[Whizz Bang]

I am consumed by thoughts of Yellowtail and White Sea Bass. There are almost no lengths to which I will not go for these fish. Almost. I have tried a lot of techniques and toyed with a lot of different gimmicks in search of these fish. I even went through a phase where I believed camouflage to be necessary. I tried painting the bottom of my kayak like a kelp paddy with schooling bait fish on it and glued a bunch of cotton balls to my waders in an attempt to pass myself off as a bit of fog. Another time, I painted my kayak yellow, glued cardboard “turbo fins” to the bottom, and donned green waders, a collared shirt, black hat and white face paint…..the fish still did not bite. Nothing seemed to work. I eventually broke down and enlisted the help of the village Shaman. Yes, I have a Shaman, a witch doctor, a Bokor. He lives in a mud hut just down the street from me and his name is Earl. Earl is really a great guy, if you can get past the whole loincloth, bone in the nose, shrunken head for a necklace thing. Earl provided me with a special ritual, a small pot of honey and a garland of garlic were required among other things. That was months ago, and the Yellowtail have been coming. But the White Sea Bass did not. So, a couple of weeks ago I went back to Earl.

I should probably explain. You do not just walk up and knock on a Bokor’s front door. You would be risking a very real chance of disrupting some sensitive ritual and drawing the wrath of a man who can command the spirits of the ether….and shrink your head. What you actually have to do is wade into the bramble thicket he calls a yard with an offering, and you wait, quietly. If Earl comes out and takes your offering, it is permitted to follow him inside as this means that he has agreed to help you. This can take some time….sometimes a lot of time. I once saw an old man who was out there for about a day and a half before Earl summoned him. On the day I went to see him I got lucky, Earl was outside decorating his house for Christmas, although the holiday cheer brought about by garlands of animal bones is debatable. Earl seemed genuinely pleased when he saw the fruitcake I was holding and beckoned me in.

I squatted on my haunches in front of a small fire in the center of the room and took in my surroundings. The dirt floor of the hut was swept as smooth as concrete and I vaguely wondered if my witch doctor had a touch of OCD. The walls were decorated with primitive drawings and strange symbols which seemed to move and stretch as the flames danced in front of me. The effect was disorienting. Across the fire from me Earl also squatted, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth staring into the embers. After, what I felt was an uncomfortable silence I started to talk. I explained to Earl that although Yellowtail was special, there was indeed a more elusive fish that haunted the La Jolla area, the White Seabass. Its flesh was supposed to be amazing and I badly wanted one, my first, actually. As I explained all this, Earl simply stared at me uncomprehending, the bone in his nose occasionally twitching. I grabbed a stick and proceeded to go over it again, this time drawing it in the dirt. Earl’s eyes widened and he began to hop back and forth his loincloth flapping in a rather disturbing manner, excitement and agitation growing with his comprehension. Earl explained through a series of tongue clicks, broken English, pantomime, and baby gibberish, that he was indeed aware of such a fish and that he believed he could call upon the spirit of this fish to submit to my will. There would be a price to pay, however, Earl wanted a goat for such a fish, a live goat. I should probably tell you that while Earl had been successful in putting me on some smaller grade of Yellowtail over the course of the summer, he had also charged me 3 chickens for his services. I found the chickens at a feed store in Ramona, they were supposed to be some decent egg layers but I don’t know if they ever had the chance, there was certainly no sign of them now, and you don’t ask a whole lot of questions with someone who deals in livestock.

I left that night with much unanswered, where would I find a goat, how much would a goat cost, am I breaking any laws, what are the neighbors gonna think, etc. I could just imagine lying to some little old lady, telling her that her Winston the Third was going to be the star attraction in a very special petting zoo I was putting together. That he was going to be loved and adored, and most assuredly NOT passed off to a magic wielding pygmy with sinister plans just so I could catch some fish.

I took awhile to make my decision, mulling it over and even going so far as to peruse the livestock section of craigslist over my morning coffee. In the end, I just couldn’t do it. Which is just as well since shortly afterwards my wife got me a guided trip with Josh Pruitt for Christmas. This, incidentally, is the greatest gift I have ever received.

When I contacted Josh, I made it clear that this was about helping me become a better fisherman, breaking old habits, establishing new ones, and perhaps just the very beginning of an understanding of the amazing fishery we have, for now, in La Jolla. Catching a fish came a distant second to the desire to learn. As always, Josh delivered. He already knew much of what I was doing wrong, he had had ample opportunity to observe my poor technique on the water over the summer. For those of you who are on the fence or are just getting into the sport and wish to shorten the steep learning curve, the time and money spent on hiring Josh will pay dividends for the rest of your life…. Just do it, or perhaps buy a goat.


Incidentally, this is the first fish taken out of LJ for 2010 taken New Years Day.....early. Happy New Year everyone.