about 10 feet of crystal clear water that a stout ling was holding the 2 to 3 pound black that had taken my herring.  Now it was time for a new challenge.  I hadn't brought along my big salmon net as that would've been just too much on the rolling sideshow that was my yak on wheels that morning.  Instead I had a dinker net and a little gaff that I'd never used.  I reached back for the net because I doubted the effectiveness of the little gaff which had been made for me by an acquaintance several years ago - it had a short handle and a highly curved gaff hook almost like a circle hook, and I thought it would be hard to stick a fish with.  It didn't take long to realize there was no way on Earth that my dinker trout net was going to land that lingcod, so it was time to break in the little gaff.  I pulled the ling toward me as it held on to the black, and I knew that at any time it could just let go and swim away.  Lingcod aren't that smart sometimes though!  I kept manuevering the ling and it occurred to me that I should get a camera out as I didn't have my usual tripod setup aboard, but I had to keep concentrating on the ling.  A few pulls and missed attempts with the gaff and then I had it hooked by the skin of its jaw.  At this point the toothy predator started freaking out, splashing me as it flailed on the gaff.  I wasn't on my usual ultra-stable X-Factor, and the Scrambler XT was rocking hard!  The black rockfish was still on my hooks and now floating nearby, stunned or maybe even dead already from being chomped and ridden to the surface by the bigger fish, so the ling was now only hanging on my gaff by about a half inch of its jaw flesh.  As quickly as I could I set my rod down and reached for the ling's head, grabbing it by the gill plate as fast and carefully as I could.  It was mine, and it wasn't getting released!

I gilled and bled the lingcod, grabbed the still floating black and gave it the same treatment, and went on fishing with a very large smile on my face.  I think the powerboaters had surely seen the whole episode - the thrashing ling and my boat tipping back and forth probably being the highlight of the action, and as they motored off a bit later I got on the radio and told them that if they'd ever like to try the kayaks their boat sure looked like it would make a great mothership.  They smiled at that.  I would fish another 30 minutes or so, hoping for an even bigger lingcod or an oldgrowth model of the other species below me in the rocks.  Just before wrapping up I put a metal jig on and quickly boated a 20" cabezone for pictures and a release.  It was getting well past the minus tide, and I still wanted to dive, so I cut short what could've been a much longer session on that rare water distant from port.  I paddled back toward the beach and my gear, and as I entered the little cove where I'd launched I saw a few ab divers/rockpickers just south of my spot.  One of them was eyeing me in such a way that I figured it could be Tyler, and sure enough it was him.  I was pleased to see that he made it to the spot, and just after beaching my yak he approached me where we shook hands and met face to face for the first time.  He'd gotten tied up waiting for Vinnie who wasn't feeling too well - see what drinking too much beer does to an early morning plan, Vincent!  Just giving you shit, buddy - it was good to see you guys and to meet your buddy Greg too.

After meeting Tyler and hearing that they'd been finding marginal success in the usual spots, I confirmed that he was still up for a dive with me where we'd scout some new territory on the calm water.  Ten minutes later we were ducking and diving around kelpy rocks looking for the awe-inspiring oldgrowth ten inch abalone that captures the imagination of so many who are involved in this sport.  We were discouraged at first to find sand where we thought it would be rock, but we made our way in to better habitat and were soon finding pockets of abs of varying sizes.  The spot wasn't yielding much for numbers, but that's actually one strategy to finding a huge one - where there are few abs and it's usually rough and muddy water it's surely the case that not many people dive there, so you stand the chance of finding something special.  Tyler and I exchanged instances of showing each other nice clusters of abs we'd found, and as we dove I was confirming what I'd learned from FB - Tyler was a skilled diver.  I was also very pleased to be learning more about him as we hung out on our dive - things that FB wasn't telling me.

