If not more! Tis the season to be Merry.
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With no further ado there, folks. I thought it wise to go ahead and slap a chapter on another successful season. While that chapter I speak of is still being written, of course. With adventure after adventure going down; and the far greater challenge of finding time to type! I suppose no time is better than the present to do so. A season that I hope brought great joy to each and everyone of you. A year that will be well engraved in all our minds. Whatever reason that may be? Well, that's your story to tell. For some, it's that first drag ripping run of their long awaited cherry-popping kayak,Yellowtail.
Make note of the filthy, thieving Sea Lion, tattoo here. A whack between the eyes with a ten foot jig-stick did the trick.
Notice the tidal wave about to destroy Mt. Soledad in the background -- behind the stoked out of his mind angler.
And, easily, my best dressed client of the season. If this ensemble doesn't just scream, HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Appropriately being added to Fish Porn Friday tonight. Well, I don't know what does.
Probably enough cherry popping for now -- I really don't want to bore 'ya with all the rest. So lets move on shall we. Besides, I'm sure we'd all agree that the only thing better than that first, Yellowtail, is what class? Exactly. The next Yellowtail.
So, in that very theme, Chris I'll take this opportunity to apply the pressure publicly. You're next! Or your next-fish is next; whatever, you know what I mean. If it's the last thing I do, you Sr., are going to catch big Winter Yellowtail, too.
And while Yellowtail haunt the soul of many Southern California anglers. Whether they're actually landed or lost at the last second. Year round for that matter. For others it's that seventy pound, White Sea Bass, coming out of the mirk and into the cross hairs. When, for once, you're actually ready and holding the right gun! As those precious twinkling lights from above align.
Just don't ask me about the two fish I passed on, immediately prior, to pulling the trigger on this fish. Apparently my visual scale was way off on this day! While a seventy pound ghost is no slouch -- in anyone's book. We'll leave it at this. It's safe to say the other two might haunt me for quite a while. And from an optimist point of view? Have me just that much more focused on future hunts from below.
Whatever the case regarding one season to the next. Here's hoping this one was a blur for you as well. What one angler considers, trash, another may treasure. Some guys could absolutely care less about say, Spotted Bay Bass. While others rank them with the, sacred-Cow. So the value of comparison between one angler's season to the other? Is, well, only perceived through the eye of the beholder -- and naturally so. For most the biggest challenge of all, mind you. Is even having the wherewithal to dare live in the present. And taking those chances in the first place. For without that one little step we'll always be on the outside, doing what's perfectly natural as well. Looking in.
Sometimes it's as simple as packing and setting the alarm. That one day you might have took off of work just for an hour on the Bay. Or, maybe driving the extra mile offshore (when something in your gut just screamed at you to do so). We've all been there a time or two. And it's these tiny choice that make all the difference in the world.
Perhaps heading full steam. While for some reason you just can't catch up to the surrounding wild life. To what's seemingly, the only kelp paddy, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Dare I call it a race, as it often seems, we're in a race to go nowhere. And lets not forget (as most of you here) just kayak fishing to get your weekend warrior kicks! It really makes no difference in the grand scheme of things. To anyone else anyway...
You could be conquering the fear of taking that first dip into the deep-end. Where it doesn't take a genius to quickly realize you're not at the top of the food-chain anymore. No matter what size gun you're holding! This Novella after all is for, you. Other like minded individuals who might appreciate a good little fish story from time to time. A glimpse into what some of us would soon forget. If it wasn't for that little contraption. One, that all of us carry in our pocket these days. Perhaps weighing down that stocking we just opened up for Christmas. You guessed it: the camera.
Speaking of, Christmas, I for one know there's still a kid inside each and everyone of us. It's all about tapping into that precious energy from time to time. Like, Bert, here as an example. Now this guy gets it! Crowd or no crowd; not the least bit bothered by unforeseen challenges.
And most definitely living in the present --- like a kid in a candy store (when this photo was taken).
Some days are better than others when it comes to fishing with clients. Where the trials and tribulations of putting those puzzle pieces together (i.e. work) are replaced by fun. The pressure's off; so to speak. Then and only then. Do I get to occasionally dabble in the day's festivities.
I still think something like, Flo Rida's: "it's going down for real". Would have took this up a notch. In fact I know it would have. Bert, however, like many of you has a career, though. And a family! So spending all day, eiditing a fish killing adventure, complete with a bunch of released Yellowtail -- slapped to some gangsta' rap? Just isn't something he's got time for right now.
Which I perfectly understand. So apparently, instrumental rap it is:
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=bFyo5oi6E7M
Upon landing on this day. Bert was just beaming with stoke. Maybe even more so than usual -- if that's even possible. I turned around to snap a picture of him while I was loading the truck. Just as the sun was setting in the background. And a synapse of time before I screamed aloud: "what in the hell are you doing dancing around in the surf"?!?!
Only then did I realize it was some other kid. Who just so happened to be stoked out of his mind, too. If it wasn't for the two hundred pounds of stacked muscle seperating the two -- practically Siamese twins.
I'll also have you know that it doesn't take over a hundred pounds of, drag-ripping-fish, on deck? To get this guy stoked about a day on the water. Case in point. Not that I want anyone trying to pry my well guarded tutelage, and blood oath secrecy from his cold dead hands. Which covers the vast span of, well, if I'm being completely honest? About damn near anything from rigging to reading the sonar. Including even, yes, any one of the 50,000 rock-piles up and down the twists and turns of, La Jolla, proper.
I dare you to go rock fishing with this guy. And I, double-dog-dare-you, to put up a hefty wager for the jack pot fish! Consider yourself warned.
Something we can all celebrate together in our own little way, though. Is just the experience of being on the water itself, right? That goes for the migrating, Grey Whales of today, and the jumping Dorado of a few months back. There's just something special about the Big-Blue if you asked me. For whatever reason some are just more drawn to it than others. Allowing us as divers to seemingly float, weightless, hardly bothered by the gravity of our daily lives. Like my friend, Dylan, here with one of his first Dorado of the season (notably shot a few miles off La Jolla).
Just one of many magical, warm blue water days, in local waters. Take a look at the reflection on the surface here. I can't exactly take much pride in the photo; nor the beauty of the image. I mean, after all, I just pushed a button for crying out loud. It's crazy to think without this image, though, I never would have noticed the mirror like surface. Or the kaleidoscope of colors in my face right above. Just another subtle reminder to take photos in the first place my friends.
Here's the same stoked guy just two seconds later. Holding the same fish.
Just without that ridiculous mirror finish from above. So burn, burn away, as this is the digital age!
What made this particular trip pretty cool? Beyond the fact that it was definitely in kayak range of my daily office, mind you. Was for one getting to swim with and hunt the, eighty swarming Dorado (with Blacks Beach in the background no less). One of my fish pictured here.
And probably the school of fifty pound class, Yellowfin Tuna, that would occasionally come up from the depths. Right about this time the true gravity of our season came into perspective. Forget the daily hammering of Yellowtail with clients, for four-months-straight. The better grade, Tuna, in local waters really raised my brow. And basically made this little weekly update an ambitious proposition to say the least. Something about striking while the iron is hot! Quickly placing this thread on the distant burner. I'll throw up some, local Tuna, photos at another time. And speaking of? If you happen to have some photos of your own. Be it local Tuna -- or Wahoo -- I'd love to see 'em!
Anyway, I suppose that's enough to chew on for now.
May your next fishing season put this one to shame. In closing, whether Christmas came early for you. Right on time. Or, God willing, better late than never?
Here's wishing everyone those presents under the tree -- that once upon a time made it so hard to sleep.