Shelter Cove - 8/25/21

Wednesday with Erik and Wendell.

I put both of these guys off at least once when winds were up on their booked dates.  They're both local, so I combined them into a group day, and we ended up with good fortune for sure.  It was deja vu for the season with some early cohos gently released, and then Erik hooked into a powerhouse.  I cleared my gear and got up on him, and it was apparent that he was fighting a substantial fish.  It wasn't budging for him - wouldn't come closer and didn't shake its head.  The fish started towing my guy toward the lighthouse point, and I paddled along as an escort.  When the fish stopped I tried to coach Erik on lifting it and reeling down on it, but this king wasn't having it.  It would come to the surface about 50 to 70 feet from us, and when I'd paddle toward it it would descend or just pull further to the southwest.  I'd seen right away that it was a very large salmon, and at one point Erik said, "it looks super fat", and I'm like "DON'T TALK ABOUT IT!"

About half an hour later we were past the point in more than 40 feet of water, and this bruiser didn't seem to be tiring.  I adopted a new strategy where I'd stay out in front of the fight, and if the fish came up I'd paddle toward it - I hoped it would flop over on its side due to fatigue, but it kept descending and slowly pulling.

Wendell, in the meantime had continued to troll around us at a safe distance, and at one point he had a fish on - we lost him in the fog as I had to stay with Erik and the sack of concrete that he was attached to.

Our time finally came.  Erik was getting tired, but I had him pull on the fish again, and once more it came up to the surface.  I paddled toward it expecting it to just descend and pull again, but this time it truly was tired.  I've never netted a fish so far from the boat that's fighting it.  I've also not lost one at the net all season (knock on wood), so I was a bit nervous to take a stab at the slab right out in the open.  I put the net near it - showed it to the fish - and expected another reaction from this chromey suitcase of muscle, but it was pretty still.  I got in the right position and scooped, and we had it.  A fish that actually made my giant net look normal sized!

We celebrated, and I put a priority on bleeding the fish and getting it secured in my tank well with wet burlap covering it completely.  Sealions have been known to swipe a salmon right off of a kayak if they see an opportunity - not to mention the possibility that a lion or even a shark could come along and attack it in my net.  I must've had some good adrenalin going to get a near forty pounder behind me in the well.  The day would be all cream from here on out.  A lifetime fish will do that.

With the fish secured we paddled at a good pace back to the inside to find Wendell - he'd landed his fish - a rockfish!  The three of us kept fishing, more coho were caught and treated well, and then Wendell was on his own Chinook.  He played it nicely - it didn't do anything comparable to Erik's toad - and we soon had his 20 pounder in the net.  Now the day was even creamier.

Picked up a shaker halibut (first in a couple of weeks), more coho and then I got my turn - 18 pounder bagged.  The three of us were stoked to have each gotten a fish, and having Frankenstein under my burlap pushed me to suggest that we go in to process the three kings and get them on ice, and then we could launch again to look for some rockfish and lingcod.

Drove up the hill to wash the scales off the fish, and the official weigh in at the boat launch had Erik's monster at 38.5 pounds, but the fat body on that thing was leaning against their shed - it was a bit heavier.  My own scale had it near 39.  No need to split hairs - it was a beast.

I sliced and diced and we got all the meat put away - along with a nice visit with some friends from the bay area, Alastair and Andrew, and we took a minute to put away some sandwiches before launching again.  As we pushed off from the trucks, I saw wild marks on my sonar right in the harbor.  I told the guys not to put their gear down, but I had to check this out.  I lowered my bait and trolled through the marks, and - boom - I caught a coho inside the breakwater right where we launch when the tide's low!

We made our way to a favorite rockfish zone, loaded up on blacks and missed a couple of lingcod, and before long the day was nearly done.  By mid afternoon we were on shore, loaded up and putting away a few pounds apiece of rockfish fillets for the guys.  Smiles were still powered by the morning's special catch, and, along with the fact that we'd each caught a keeper salmon, the big fish definitely had the overall effect of making the day quite amazing.

One cold beer apiece at the Tailgate Fillet Station, a toast to an awesome trip, completion of the business deal, and soon my guys were on the road for home.  I lingered, took a swim as I often do after working hard since 330AM, looked out toward the Bell Buoy with appreciation for this wonderful vocational pastime that I've carved out for myself, and I was soon rolling for home too. 
It's hard to call this trip or the giant salmon the "culmination" of an amazing summer - it's all been off the hook, and I'm committed to remaining ready and doing what I can to make dreams into reality for a few more guests before the seasons change.  I've gotta keep my eyes on the prize here and meter the passion along with the energy that's needed to administer it. 

It should come as no surprise to those who read these reports or who interact with me on the water or on the beach that my emotions can become very raw and exposed from this work.  My intention is to be my best self, but the extreme early rising, long hours, diligent focus and dedication to proficiency can take away some of my ability to be sweet and patient.  Thank you for understanding that I am running a marathon here.  I'm distinctly aware of and focused on my overarching goals to display virtue, and at the same time I'm allowing myself to run so hard that the roughness is inevitable.  When I get to the end of this gig - whether it be this incredible season or my guide career as a whole - I want to retain the knowledge and satisfaction of having put everything I am into this.

Thank you for the love.

...

Eric-
That’s awesome! I eagerly await the day that I will be able to come play in slug city once again.
Aloha,

Isao

Wow. Congrats on the monster. Another great adventure.

Nice meeting you, Eric! You put your folks on some good fish! Next time we'll follow you 
I'll also bring you some herring garum at some point. It's the final piece of the zero-waste puzzle.
Good luck out there tomorrow.

Thanks for reminding us to stop and smell the roses
Especially those we’ve planted ourselves

Thanks again for another great report and pictures Eric.   

Beautiful catch!

Now you’ve got me thinking of the cove for the upcoming birthday weekend…

The best part of reading one of Eric's reports is the building of anticipation as he writes out these incredible stories like a maestro building up to the crescendo of an incredible tale of fishing success.  Reading each word carefully, and picturing the moment from his point of view, but never scrolling down to see the pictures until every word has been digested and then I'm rewarded with the pictures at the very end.  Man Eric, your a hell of an awesome fisherman, and your moments captured in your reports are truly something.  I do think you need to write that book, and put your history and accomplishments out there to be immortalized for all to read about this quaint little drinking town with a fishing obsession.   


I'll take a signed copy please