Misery loves company, so good luck sleeping
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I think the secrets out, the Croakers have moved into the kelp along the coast. On this particular day a Sardine kept beaching himself along the outside edge of the kelp as if he was scared of the water below...it looked like a pretty good place to fish. Even though I'm lazy and only fish the local kelp, my intel from Santa Barbara down to Imperial beach have all been telling me the same story. I don't know if there was an extra healthy squid population in the depths all winter, but the population of huge females is strong to say the least. I've shared a few of my trophies this spring, but a number of trees have fallen without someone to hear them. Much like fishing during the squid bites, I feel obligated to fish when a certain grade is available. You will never have a better shot of catching a fifty pound Yellowtail than during those times when they're stuffing themselves and have their guard down. These low light conditions at the sea floor with their favorite food is the time the majority of these trophies are caught. The battlefield of boats is something I would avoid years ago, even though I knew what kind of fishing was going on. The truth of the matter is I would rather fish all day to find that one trophy just before sunset, without a boat in sight. But, for years all I could think of was that fifty pound Yellowtail I had on the end of my line fishing twenty pound flourocarbon. I had her just out of gaff range three times, but each time the Yellowtail of my dreams laughed at me moving back to a safe distance cruising the bottom in 30' of water. I've relived this nightmare for years and think of it every time I drop down to the invisible stuff. I suppose my recent heartbreaks will serve as great therapy, since that sight of watching my prize shake the hook at gaff years ago is starting to fade. I have the fresh taste of tears to savor from a couple White Seabass that could have been twenty pounds over my personal best. I wish I never saw them, but I did. Consequently having to go get a glass of water at three in the morning, waking up with sweat on my brow, with that damn visual of a straightened out hook. The current WCW number one (Jasmin), was on hand to help as I took off my waders and swam down without a mask trying to retrieve one of these fish. Even though I have a great breathhold, topping out around three minutes. Swimming down in your underwear without a mask in five feet of visability didn't help my cause. After a few attempts I was able to pop a number of stringers and follow my spectra down to my fish. Only to feel her last shakes of freedom and see a silver flash five feet in front of me, only to swim back up with my hook in hand. I wouldn't have done this for any White Seabass over fifty, but this fish was more than worthy. The good news is if she's not in the arms of an expert diver now, she's still out there.
Here's my partner in crime for the day, the best website guy I know. Consequently the only other kayaker out this day. Even though my fish was a little over fifty three inches, his fish was ridiculous. Don has a 1' stainless gaff which I'm sure works great for tired Yellowtail yakside, but not when they're kelped heavily 8' down. I could see this beast at color and simply made sure he didn't pull too hard while I did everything I could do to help out. I ended up getting a little wet with my arm burried up to my shoulder with a 4.5' gaff to get his fish of a lifetime. Being an only child I had quick thoughts of "that's my fish", but gladly shared a celebratory cold one with Don on the happy pedal back.
I love my job!