I've dove with dozens of guys over the years, and I'm not shy about filling them in on my mode.  I have a way about me, and it can seem arrogant - maybe it is.  I know I am skilled at diving, and I have developed my way based on that.  I learned many years ago that I am not after limits - I can get abalone any time I want, in season, and I know the creatures to be long-lived and vulnerable to mistreatment.  I am in awe of their magnificence, and I push an ethic that honors them.  I place a high value on those who have the skillset and have learned the discipline that is respect for Nature.  When a man or woman achieves a high level of function in something like abalone diving or other consumptive outdoor sports, and that person is able to grow through the desire to constantly harvest due to their understanding of what I would describe as a higher focus, it is really a self-respect that has developed.  Yesterday I learned that Tyler Grunert has achieved this quality too.

I knew that we were both enjoying our dive for the flat water, better than usual viz, being in a spot that hasn't seen much traffic, and for being with a partner who obviously holds his own, but there was more going on here.  From tidbits that Tyler shared with me I was coming to know that he had special qualities as a diver and a sportsman.  He'd passed up ten inch abs, and I don't meet many others divers who do that - this was a key finding for me, and it made my dive all the more exciting.  When I dropped into a small cave surrounded by thick kelp and saw a nice nine incher at its entrance I knew that there was a good chance that there was one or more nice oldgrowth up in the hole too, and sure enough when I reached up in there my bare hand glided over an even nicer one.  Tyler dives with a light - something I've never done, but I know it to be an advantage (think:  Big Jim).  I told Tyler of the cave I'd found and asked if he'd shine his light in there.  He made his way over and we descended together.  I positioned my body so I could reach in the cave to the big ab while leaving what space I could for him to slither up next to me and shine his light.  As he illuminated the abalone I got my ten inch guage on it, but, as often happens, the butt of the ab was pushed to the back of the cave, and I couldn't tell if I was getting a good measure on it or not.  I'd just shared with Tyler that one of my secrets to getting tens was to pass up the 9+'s, and it occurred to me that I should just leave it there, but I was also getting tired from the hike, the fishing and now this active dive with another man who really knew the sport.  I told him I'm taking it, and that I only planned on taking one for the day.  I went down on it again, reached in and found a gap between the now sucked down shell and the rock and with my other hand got my iron in that gap and pried.  The ab gave a bit, and I could feel the shell chip - I'm not as anal as I used to be about chipping one, but I'm not 25 any more either!  With the ab slightly giving, I gave another shove and got my iron in far enough to get a strong pry.  I gave it the big pry, felt it pop, extracted my iron from the hole and reached back in, wriggling the ab back and forth to stifle its last purchase on its rocky substrate.  I brought it up and the first thing my dive partner says is, "you got it in one try?!!"  I'm not ashamed to say that I was damn proud to show off that skill, as I knew well that it had not been an easy situation to find such success.  I've spent 30 minutes and more and bent irons on big abs before - this isn't a scene where you swim up to an ab in the open in clear water and pop it before it can suck down.  This is hand to ab combat in a cave!

We measured the ab together, and it turned out to be 9.9"  I'm over being obessed with getting 10's, but sure it would've been nice if it hit that trophy mark.  Regardless, this was a nice ab and had been a fun one to pull.  As Vinny would later say, "the 9.9's taste just as good or better than the 10's!"  We kept diving that spot, and my hope was to find a 10 and just get photos and video of it.  As I'd referred to earlier in this post, finding and leaving ten inch abs holds a power that is unique and gratifying in its own right.

A few minutes later I see Tyler give the thumbs up from 50 feet away - we'd gone separate ways around a rockpile and while I'd found more sand he'd come across the ab of the day.  He was stoked to get a ten, and I hope that my pulling an ab before him helped to loosen him up for pulling one too since we're both the type who have chosen to go home empty handed after finding tens in the past.  What a special kind of support - encouraging each other toward conscientious harvest after having shared our values about how we see the sport.  I have other friends like Brandi Easter, Domenic Belli and Shannon Jay who know what I'm talking about here, and I look forward to all of us maybe being together on this kind of outing some day.

