Trophy fishing...

[THE DARKHORSE]

Unfortuneltly the cure for ghost fever isn't universal and every angler requires a different syrum, but I thought I'd share the cure for mine in all her glory. A fish that hit like a Sealion, fought like a forty pound Yellowtail, and a fish I'll never forget!

The question of what makes up a trophy is hard to answer, incredible fight, huge head, giant tail, mabybe a new personal best...since fishing is an individual sport, it's personal. Everyone has a different opinion of what makes up a trophy and in fact there's no right answer if you asked me. For all the anglers who've pursued White Seabass in particular without success, that first fish over 28" is a keeper, photo worthy, and they're equally stoked as I would be seeing a sixty pounder below. For years people would ask me "why in the hell would you let that forty pound White Seabass go"? The answer is pretty simple, after you catch a few in the fifty pound plus range the thirty pound models just don't look the same, completely different...or Trout as I like to refer to them. These fish in the thirty pound class remind me of the larger Speckled Trout I caught as a kid and I can't imagine keeping one today, but that's just my opinion. I know the conservation argument of a fifty pound fish has more eggs than a thirty pound fish, and with a larger stomach it's a little hard to argue. My personal opinion, my belief, and only that, on this subject is that "my choice" of the size fish I harvest has had that opportunity to spawn all those extra years to become that mature trophy. In my opinion, more eggs and in time more giant Croakers roaming the California Coast would be around if others adopted the same harvest practices. The facts are the facts, these larger/smarter fish are harder to catch and they defend themselves quite well. The young and dumbs (White Seabass under forty pounds) as I like to call them remind me of the ever present Thresher Sharks. They often break the notorious lock-jaw rules of the elusive creatures they will become...trophies. I would never force my opinion on a stoked angler with a large Trout, quite the opposite, I thrive on that stoke! More often than not each angler has their own personal best hurdle which sets that trophy bar a little higher each time. In a perfect world you would start off small and gradually work your way up over the years, enjoying each additional pound as you climb that personal ladder of success. But for some that barrier is put out of reach for the rest of their lives on one of their first outings. The word curse is probably a little strong, but the curse of the early giant is what I like to call it. I've seen it time and again when an angler catches that ridiculous fish of a lifetime without putting in the work, well, not near the amount of time you'd expect to catch one of these treasured trophies. I refer to this as a curse due to the typical downward spiral of success that typically follows the years to come. Those fifty pound Yellowtail, forty pound Halibut, and sixty pound White Seabass are hard to catch. Not only do these larger fish put up an incredible fight, but the fact of the matter is they don't get huge by accident, certainly not by being dumb. They're smart, know every piece of structure in the surrounding area and have probably escaped the gaff many times along the way. Their site at color alone probably caused panic on a numbrer of occasons, causing the angler to make a mistake. Maybe tightening the drag to get those last few wraps on the spool, or in the case of when the Yellowtail of my dreams came to color years ago, the opposite.

After catching more than I would ever post on the internet this season, I've been keeping less than one White Seabass a week. Funny how the law allows one a day and people will talk crap about keeping one White Seabass a week, hmmm. I find it highly unlikely any of these same people will be fighting for our rights to continue protecting our precious fishing grounds. I've said it many times and I'll say it again, the anglers are the only ones who really care about this fishery and the future of our coastline. Together we protect and serve, extending the arm of our under-staffed Department of Fish and Game. My question for the new members who act as if they belong to the kayak community and fishing community as a whole. : If keeping one White Seabass a week (1/7 of the limit) is too much, how many do you think we should be able to harvest? Unfortunetly, I think I know the answer to that question and the number doesn't change for the entire year or the rest of our lives.


Today was my first trip after finding the ghost fever cure a couple of days ago. I didn't realize how much I've missed searching open water...refreshing! All that empty space, ground to cover, without so much as a mark on the sonar for extended periods of time. If finding fish in open water wasn't a challenge I doubt it would be nearly as fun as it is. The excitement of watching boats constantly run over each others trolling lines, entertainment at it's finest. You would think it's obvious one's trolling lines would be behind them, but apparently not. The funniest part on this mid-week day is that there were just a few boats out with the typical cattle-boat fleet of two. The few boats did their best to make it seem like a Saturday, constantly running over each other and fishing the chum-lime of the sporties, funny stuff! I couldn't help but think of how many more fish those gas guzzler's would catch if they just stopped to fish a while, but then again that's just more for me...keep runnin' boys!


Just like I assumed, the Yellowtail welcomed me back with open arms and the fish were just where I left them. As usual the weather man was full of crap (the forecast called for heavy cloud cover and strong winds), turned out to be a beautiful day on the water. This day was a celebration of sorts, a gas station of fuel for me to drive in traffic and speak up for our rights, to do everything I can to protect this incredible place from the over-funded bias jury we face.



This 30-80 lb rated rod barely bends under the tail thumps of the right kind, but it was obvious what was on the other end. I like the track of the line in the water as this fish runs from left to right in the photo.



A beautiful specimen, the epitomy of health, with the physique that resembled a Yellowfin Tuna more than a Jack. As usual, this Yellowtail barely moved a muscle as I gently slid her over my legs, removed the hook, and a quick photo was taken. I whispered in her ear to never chase colorful-irons and stay away from me when she's older. An awesome fight that was rewarded with a high-dive from the kayak and a new lease on life...I hope she takes my advice .