Shelter Cove - 5/27/22

Right at this time of year Domenic and I make an extra effort to fish together - it being both of our birthdays, after all.  In the 13.5 years that we've been friends, we've enjoyed a long list of amazing days doing everything from abalone diving to clamming to steelheading to midnight crabbing to remote fishing from the rocks, but the pinnacle of our adventure time together has to be the ocean kayak salmon hunt.  In years of trips out of both Shelter Cove and Humboldt Bay, we've worked as a team and found great success on many occasions. 

Friday, May 27th started out promising with the nicest forecast of the season so far coming through with a flat ocean and no wind as we met in the dark and prepped our gear at the ramp.  We got on the ocean just as a long list of powerboaters were being tractor-launched, two by two and dispersing across the water.  A few boats took advantage of the conditions and headed north to Punta Gorda, and Jarred's charter joined a few others in a codding focus to the south, but the vast majority of the fleet spread out near the Cove to look for the king salmon that have been on a consistent bite within a mile of either of the buoys.

Along with a few of the early powerboaters, we worked thick bait near the harbor to start off, but the 48 degree water may have had our target fish snoozing - no one reported any action.  The fish bite when they want to - when a combination of factors tells them to; exceptions to this natural rule may best be discovered only through persistence of pursuit and diligence in presentation.  What I've just described IS fishing, and when the bite's easy, the entire endeavor may not even be as rewarding as you want it to be.

Soon we'd moved on toward the Bell, over to the point, up through B&B...  We covered all the water that we could as the fleet did the same, and by just before high tide there hadn't been more than one or two fish reported.  The boaters' numbers grew as the morning pushed on, and the horizon was dotted with sub-groups of the greater fleet.  I can remember days off of HBO in my dad's boats, where we'd count around 100 or more boats on the horizon around us - all looking for the same thrill.  This day, we were all in waiting.

Ka-Boom!  Domenic had a strike that felt like the right kind.  Paddling 20 yards to his left, I took a 90 degree turn toward him as he re-baited and then veered right behind his position.  "Nice marks!"  I announced, seeing large slashes high in the water column on my fishfinder screen.  Then I'm on!  A solid pumper, I resisted the potential curse of announcing that it felt like a 10 pounder, proceeded to play it for the typical 3 to 4 minutes, and then it was tired enough to slide into my waiting net. 

In the time that I'd played my fish, Domenic stayed up-current - it was ripping pretty good to the NW.  I got my fish bled and put away, fixed my leader up, re-baited and headed toward my man.  I was ready to sheepishly apologize for instantly jumping his strike zone after he got that bite!  Wouldn't have to though - I saw from a couple hundred feet away that he was cleaning his net out as I approached.  We'd both bagged 10 pounders to get on the board.  The smiles were as real as it gets, and they would persist for the entire day.

We worked the area for the next hour and missed a few more strikes from those high slashes.  Catches were starting to come in on the VHF, but nothing was breaking open enough to make the fleet respond.  As Dom and I trolled together we reflected on how we'd almost doubled a bit ago - hooking and landing our fish just minutes apart.  In all of our trips, we've never doubled and landed both - we've rarely hooked up at the same time.  The odds of it happening are long, but we've put in lots of hours over lots of years - it seemed due.

Boom.  Domenic was on, and I turned hard to get closer to him so I could get a photo of him in the fight.  I'm heading right at him watching his rod pump, thinking I will clear my line in a second so I don't jeopardize his chances with gear in the water near a hot fish, and, as I thought, "maybe our double comes right now"...  You know how this goes - Yeehaw!  I'm on!! 

Now we're only about 80 feet apart, and both fighting hot fish that are running.  Once we could see that our fish were going different directions and not about to cross, we were able to hang close and see and feel the fight of our teammate going on right next to us.  This was one of the most outstanding moments I've ever experienced on the water!

I got my fish into the net first, cleared my line and turned to one-handed paddle toward Dom as I held my net in place with my limit fish in there, still un-bled.  Watched as Dom soon had his fish up and to the net, and got photos as he closed the deal.  We'd bagged a double, limited early on a scratchy bite, enjoyed a great forecast after being alone in the dark at the ramp, and brought to fruition our plan of working together to enjoy this pastime that seems to permeate the spirit like not much else can.

I can't really describe it any better in this many words, and letting it flow out of me in front of this keyboard feels as natural as hooking an anchovy and fighting a Chinook.

Thank you, Domenic, for being such a great friend and for joining me in pursuit of adventure and fulfillment.  Happy birthday, brother!

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So badass!  Love your stories, Eric!  That is what its all about!