The tide was coming in and we still had to hump our gear back to the trucks, so we wrapped up our dive, took some pictures of our catches in the tidepools, enjoyed the still calm and comfortable beach scene, and headed back to the north where we would re-enter 'civilization' after another incredible outing on the wild Lost Coast.

As we'd been diving I told Tyler how I wanted to find a ten so I could create a 'billboard' with my post, as that is my only source of advertising for my guide service.  He knew what I was talking about, and I accepted the fact that I had exposed my inner workings and what may be a weakness to my new friend.  I admit that I have a focus on trying to show an awesome adventure in my posts, and special harvests surely add to their allure.  I said to Tyler as we floated above the rocks, "I might have to give up guiding because it's driving me to feel the need to achieve special harvests for my reports."  He acknowledged what I'd said and knew precisely what I was saying, and that connection was something I value very much.  If there's anything I do not want to be it's misunderstood.  I'm proud of who I am and what I do, and, don't worry, I don't plan to change my way any time soon, but I do have a desire to find a place for myself where I can continue to push my way on others, through reports and in person, without feeling the need to pull the oldgrowth ab or kill the fatty mama lingcod.  In my guiding I wish to teach people all the skills and knowledge that goes in to maximizing opportunities, and just as importantly, I want to instill a vision of mastery over the sport combined with the self-respect that one gains from growing beyond the harvest focus.

You've got it down, Tyler, and I'd be glad to share time with you on or in the water any day.  Thanks for helping me find the inspiration for this report, because it's never just about the big fish or the oldgrowth ab.

 

Great report Eric! I thought about hitting the Cape on sunday, wish I had now.

Another great report Eric.  See you at Albion on Saturday.

Love reading your experiences Eric.  Not only are you eloquent, but your writings are from the heart.

I love the report Eric. Great adventures as always. I really dig the cab in the crouch photo. I wouldn't put a ling or halibut in the same position.  Thanks for sharing brotha

I'm not in to haphazard and whimsical - it's about readiness and keying in on special opportunities. 

Dude, what's wrong with being whimsical?!   

Now my plan was changing in my mind.  That's part of my M.O. - be ready to adjust the itinerary based on factors which can either enhance or hinder what had been scheduled - this is one way to maximize an opportunity, and I see it as crucial to much of the success that I've enjoyed over the years in my outdoors pursuits.

See! You can be whimsical too; just don't be capricious. 

Killer report Eric! Forgive me for skimming the report and going right for the fish porn. What an epic day, I'm definitely gonna read the full report when I have time. Way to go

Eric - You're so lucky fishing virgin waters.  Someday I'd like to have the same experience. 

That's quite a billboard!

the rolling sideshow that was my yak...

Amen, deserved description in the pursuit and well worth it. Thanks for sharing the story, experience and perspective, AK, I hear ya.

Fantastic report Eric.  You write the most introspective reports on NCKA, and you have a way with words that puts the reader into your shoes and looking through your eyes.  It takes talent to achieve such a feat!  As soon as I read "Punta Gorda" in the first paragraph, I was glued to the screen.  I've heard the stories of that place.  Would love to pick your brain about it more, perhaps over a beer  .

In my guiding I wish to teach people all the skills and knowledge that goes in to maximizing opportunities, and just as importantly, I want to instill a vision of mastery over the sport combined with the self-respect that one gains from growing beyond the harvest focus.

Love the last part of this quote.  I'm still a harvester on the salt since I hardly get out there anymore, but I can relate on the freshwater scene: I get such a kick out of releasing a phatty 24+ inch trout in front of other anglers and watching their jaws drop as the fish swims away.  Sometimes they even get mad and ask me why I released such a big fish, why I didn't offer it to them instead.  I just smile and say "Cuz I wanna catch him when he's even bigger." 

Wow.  Great report and open view into LoletaEric

I just smile and say "Cuz I wanna catch him when he's even bigger." 

That's great, Clayman, right on!